Lily lowered the book onto her lap and closed the leather cover with a soft thud. She lifted her gaze, a bright smile tugging at her lips as she took in the faces around her. The boys leaned forward on the edge of their seats, eyes alight, every one of them charged with barely contained excitement. Their bodies near trembled from the storm of emotions stirred by the story's conclusion.
James, Sirius, and Remus exchanged quick, knowing looks. Peter looked about ready to burst, and though Severus tried to keep his usual calm, even he couldn't disguise the faint grin curling at the corner of his mouth.
"That was… epic!" Peter blurted, springing half out off the floor with arms flung high. "The battle, the fight, the bloody climax—absolutely amazing!"
"You said it, mate," Sirius chimed in, dragging a hand through his hair and letting out a breath. "Merlin's beard, where does one even begin?"
"Feels like something out of a fantasy novel," Remus muttered, shaking his head with a faint smile. "Half of me still thinks it's all a load of bollocks, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't riveting."
"Real or not, Moony, it had me hooked from start to finish," James said. "That fight with Salazar and Hartshorne, bloody git got exactly what he deserved."
"I'd agree," Severus cut in, arms crossed. "What struck me most wasn't the fight itself, but that Salazar found something to fight for. Something worth living for. The passion, the courage…" His eyes flickered. "It makes you wonder what became of him in the end."
"I know," Myrtle said dreamily, hovering near Lily. "It is rather sad when you think about it. But for now, I adore this version of Salazar. Him, and Helga too." Her grin widened. "I'm so glad she found herself again, and the way she absolutely thrashed that brute, oh, it was glorious!"
Lily's smile slowly faltered, her gaze drifting to the floor. Myrtle noticed immediately, her ghostly brow furrowing. "Something the matter, Lily?"
"It's just… Asriel. And Isha." Her voice was quiet, but it carried enough to drain the warmth from the room.
The change was immediate. Every smile faded, the air thick with the weight of her words.
"Bloody hell," Sirius muttered, folding his arms as if to shield himself from the thought. "Now I'm properly depressed."
Severus exhaled, steady but pained. "As grim as it is, they knew their fate the moment they swore themselves to Nemesis. They gave their souls for that power, and in the end, they achieved what they wanted. Burgess foiled, their loved ones avenged."
"Doesn't make it any less tragic," Remus said as he shrugged. "The world's cruel. Dark. Full of people who hurt others without hesitation or remorse, because no one ever holds them to account. Not truly."
James leaned back, shaking his head. "Merlin's beard, the more we read, the more it feels like a mirror. Our world's just as bloody bleak."
Severus inclined his head. "And then you have Lamar Burgess. A man so vile he could commit atrocity after atrocity and still convince himself he's the victim. I'd call him a narcissistic bastard, but that would be an insult to narcissists."
"I don't get it," Sirius said after a moment. "The man had everything. Family, reputation, strength, a seat of power in the Tower, and still it wasn't enough. He clung to grudges as though they were his lifeblood. It's pathetic, really. I'll never understand it."
"People like that rarely start with everything," Lily said softly, lifting her eyes at last. "They begin powerless, and when power finally comes, it consumes them. They mistake it for salvation, when in truth it only feeds their bitterness." Her words steadied. "Remember what was written: some don't seek to better the world. They only want it to suffer as they once did."
"Doesn't begin to justify everything he did," James said, his gaze narrowing. "As far as I'm concerned, he and anyone who so much as drank from his cup got exactly what they deserved, and I hope the rest meet the same end."
"Well, grim subjects aside," Peter cut in, eager to change the mood, "his weapon was wicked. Ashford's too. And Workner's—bloody hell, I wish I could've seen them with my own eyes."
"Alright, but is no one going to mention Headmaster Blaise?" Remus said, drawing every gaze to him. "The Flame of the West? That revelation about his identity? That he used to be part of the Table?" He scratched his head. "Bugger me, that's a lot to swallow."
"I concur," Severus murmured, his eyes narrowing. "There's clearly much the Headmaster isn't telling us. He keeps his cards very close to his chest."
"Heh," Myrtle chuckled. "Makes you wonder if Dumbledore's hiding secrets on that scale as well. Frankly, I wouldn't be shocked."
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "A wise man once said humans are nothing more than a miserable pile of secrets."
Sirius smirked. "That's a bleak way of looking at it, Snape. Then again, it's you we're talking about."
Severus met his stare flatly. "And you, Black, fit that description better than most."
"Anyway," Lily cut in before the pair could spark again, "that moment Godric seized the Sword of Damocles—I swear my heart stopped."
"Bugger, I'd forgotten that," Sirius said. "The man was ready to give everything to Nemesis, damn himself to Tartarus if it meant saving his friends. Bloody hell, if that isn't courage."
"I found it curious, even amusing, that Nemesis entertained the wager," Severus said, folding his arms. "Not a pledge, but a gamble. Perhaps even Damocles knew Gryffindor would never give in to his darkness. Seems the gods have a taste for games."
"And that power…" James shook his head, eyes wide. "It gave us a glimpse of what Godric's truly capable of. The books always said he was a great wizard and swordsman, but if this is the measure of his strength… I can believe why the four founders weren't merely revered, but feared."
"Well, they were the most powerful wizards of their age, Potter," Severus said smoothly.
"That reminds me," Lily said suddenly, sitting forward. "Rowena's power—the Mystic Eyes."
"Blow me down," Remus muttered, still astonished at the memory. "When they mentioned it, I nearly fell over. Imagine, powers born purely of bloodlines."
"It's not entirely unheard of," Sirius said with a shrug. "Parselmouths are descended from Slytherin. The Gaunts spoke snake-tongue as if it were their first language."
"Yes, but hissing at snakes is child's play compared to what Rowena could do," Peter said excitedly. "Nullifying magic itself, and those 'lines of life' they described? I don't know what that means, but bloody hell, it's wicked!"
"As I've said before," Severus cut in coolly, arms crossed, "as much as one might like to indulge in such fantasies, there is not a shred of record of these so-called Mystic Eyes. Nor Nevermore, nor Vis Vitalis. As far as history is concerned, they're inventions. No more real than the rest of that fanciful book."
"Perhaps," Myrtle said slyly, a mischievous smile playing at her lips. "Or… we could simply ask a certain someone who might know more."
The room went still as the thought sank in.
"Actually, you're right," Remus blurted. "The Grey Lady—"
"Helena Ravenclaw," Lily said, her grin spreading. "Rowena's own daughter. Myrtle, you're brilliant! She could tell us everything. Even… who her father was!"
"You don't mean—" Sirius' face twisted. "Bran? Bugger, that'd scar a person for life."
"Thank you ever so much for putting that image in my head, Black," Severus said dryly, glaring. "In any case, I wouldn't be too quick to celebrate. There's every chance Rowena kept such matters hidden, even from her daughter."
"Or," James said quickly, "there's the chance Helena inherited the power herself."
"If that were so, Potter," Severus replied flatly, "her end would not have been as it was. Lest you forget, the one responsible for her death still haunts these very halls."
A silence lingered over them after that last revelation. Severus gave a small shrug, his gaze flicking to the clock before he rose to his feet.
"Well, as diverting as our little book club has been, it's late. We've classes in the morning."
"Bloody hell, where does the time go?" Sirius groaned, standing as well. "Time really does fly when you're knee-deep in sword fights and sorcery."
"I can't wait to find out what happens next," Peter piped up, scrambling up and brushing crumbs from his shirt. He clasped his hands together with wide, pleading eyes. "Can we come back tomorrow? Please?"
Remus shook his head with a weary sigh. "At this rate, our obsession with that bloody book will see us locked away in Saint Mungo's for sure."
"At least we'll have company," James said with a crooked grin.
Lily rose too, stretching before scooping up the satchel at her feet and slipping the book inside. Slinging it over her shoulder, she said, "Well then, I'll see you boys back at the dorms."
"Whoa, hold on," Sirius cut in, holding up a hand. "You're coming with us."
Lily and Myrtle blinked, both a little surprised.
"There's no way we're letting you walk back on your own," Sirius continued firmly. "Not with that wanker Malfoy still skulking about."
"I hate to admit it, but he's right," James added. "The last thing we need is another repeat of what happened earlier today."
"I'd like to see him try," Peter muttered darkly. "Prefect or not, I'll have him coughing up slugs for a week."
Lily tilted her head, giving them a flat stare. "Honestly. Do you all have so little faith in me that—"
Severus cut across her. "As much as it pains me, I agree with them." His dark eyes found hers. "I know Lucius. He's a Malfoy to the bone, and Malfoys never let slights go unanswered. Especially when it concerns mud—" He stopped short, catching himself before the word slipped. Noticing the boys' dirty stares, he cleared his throat. "Apologies. Muggle-borns. Either way, you'd be safer with them. Even if I can't stand them."
"Aww, we love you too, Snivellus," Sirius smirked.
Severus shot him a withering glare.
Lily sighed, resigned. "Fine. I'll humor you this once."
"Well then," Myrtle said brightly, "while you lot play bodyguards, I'll have a word with Helena. Perhaps I can convince her to speak with us." She gave a little wave before drifting through the floor, vanishing from sight.
"Right," Lily said with a grin, heading for the door. "If you're all going to fuss, best get a move on."
The boys exchanged glances, then followed after her.
****
The following day passed in a blur of lessons. Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration class, where the task was to turn porcupines into pincushions, dragged on far longer than anyone would have liked. Lily couldn't help but notice the scowl etched on Severus' face as he glared at his stubborn porcupine. A part of her nearly laughed, realizing he now seemed to share Salazar's notorious disdain for the subject. The rest of the boys fared little better—save for Remus, who performed admirably and earned himself yet another round of teasing as "the teacher's pet."
Potions with Professor Slughorn was another matter entirely. Severus thrived in the dungeon classroom, gliding through the work with precision and confidence. His potion shimmered exactly as the textbook described, drawing Slughorn's delighted praise. The portly professor beamed with approval while the others, James, Sirius, Peter, even Remus, could only roll their eyes in exasperation. Lily ignored their mutterings, her focus squarely on her own cauldron.
The day wore on, each toll of the clock pulling them closer to freedom, until at last the final chime marked the end of lessons. Bags were packed, chairs scraped back, and chatter filled the room. Lily slung her satchel over her shoulder, ready to leave, when a voice called out.
"Miss Evans?"
She turned, startled, to find Professor Slughorn approaching. His round frame was wrapped in a neat brown suit with a matching bow tie, his slicked-back hair gleaming under the torchlight.
"Pardon me," he said kindly, "but Professor Dumbledore would like a word with you in his office."
Lily froze, eyes wide, the color draining from her face. Her heart thudded, cold dread coiling in her stomach. Around her, the boys stilled as well, exchanging uneasy glances.
"Have… have I done something wrong, Professor?" she asked.
Slughorn chuckled warmly, waving a hand. "Oh, pish-posh, Miss Evans, of course not. You're not in any sort of trouble, don't fret yourself." His smile softened, though his eyes darted briefly toward the boys. "Professor Dumbledore merely requires some clarifications about… a certain incident yesterday. Nothing more. Rest assured, everything is quite fine. Now, off with you, best not keep him waiting."
Lily swallowed hard and nodded, her grip tightening on the strap of her satchel. She turned to go, but James shifted instinctively, half-reaching toward her before Sirius placed a firm hand on his shoulder, giving the smallest shake of his head.
Drawing in a steadying breath, Lily straightened her back and walked toward the door, each step carrying her closer to whatever awaited in the Headmaster's office.
****
Lily had only been to the headmaster's office once before—an invitation from Professor Dumbledore himself, extended to her and several other first-year muggle-borns as a personal welcome to Hogwarts, something he did often. This time, however, she had been summoned. Despite Professor Slughorn's assurances, an uneasy chill coiled in her stomach as she climbed the stone staircase and wound her way through the quiet corridors toward the upper floors.
Her steps slowed when she reached the great stone statue that guarded the entrance. With a grinding groan, it shifted aside and curled upward into a staircase, each step forming beneath her feet. The sound of stone against stone echoed in the silence as she ascended.
The office was spacious, almost grand in its scale. Shelves laden with books curved around the circular walls, broken only by tall windows whose gothic frames let in the last burnished glow of dusk. Columns of carved stone reached up into the vaulted ceiling. A wooden desk sat upon a short dais, bathed in warm amber light cast by the fire in the crackling hearth, and the faint scent of mint and buttered scones hung in the air.
Behind the desk sat Professor Dumbledore, his eyes steady and unreadable behind the half-moon spectacles as he regarded her.
But Lily was not alone.
Before the desk stood an older girl with long, wavy auburn hair. Lily recognized her instantly—Lara Ashford, the American girl from the previous day. To her right was Lucius Malfoy, his pale face set with a smug grin, the expression of someone convinced he held the upper hand.
At his side stood a tall man Lily did not know. His robes were black velvet, trimmed with emerald satin, a cloak draped over his right shoulder fastened with golden cords. The Malfoy crest was stitched in bright gold upon it, gleaming even in the dim light. His hair was platinum blonde, slicked back in short, sharp spikes, and his cold grey eyes fell on her with open disdain, the weight of his contempt pressing heavily as she entered.
"Miss Evans," Professor Dumbledore said at last. He lifted a hand, gesturing her forward. "Please, do come in."
"Must we endure this preposterous charade, Albus?" the man drawled, his hand tightening around the polished length of his ebony cane. The silver serpent's head at its tip gleamed in the firelight, fangs bared as though ready to strike. "The matter is quite simple. That uncultured savage not only assaulted my nephew but openly threatened his life with forbidden magic."
"Begging you a pardon, mister," Lara cut in, head tilted with a defiant smirk. "But maybe your ears don't work so well. Either that, or all that fancy oil you slick into your scalp's finally rotted your brain, 'cause I can't rightly believe any man with half a lick of sense would call it proper for some boy to lay filthy hands on a girl." She gave a scoff, her lip curling. "Then again, ya'll Malfoys never were much of a model for virtue."
Cassius Malfoy's eyes flared with cold fire. "You wretched child. I ought to teach you some respect—"
"You will do no such thing, Cassius," Dumbledore exclaimed. His gaze swept to Lara, firm but measured. "And as for you, Miss Ashford, I must insist you show some semblance of decorum. You stand in enough jeopardy as it is." He drew a steadying breath, then turned his attention back to Lily. "Now, Miss Evans…"
Lily stiffened at Dumbledore's words, her hands curling tighter around the strap of her satchel.
"Would you kindly recount for us, in full, what transpired yesterday between Mister Malfoy and Miss Ashford?" Dumbledore said, his tone measured but leaving no room for evasion. "Leave nothing out."
"Well…" Lily's eyes flicked to Lucian, who returned her look with a cold glare. "It was just after lunch. I was headed back to the dormitory when Lucian cornered me. Rather forcefully, if I may add."
"She's lying!" Lucian spat. "Making it all up, filthy little—"
One sharp look from Dumbledore froze him in place. His jaw worked soundlessly, the insult dying on his lips.
"Do continue, Miss Evans," Dumbledore urged.
"As I said," Lily's gaze dropped to the stone floor. "He pinned me against the wall. Then he took something of mine. I demanded he give it back, but he refused. That was when…" she glanced toward Lara, "Miss Ashford stepped in."
Dumbledore turned his gaze on Lucian. "Is this true, Mister Malfoy?"
Cassius answered for him. "Regardless of details, my nephew was assaulted. That is all that matters." His lip curled in disdain as he cast a scathing look at Lily, his eyes sweeping over her as though she were dirt on his boots. "I could not care less if some… girl was caught in the middle of it. Both of them ought to be expelled at once."
Lily's stomach sank, but Dumbledore raised a calming hand. "Perhaps you are accustomed, Cassius, to acts such as these passing without consequence. Just as you are accustomed to holding certain… perspectives, about your fellow wizards." His gaze sharpened. "But Hogwarts was founded upon equality. Here, all are welcome, regardless of blood, creed, or circumstance of birth."
Cassius' mouth twitched, his knuckles whitening around his serpent-headed cane.
"Your family," Dumbledore continued, "has long lived above consequence. Beyond these walls, you may hold sway enough to keep yourselves untouched. But you will find such influence means nothing to me."
Cassius leaned forward. "Bold words, Albus. Within these four walls, you may play king, but never forget. I am steward of House Malfoy. My word carries far more weight than anything that comes out of this pitiful institution."
His steel-grey eyes snapped toward Lara, his lips curling with disdain. "And as for that wench, I demanded the presence of her parents whilst she faced the weight of her misdeeds." He gave a short, derisive laugh. "Pathetic, isn't it? That no one from her so-called illustrious family could even be bothered to show their face." His words dripped with contempt. "As expected of those born and bred in a land of savages."
A new voice, smooth as molasses and cutting as broken glass, drifted in from behind them.
"Now, sugar, ain't no need for name-callin'."
Every head turned. Lara whirled, her breath catching. A woman had stepped into the office. Auburn hair wound neatly into a bun beneath a white rose-trimmed hat. She was dressed in a sweeping white gown edged with soft pink frills and bows. The picture of a southern belle plucked straight from another age. White laced gloves adorned her hands, and an ornate parasol rested in her grip like a cane.
Lara's face split into a grin of relief and joy. Cassius' expression curdled, his fury barely contained.
"Annabelle," he hissed.
"Lord have mercy," Annabelle drawled. She pressed a hand to her chest in mock surprise. "If it ain't Cassius Malfoy, standin' here in the flesh. My, my, bless your heart. Looks like them years done chewed you up and spit you out sideways." Her smile widened, sweet as pie, yet the edges of her words cut sharper than glass.
Lily's breath caught.
"What in bloody blazes are you doing here?" Cassius snapped, storming forward, his serpent-headed cane clicking sharply against the stone floor. "This matter does not concern you."
Annabelle's laugh was slow, lilting, and sweet as honey. "Oh, Cassius, always puffin' up like a banty rooster in a henhouse. Daddy used to say y'all Malfoys were dumber than a sack o' hammers. But you? Why, sugar, you're proof that sometimes God breaks the mold just to see how foolish a man can get."
Cassius' face twisted, fury rising like steam. Lara and Lily exchanged a glance, both sensing the weight in the air. This wasn't some petty quarrel, this was history clawing its way into the room. Yet Lily couldn't help but feel it went deeper, something older, more personal.
"And your arrogance most certainly knows no bounds," Cassius sneered. "Perhaps you, like the rest of your ignorant kin, have conveniently forgotten your rather sordid legacy, being from what your kind so proudly call the Deep South." His eyes narrowed to cruel slits. "But it wasn't just the color of their skin, was it? Muggles, muggle-borns, squibs, shackled and sold like cattle. Tell me, Anna, how does it feel to carry such bloodied roots?"
Lily's stomach lurched, her breath shallow. Images of Avalon's enslaved flashed through her mind, the Slavery Laws that treated lives as little more than coin and trade.
But Annabelle only tilted her parasol, her smile unshaken. "No one's forgotten a damned thing, Cassius. I can't change the past no more than I can keep the wolves from howlin' at a full moon. But here's the catch, sugar—" she leaned forward, her emerald eyes burning. "I don't strut around wearin' my family's sins like a ribbon on a prize hog."
Cassius' lips peeled back, ready to strike, but Annabelle didn't give him the chance.
"And let's not pretend, darlin'. Slavery's one thing, but your kin? Your kin got fat sellin' folk downriver, struttin' through generations hidin' behind titles, hidin' behind money. And while the rest of us were out buildin' somethin' new, you Malfoys were crawlin' into bed with tyrants and dark lords, tryin' to carve your names into history with other people's blood."
Lucius stiffened at her words, his grey eyes flashing, but it was Cassius whose fury truly boiled, his cane trembling in his grip. "You egotistical, insolent, little wench—"
Annabelle's smile deepened. "Careful now, you silly little man. Don't let your mouth gallop faster than that tired little brain o' yours can run. Wouldn't want folk rememberin' the last time a Malfoy got too big for his britches."
She leaned in close. "'Cause I surely do. And don't you forget, I showed you personal-like that even the prettiest rose in Momma's garden's got thorns sharper'n a bramble patch come springtime. You thought I'd wilt when you came swingin', but sugar, I cut deeper'n you ever reckoned."
Cassius' steel-grey eyes burned, not only with disdain but with something more brittle, almost wounded, buried beneath the fury. His jaw clenched as he forced the words out.
"Oh, I'm well aware," he said at last. "More than you might ever think. And in more ways than one." His lips curled, as though the admission itself left a bitter taste. "I'll grant you this much. It was folly. Folly on my part."
"Well, then… in case you ain't put two an' two together," Annabelle went on, "that girl right there? That's my goddaughter. And when you tussle with her, you're tusslin' with me." Her parasol clicked once against the floor as she levelled her stare at Cassius. "You wanted family, well here I am, sugar."
His composure cracked like porcelain, every eye in the room watching as Annabelle peeled back layer after layer of Malfoy pride with nothing but charm and recollection.
Then, turning as though the tirade had been nothing more than a passing breeze, Annabelle offered Dumbledore a warm, dazzling smile. She slipped off her gloves with careful grace, holding out her hand. "Beggin' you a pardon for the intrusion, Professor. Annabelle Calhoun. Mighty pleased to meet you proper. An honor, truly, specially meetin' a man o' your stature."
Dumbledore inclined his head, a faint smile softening his features as he brushed her hand with the lightest of kisses.
"The honor is mine, Madam Calhoun," he said warmly. "Your family's reputation precedes you, as does your own. I've heard many a tale of the White Rose of Louisiana, yet even so, the stories fail to capture the truth. Beauty, grace, and spirit alike. No parchment nor tongue could ever do them justice."
"Oh, darlin', you're makin' me blush." Annabelle laughed lightly, though her gaze slid back to Cassius, cutting him anew. "Such a gentleman. Least I see there's still men round these halls who remember what bein' a man truly means. Not just struttin' and sneerin' with snake-head canes."
Lucius stood frozen, wide-eyed, struggling to grasp what had just unfolded. Lara's smirk only deepened, though Cassius' composure shattered. With a furious snarl he spun back to the desk, slamming his palm flat against the polished wood.
"Enough of this buffoonery!" he roared. "I demand they both be expelled this instant, Albus, or so help me, there will be consequences. I shall bring the full weight of the Ministry down upon you."
Dumbledore, however, remained seated, calm as stone. His gaze was level. "Assuming I were to humor your demand, Cassius, on what grounds would you have me expel these young ladies?" He raised a single finger before the man could interrupt. "And I do hope your reason proves valid, rather than some thinly veiled echo of your prejudices."
"Unbelievable!" Cassius barked. "Does assault no longer matter? Do threats and lies no longer carry consequence? You speak of bias, Albus, yet perhaps it is you who ought to examine your own values in the mirror."
Annabelle gave a slow, theatrical sigh, rolling her eyes. "Lord love a duck, Malfoys do yap more'n a Pomeranian in a thunderstorm." Cassius shot her a look of pure venom, but she only grinned. "If it'll hush all this hollerin' once and for all…" She turned, whistling sharply. "You're up, sugar."
The sound of footsteps echoed from the staircase. Steady, unhurried, drawing every eye in the room. Lily's breath caught when the figure stepped into the glow of torchlight. A girl in Slytherin robes, no older than fifteen. Curls of black hair, tipped with platinum blonde, framed her pale face.
Lucius went ghost-pale. "Narcissa…?" he whispered.
The girl stopped before the desk and inclined her head respectfully. "Professor."
"Miss Black," Dumbledore greeted, his tone formal, though his eyes flicked curiously to Annabelle. "May I ask what brings you here at this hour?"
Narcissa clasped her hands. "I am here at Miss Calhoun's request, sir, to give you my account of yesterday's events." She straightened, gaze unwavering. "For I was present when it occurred."
"Preposterous!" Cassius exploded, pointing the serpent's head of his cane directly at her. "She cannot possibly be telling the truth! That wretched woman has manipulated her!"
Annabelle's grin sharpened, eyes glinting. "Aw, ain't that precious? Can't play the M-word card on her, can you, sugar? She's pureblood stock through and through."
She gestured with the curved handle of her parasol. "And let me set somethin' straight, I don't need to twist no one's arm to tell the truth. Maybe you Malfoys oughta learn somethin' 'bout pickin' your fights. Friends get scarce mighty fast when you're set on makin' enemies outta every soul in the room."
Narcissa's eyes flicked to Lucius, and for a fleeting moment his composure cracked. His lips trembled as he gave the slightest shake of his head, pleading silently. Her gaze hardened, then she turned back to Dumbledore.
"Everything Miss Evans said is true," she declared. "And it isn't only her. He's been doing the same to others."
"You wretched little liar!" Cassius spat, his cane rattling as he struck it against the stone floor. "My nephew would never—"
"Cassius!" Dumbledore's voice thundered like a whipcrack. The man faltered, color draining from his face as the headmaster's piercing stare fixed upon him.
"My first and final warning," he said. "Since the moment you set foot in this office you have been belligerent, disruptive, and entirely devoid of courtesy. You've offered no proof of your nephew's innocence. Only posturing, demands, and veiled threats."
"Furthermore, you are addressing one of my students. And while they remain in these halls, they remain under the protection of this school—my protection. As I have reminded your nephew before, so long as you walk these hallowed corridors, you will temper your tongue and you will remember your place."
His gaze hardened, half-moon spectacles catching the firelight. The warmth gone from his eyes.
"For if I may be perfectly frank, Cassius, you have drifted long enough in the harbor of my patience. And it is very nearly at its flood."
His gaze then shifted to Lucius, who began to sweat under the weight of it.
"That being said, this is not the first time I have personally caught you in such a predicament," Dumbledore continued. "Warnings have been given. And yet, rather than deter you, they have only emboldened you."
He drew a breath, then looked across the room. "Miss Evans, Miss Ashford, Miss Black—you are excused. I must have words with Mr. Malfoy and his nephew."
Cassius opened his mouth to protest, but the steel in Dumbledore's eyes froze him in place.
Annabelle slipped her glove back on with a snap and flashed Dumbledore a sweet smile. "Thank you kindly, Professor. If you ever find yourself wanderin' down New Orleans way, don't be shy now, give me a holler." She winked, clicking her tongue.
"I most certainly will, Madam," Dumbledore replied.
Annabelle stepped past Cassius, pausing just long enough to give him a wolfish grin. "Word o' advice, sugar: if you can't run with the big dogs, best stay on the porch." She let her eyes flick over him once more, "And as my daddy always said, don't let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya."
Cassius' teeth ground audibly, fury burning behind his eyes as Lara followed with her own smirk. Lily cast a nervous look before hurrying after them, and Narcissa lingered just long enough to let out a soft scoff before sweeping out.
"Oh, and one more thing, Miss Ashford." Dumbledore's words halted Lara mid-stride.
She froze, turning back to face him. His expression had lost all trace of warmth; his gaze was flint behind the half-moon spectacles.
"I am well aware of your family's lineage, and more precisely, of its secret. Consider this a reminder: so long as you remain a student of Hogwarts, that secret will remain buried. Speak of it again, and rest assured…" His eyes locked with hers. "…the consequences will be most severe."
Lara's face drained of color, her throat working as she swallowed hard. She nodded once, stiffly.
With the barest tilt of his chin, Dumbledore gestured to the exit, dismissing them. Once the girls had gone, silence closed in like a vice. The fire crackled in the grate, and Dumbledore leaned back, folding his hands together.
"Now," he said quietly, his words sinking into the chamber like iron weights, "we are going to have a long, honest discussion." His spectacles slid slightly down the bridge of his nose as he peered over them, blue eyes glacial. "A discussion on ethics. On morals. And most importantly… on corrective measures."
His fingers tapped once against the desk, sharp as a gavel. "And by the time this night is through, neither of you will leave this office unchanged."
****
Lara stretched, arms above her head, back popping as she leaned. "Woo-wee, that was a close shave," she said, shaking out her shoulders. "If you hadn't strolled in when you did, Teedy, I'd be halfway back across the pond in a crate marked 'return to sender'—tied up tighter than mail on horseback."
The corridor beyond Dumbledore's office was mostly quiet, though a handful of students lingered nearby. Their eyes followed the woman in the frilled dress, whispers trailing in her wake. Not mocking, but cautious, almost reverent. Lily caught the glances, then turned back toward the pair. Calhoun. The name was unfamiliar to her ears, yet Cassius Malfoy's reaction had spoken volumes. If her guess was right, the Calhouns carried the same weight, and the same notoriety, in America as the Malfoys did in Britain.
Annabelle slipped up beside Lara and pulled her into a quick, firm hug. "You alright, sugar?" she asked. "That no-account guttersnipe didn't so much as lay a finger on you, did he?"
Lara smirked. "Aw, Teedy, come on now. Gonna take more'n a gaggle of Malfoys to rattle my fence."
Annabelle's smile hardened. She reached out, pinched Lara by the ear, and tugged. Hard. "Then what in tarnation were you thinkin' pullin' Allan on the boy?!" she scolded, dragging the girl down the corridor.
"I'm all for seein' a Malfoy get his due, but you just cain't help yourself, can you? Always takin' it that one step too far. I've told you once like I've told you a thousand dang times, this ain't Uncle Sam's backyard, Lara!"
"Ow! Ow, ow, ow!" Lara yelped, stumbling as she tried to twist free. "Alright, alright! Dagnabbit, I said I was sorry!"
"Not near as sorry as you'll be when your momma hears tell of this!" Annabelle snapped, still tugging. "And don't you fret, your daddy'll have his say too."
"Jesus Christ, woman!" Lara cried, flailing her arms. "Ain't no need to holler it to the whole damned world!"
Atop one of the stone ledges, Allan the raven tilted his head at the sight, feathers sleek in the torchlight. With the air of one long used to Lara's antics, the bird gave a croak, flapped his wings, and soared overhead, trailing after them with a faint, unimpressed caw.
Lily lingered for a moment, watching Annabelle and Lara disappear round the corner, their words fading into the bustle of the corridor. She exhaled slowly, a ripple of relief passing through her chest. At last, it was over, or so she thought.
When she turned, she nearly collided with Narcissa.
Lily instinctively drew back, her breath catching as those cold blue eyes swept over her, sharp and appraising, as though weighing her worth in silence. That same look of detached disdain the Malfoys carried so naturally, yet colder. Then, without breaking eye contact, Narcissa extended a hand.
"I don't believe we've been formally introduced," she said. "Narcissa Black."
Lily raised an eyebrow. "Black?" she echoed. "I don't want to assume, but—are you related to Sirius?"
"My cousin," Narcissa replied airily, though a faint curl of her lip betrayed distaste. "We are not… on the best of terms. Family politics, I daresay you understand." She paused, then gave a condescending chuckle. "On second thought, perhaps you don't. Can't say I'm not envious."
"Huh." Lily nodded warily before taking the offered hand. "Lily Evans."
The moment their hands touched, Narcissa leaned in. Her breath brushed against Lily's ear. "I know," she whispered. "About that book. About your little escapades with those Gryffindor boys… and Snape."
Lily froze, her eyes widening. A cold prickle raced down her spine, her hand stiff in Narcissa's grip. She searched for words but found none.
Narcissa withdrew gracefully, her smirk widening as she released Lily's hand. This time her chuckle was genuine, amused. "Oh, the look on your face, Evans." She tilted her head. "If you're wondering—no, I've no intention of running off to the professors." She raised a finger, wagging it slightly. "On one condition."
Lily blinked. "Ex… excuse me?"
"I want in," Narcissa said. "Did you truly think I stood up for you tonight solely because of Lady Calhoun? That was… part of it, certainly. But the truth is I want a place in your little circle." She leaned closer. "I want to hear everything. About the founders. About Avalon. Every last word."
"B-b-but… why?" Lily stammered.
Narcissa's lips curved into a grin. Mischief laced with arrogance. "Let's just say I have a taste for well-spun tales. Especially those with distant lands, daring duels, and secrets buried in forgotten histories." Her grey eyes glinted. "From Lucius' panicked ramblings yesterday, it sounded… deliciously intriguing. So I've decided I want more."
Lily's grip tightened on her bag strap. "And if I refuse?"
Narcissa tilted her head, folding her arms with an elegant nonchalance. "Then I walk straight back upstairs and inform Dumbledore that my account was nothing more than an overzealous fabrication. That ought to give my dear Lucius and his uncle precisely the vindication they crave."
Lily's eyes narrowed. "If you did that, you'd be expelled as well."
"Perhaps," Narcissa breathed, the grin never faltering. "But do remember—I am a Black. I'll land on my feet. So will Lara Ashford. You may not know it, but the Ashfords are pure-bloods of pedigree, their lineage bound to America's founding families, same as the Calhouns. She'll survive. You on the other hand…"
She let the thought linger.
Lily's jaw tightened. She hated the truth in Narcissa's words.
"Now then," Narcissa stepped closer. "What will it be… Evans?"
****
The swaying pendulum and the tick of the grandfather clock filled the silence of the Room of Requirement, every beat deafening. The boys sat rooted to the floor, wide-eyed, mouths half open, as though carved from stone. Even Severus, though outwardly calmer, betrayed his unease in the tightness of his jaw. All eyes fixed on Narcissa, perched neatly beside Lily, who wore a nervous, apologetic smile. Even Myrtle hovered close, her translucent face screwed in disbelief.
"Bloody hell," Remus muttered, gesturing toward Narcissa. "I thought it was bad enough letting Severus into this little club. But this?"
"What in blazes did you pull, Narcissa?" Sirius snapped, fury in his eyes. "Threats? Blackmail? That's always been your style."
"Please," Narcissa tilted her head with cool disdain. "You give me far too much credit, cousin. I don't know what nonsense your mother's fed you about me, but I've no need for such tricks."
"Save it," Sirius spat. "You never fooled me then, and you're not fooling anyone now."
"Though I share in your distaste for Sirius, Narcissa," Severus cut in, "I'm inclined to agree with him here. You're no angel. Far from it."
"How sweet," Narcissa sneered. "Severus Snape, the runt of the litter, thinking himself part of the pack simply because they tolerate him. Let's not forget, were it not for this book, you'd still be dangling by your ankles." Her eyes flicked to James. "Potter's doing, wasn't it?"
James' jaw tightened. "Rich words, coming from you. Don't think we haven't heard of the little cruelties you and your harpies amuse yourselves with at the expense of Muggle-borns."
"And I can confirm that," Myrtle chimed in crossly, folding her ghostly arms.
"People, people," Peter blurted, lifting his hands. "Can't we all just… get along?"
"Shut up, Pettigrew!" the room snapped in unison, making him flinch so hard his crisps spilled onto the rug.
"I say we Obliviate the wench and toss her out on her arse!" Sirius barked. "All in favor, say aye."
"Aye!" James, Remus, and even Myrtle shot their hands up at once.
"Enough!" Lily cried out, silencing them in an instant. All four flinched, caught out like schoolboys pinched in mischief. "What are the lot of you, five? I'd say I'm ashamed, but you've already proved to have the maturity of an unseasoned cabbage."
"An unseasoned… what?" Remus frowned.
"Oh, I've got to remember that one," Peter grinned, earning another round of scowls.
Lily pinched the bridge of her nose, exasperated. "None of you has any right to sit there pointing fingers, calling others delinquents." Her gaze swept over each of them, hard as steel, before she flicked her hand toward Severus. "Case in point."
"Thank you, Evans, for your most flattering illustration," Severus said flatly, half-lidded eyes narrowing.
The four boys dropped their gazes like chastised children.
"I don't know what history you lot have with Narcissa, and frankly I don't care," Lily went on. "As far as I'm concerned, while we're in this room, we will be civil. Narcissa is caught up, she knows the rules, and we will continue from where we left off."
She turned a slow look on each of them, her hand finally lifting to the door. "And if you cannot accept that… there's the door."
A heavy silence hung between them, lingering long enough to make the air feel thick. Sirius was the first to break it, letting out a sharp exhale. "Fine. Like Snape, I'll call a truce. But only so long as we're in this bloody room."
"I concur," Severus said dryly, his tone cutting. "Regretfully, if I may add."
"Pleasure," Narcissa replied, her lips curling into a prim little simper.
"Good." Lily's eyes narrowed briefly as she flipped through the book, finding her marked page. "Now that we've wasted quite enough time, let's continue."
She straightened the hardback in her hands and cleared her throat. The weight in the room shifted as their eyes fell back on her, all of them drawn, despite themselves, into the tale waiting to be told. In an instant, the walls of Hogwarts faded, and the mythical land of Avalon began to breathe again through her voice.