"Have you seen Umbridge glare at her? I almost expected Hitchens to go up in flames."

"Dumbledore was certainly amused."

"By Merlin, Morgana and the Three Bethen, I am so glad that Snape is gone."

"But what if she's even worse than him?" Ron asked into the still upbeat group of people that awaited their Professor to arrive for their first session of Potions in their fifth year.

"Nobody's worse than Snape." Harry replied with a relieved smile on his face.

Harry had been one of those who were so happy that the Potion Master was gone, they celebrated until late in the night. Many wore rings under their eyes, but definitely showed no signs of lost sleep. The simple fact that they wouldn't have to suffer through hours of sneering and snarling, insults and unfair point deduction seemed to give them energy.

Hermione suspected it to be even more for Harry. He had always been so distant and sad during the summer. Hearing that his nemesis resigned from teaching was hope on the horizon. Fate turning its tides not against him for one time. The raven-haired boy nearly shook with excitement in front of the Potions classroom. It was one surreal picture if Hermione ever saw one. Harry looking forward to potions. She wouldn't be surprised if tomorrow the earth decided to circle around the moon.

But she would lie to herself if she denied that she probably was equally jittery, if for different reasons entirely. Potions was now taught by a necromancer. A necromancer she had asked for help, maybe even guidance or mentorship.

Then again, she was equally astonished by the fact that she wanted to know more about this. Maybe even more than about any other subject. Rukh had promised her that this wasn't her doing. All of that longing came from her own mind, and that alone.

She was torn from her musing when the door to the classroom opened with a creak. Unsure of the new situation the students began to slowly step into the room.

"What the bloody hell happened here?" came from Ron.

Hermione even forgot to scold him for his language when she saw the absolutely stunning dungeon room before her. For a first, it was huge. The room was approximately thrice the size of the old dungeon and broken up into three different areas that all were welcoming and brightly lit with magical torches and candles floating around as well as enchanted stones that illuminated the working tables beneath them in a neutral light that was perfect for working.

The most noticeable part of the room was a sitting area with arabic looking sitting cushions and a blackboard. The bronze, silver, black and golden cushions looked comfortable and the candlelight above them invited to sit down and relax.

The entirety of the normal to the creepy ingredients were stored in another part of the room that had a small, metallic bar table in the middle with the cupboards holding the masses of different potions, ingredients and tools.

In the center of the entire room, where the already known working tables were situated and small fires with cauldrons above or beside them, were already burning.

Hermione took the seat she always took and looked into the cauldron to satisfy her curiosity. The smell that came from it was sour, but not disgustingly so. It was more like citrus and limes, combined with vinegar. It's golden-brown color was familiar to her, but she couldn't quite point her finger at it and left it be with a shrug.

When Hermione looked up she startled for a second at the sight of billowing, black robes walking quickly past her. For a dreadful second she thought that Snape was once again among them, but the white, equally billowing hair calmed her nerves quickly. Instead she wondered if dramatic entries were taught in Potions master classes.

Professor Hitchens seized everybody's attention and the murmuring and wondering voices quickly went silent at the oh-so familiar strut to the teachers desk. When Hermione merely startled at the sight, Neville and Harry were close to fainting before their gazes met the graceful, definitely not unwashed, white hair that played around an equally beautiful face.

Hitchens sat down behind the desk and in the same motion took a small folder from a leather satchel she had carried, hidden by her robes.

"Fifth year, Gryffindor and Slytherin. Champions, geniuses and nobility, oh my." she said with a silent chuckle. The smile she gave them was filled with encouragement and kindness. Hermione thought she also saw some mischief in it that gave her face youth.

"Hmm... I wonder..." she started and tipped her temple with her fingers while searching in the room. "Mr Potter! Do you know what kind of potion that is next to you?"

Harry paled at the question that painfully reminded him of his first year. He sat back in his chair, crossed the arms in front of his chest and nearly spat back "No, Professor."

But Isla Hitchens didn't even react to his tone, much less to the snickering in the Slytherin part of the classroom.. Instead her smile grew wider. "Try smelling it, ." she said with a gesture towards the cauldron.

Harry, even though reluctantly, did as she asked and leaned forward to take a sniff from the smoke that arose from the cauldron. His face, so twisted in a defiant frown before, changed into wonder and relaxation at the smell and he lingered above it.

"What do you smell, Mr. Potter?"

The voice of Harry was a breathless whisper as he answered. "It smells like flying in rain-washed air. I can smell the wet grass and... and..."

Harry shot back from the cauldron and his face took on the color of tomatoes. It left Professor Hitchens giggle like a schoolgirl before she stood up and gave Harry a quick nod with her head.

"I'm sorry, , but I couldn't quite resist. I am, however, surprised that you never saw this potion before or, at least, felt its effect." Hitchens wiggled with her eyebrows and Hermione was sure that now, even the last one in the room was convinced that she was anything but another Snape.

"The potion next to you, " she continued. "...is Amortentia. The strongest, known love potion in the world. Can anyone tell me why it's so potent?"

Out of habit, Hermione wanted to raise her hand but stopped when she thought about the question. Why its so potent? She didn't know. She knew roughly how to brew it. The ingredients weren't that hard to guess and it came pretty close to the Polyjuice Potion in the ways it was brewed. But why...?

" ? ? Maybe you?"

Hermione couldn't do more than to shake her head in the negative. She hated the feeling, more than being physically hurt or insulted. Not knowing made her feel incredibly weak - useless. Malfoy didn't react any different, with the exception that he didn't seem as bothered with his lack of knowledge.

Hitchens released a long, exaggerated sigh at the ignorance of her class. "I thought as much. Many Potion Masters don't explain why something works as it does until the Master classes. Absolute madness, in my eyes. So, grab your parchments and quills. Take notes."

As commanded, the class had their pieces of parchment out and were ready to write when Hitchens flicked her wand at the blackboard and rows after rows of what Hermione knew were arithmantic formulas, were written on it.

"What is love?" Hitchens opened "Many thought about the question time and time again and never came up with a satisfying explanation until, funnily enough, the Muggles became proficient in their means of medicine."

Hermione could hear disgusted sounds from the Slytherin side. Hitchens ignored them and just continued. "Love is, if reduced to mind and body, a chemical reaction of our brains to a different human that we perceive as suitable to either bear or protect our offspring and care about and, or protect us. Additionally, our brains are constructs of connections. We connect, create context and links between our experiences and the things around us. Now with that in mind, why do you think Amortentia is so potent?"

Before Hermione could finish writing her notes to raise her hand, Harry raised his, much to the surprise of the classroom. Hitchens smiled brightly when she waved towards him to answer.

"If I understood this right, then Amortentia creates... connects positive things with the person the potion comes from in our brains, right?"

" , that would be five points for Gryffindor. That is exactly what it does. Over and over again, until one can only feel good in close proximity of the person the potion is tethered to."

Before Hitchens could carry on, Harry raised his hand again. Now Hermione was positively stunned by his demeanor.

"Professor. What if the potions doesn't smell like something but... but... some... body?" he asked with embarrassment evident in his tone.

Professor Hitchens just winked towards him and gifted him with another of her bright smiles. "Then, , some girl can deem herself very lucky." she said to him in a loud whisper. "Amortentia has also been known as Aphrodites Oracle by the ancient greeks. Its newer version, barely a century old, is what you see before you. You can swallow it and then run after the person its linked to like a randy dog. The old potion, however, was poison. Smelling it would take years of your life, but tell you, by scent and vision, who your heart truly desires. The effect is limited to the scent now, due to the methods that make it edible and relatively harmless. But its still true, . There is a good chance that whoever smells like the potion would make you very happy."

Several girls around Harry blushed furiously and Hermione had to once again roll her eyes at the sheer idiocy that they would think he meant them. She wondered who the girl in Harry's heart was, though. Cho Chang? Probably.

"Mr. Malfoy. Since you seem so very amused at my class, tell us what potion stands next to you."

"I don't know, Professor." he answered, the snicker in his face effectively erased.

"A pity, . I let it slide, for now, since it seems that Professor Snapes teachings were more than sup-par. But this potion next to you is one you already brewed in his class. Can anyone tell me... yes, ?"

The pretty, blond Slytherin girl cleared her throat in the most dignified way Hermione had ever heard anyone do before she spoke. "Its a Calming Draught. However..." The Slytherin girl stopped with a unsure shrug of her shoulders.

"Go on, ." Hitchens encouraged.

"It got a slightly wrong color. But the smell and visible texture is the same."

"And what do you think caused this change in color?" Hitchens pressed on. The way she smiled at Greengrass made Hermione jealous. She wanted to be looked at like that by a teacher. The amount of pride, encouragement and kindness in it was enchanting. It got rid of Greengrass' nervous tone in an instant and the pretty blonde answered with new found confidence in her voice.

"I think its because the color-giving part of the potion, the sunflower kernels, are not right."

"What if I tell you they were harvested during a new moon?"

"Then..." The Greengrass girls brows furrowed in concentration until she formed a perfect 'O' with her mouth and looked up at Hitchens with the faintest bit of a smile. "Then its a reverse effect."

" , that is correct. Ten points. May I ask how you know this?"

"My... My mother is a potioneer. I like watching her. She got in a bit of a tantrum one day when she received new moon sunflowers and explained to me why they're so useless for a Calming Draught."

Hitchens eyes lit up at the explanation. "Would you tell the class, then?"

Greengrass looked like she'd rather take a walk with a troll, but nodded anyway. Gone was the confidence with which she spoke to Hitchens and she addressed the class with a clear nervous undertone. "Uhm... The Claming Draught uses positive, no... sorry... uhm... it uses three core ingredients. Sunflower kernel, faegrass and hummingbird feathers, all grinded to fine powder before added. Sunflower holds the power of the sun, faegrass juice has calming properties and hummingbird feathers carry the magic of the soothing tune of the bird. Together they create an amplified effect of calm in the drinker. The new moon ruins the sunflower kernels for calming potions and reverses its properties. The same happens when faegrass is cut with metal instead of picked by hand and if the hummingbird is killed for its feathers before its natural death."

"My, my, . Another five points are in order, I reckon. A wonderful summary and quite accurate." Hitchens complimented and watched with twinkling eyes as Greengrass' mouth formed the first real smile Hermione had ever seen on the normally so noble and indifferent girl.

"The Calming Draught, students, is a prime example of what happens if ingredients are treated wrong. But also a prime example that ingredients that are useless for one potion due to wrong handling, are useful for other concoctions. New Moon Sunflower is the core ingredient of panic inducing potions, often used in to rise heart rates, for example. Faegrass cut by metal blades is used to brew potions that empty ones stomach quite effectively. A useful treatment for common poisoning. The feathers of murdered hummingbirds are, however, useless. For now. I have started a project with the seventh year students to research possible fields of use. If you're interested, ask them. We know merely that the dying screech of a hummingbird robs the feathers of every positive property, leaving quite the mess behind."

Hermione looked up from her notes and was officially smitten by the new Professor. Never in her life at Hogwarts had she taken so much notes in Potions, and the lesson was barely in its fifteenth minute. She looked around herself and found the rest of the class equally taken by Professor Hitchens. Some probably just by the stark contrast between her teaching and the insult loaded monologues Snape called lessons. Others, like Harry seemed to hang on the teachers every word. Still others, like Greengrass, longed for the encouraging smile in their direction.

'Approval. Encouragement. It could've been so easy, Snape.' Hermione thought and smiled at the furious note-taking of Greengrass as Hitchens explained again what she had summarized so perfectly. A light smile was plastered onto the blonde girls face like an ornament into porcelain.

" !" the Professor addressed her through the room and with a lopsided grin pointed at the sour smelling brew next to her. "Maybe you know what this is? Its very advanced, but from what I've heard from my colleagues, if anyone knows its you."

Hermione concentrated and took another smell. Citrus, lime and vinegar flowed into her nostrils as she took a nose full of the scent. It was a brown-golden liquid with something swimming in it that looked like white meat or fish. It was cooked long enough that it didn't resemble anything enough to be certain.

"I know I've read this. Rukh!" Hermione commanded. But the demon stayed silent. "Damnit Rukh, I need this answer. Help me here!"

Again, the demon stayed silent. This time Hermione found her in her thoughts, though, and commanded the demon to answer by sheer force of will.

"Whalers Wine!" Rukh whined at her. "Its Whalers Wine, creator. Leave Rukh alone!" The demon girl shouted the last bit and hid back in Hermiones mind. The bushy haired witch made a mental note to investigate the curious behavior later. She was just glad that she could answer now as the name triggered also the information of the potion.

"Whalers Wine. Its a forbidden potion and its effects are rather... different."

"No false decency, . Tell us what it does."

"It lets any female magical, may it be centaurs, merpeople, goblins and so on, be impregnated by a human. The most famous outcome of such a connection are the mermaids of the carribean. The name comes from the whalers of south africa who were notorious users of the potion."

Instead of the encouraging smile, Hermione received a frown and a cold glare from the Potion Mistress. Its effects were immediate as Hermione sunk as far back in her seat as possible without falling from it.

"How do you know this, ?"

'How do I know this? How...do I... OH BLOODY HELL!' "The restricted section of the library, Professor. I got clearance last year." she blatanly lied. Hermione wasn't even sure if magic this dark could be found in the restricted section. She knew, however, that the book could be found in her trunk, hidden under three layers of clothes.

Hitchens expression cleared up as quick as it darkened, and in its place came a wary smile. Not what Hermione graved to receive, but good enough, she reckoned. Way better than letting slip that she knew about a potion that used sacrifice as a core ingredient from a book that was written by a voodoo priest from Haiti.

"Close call." she said to Rukh with a mental sigh.

"Close call, indeed, " came back the voice of Professor Hitchens in her mind.

Hermione nearly jumped enough to spill the cauldron next to her and she had to stiffle the scream that threatened to escape her mouth. Bad enough that the whole class just saw her startled for no apparent reason.

"For someone who studies the dark arts as thorough as you, your lack of mental shields and filters is rather... disturbing. Especially with a capable warden within you that does nothing but cower before me. Stay back after class. I want to talk to you, apprentice."

"A...Apprentice?"

"Aye. Why do you think I came here in the first place?" she chuckled with the echoing voice that seemed to be located somewhere behind Hermione's temples. "Also, try to not startle like that again."

"I see, . Impressive. But I must remind you that you must tread lightly when around the darker parts of magic. The threshold to irrevocable damage is just too easy to miss. I regret that I won't be able to give points for this, though. I don't think the headmaster would approve." she said with a wink of her eyes and then turned around to the rest of the class to ask about the next potion.

"Dark... magic?" came a whisper from her left. It was Neville, as pale as porcelain.

"I researched for Harry's second task. Don't worry Neville. Whalers Wine sounded like something that could help." she gave back, equally silent. The unsure look of the boy let her sigh in exasperation. Sometimes she found the downright allergic reaction of some of her friends towards dark magic to be a bit much. Sure, one had to be careful and wary of users of said magicks, but the mere mention of it sent some of them into a uncalled for panic.

Hermione couldn't quite follow the rest of the lesson, even though it was more interesting than four years of Potions under Snape combined. Hermione's brain pondered the words of the old, young-looking witch. Apprentice was what she had called her.

Why do you think I came here in the first place?

Not for her, Hermione had thought before the new Professor stated it herself. Hermione had thought it coincidence. She had actually been afraid that Hitchens would tell Dumbledore and she'd wake up in a Ministry holding cell waiting to be shipped to Azkaban.

Instead, the witch was here for her.

Hermione had been sure that the lesson would be over before she'd know it. Interesting lessons tend to fly by while Snape's had been long lasting boredom. Hitchens lesson took ages to end and was absolutely nerve-wrecking, now that she awaited the talk after class. Not to mention that deep in her mind she grew tremendously jealous of the way her mentor took a liking towards Greengrass who answered question after question and had earned twenty-five points at the end of class.

Hermione was on her last nerve reserve when the class finally was ended by a hearty compliment from Hitchens that she held great hopes for this particular class. Smiling faces went out from the classroom and Hermione took extra long to collect her notes and quill. Right after potions, lunch waited for them and no student wanted to wait to fill his belly with the delicious food the elves whipped up.

No student except for two who walked closer to the teachers desk where Professor Hitchens collected the papers from the folder she had produced at the beginning of the class. From a quick glance, Hermione could make out portraits and small vitas for every student in the class.

The door slammed shut and now it was just her, Greengrass and Hitchens in the class.

"What can I do for you, ?"

"I..." she started, but then her face blushed slightly and she fell back into her indifferent persona that Hermione knew so well.

" . I think we have established by now that I am not one to begrudge you your interests. Quite the contrary, in fact. I believe you could be one of the grand minds coming from this class." Professor Hitchens said in a soft voice that was bordering on the tone a mother reserved for her daughter.

"I'm...I'm just wondering if you could... I would need a list of literature regarding potions for..."

Hitchens looked directly into the blondes eyes and a deep frown twisted the beautiful face. "What triple damned inbred are they marrying you to?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Professor." Greengrass answered, but her voice made clear that she was holding back tears.

"Don't play stupid with me, girl. I've heard this question before, you know. Personal studies. Private tutoring. Complete bullshit and you know it. You'll have some uptight, bigot, conservative to the last bit of hair bitch tell you how to drink your freakin' afternoon tea while looking like a porcelain puppet. All you'll keep from your OWL's is the knowledge that you could've been more than some disgusting Lord's breeding cow."

Hermiones eyes went wide as saucers at the complete change in the woman's personality. Her face was twisted in what could only be described as cold rage and Hermione was sure that her mother would hold her ears at the teachers choice of words.

"Tell me, girl. Who is it?"

Greengrass had already let go of every last bit of restraint and the tears flowed freely over her cheeks. Silenced sobs shook her entire body as she tried to uphold at least a last bit of her composure. Her not whining, but straight up despairing voice hurt in Hermione's heart like daggers flying through it. "Its... My father, he... marry... I..."

"Calm yourself. Who is it?"

"Eze... Ezekiel Rosier."

"ABSOLUTELY UNACCEPTABLE!" the white haired witch roared through the dungeon. Wham. Her fist flew with mighty force against her desk and at the sight of the ancient witches glare, Hermione backed up a few steps. Hitchens breathed slowly but deeply and visibly calmed herself before she spoke again. " , you shall not receive a literature list for private tutoring." The teacher spat the last two words out as if she'd talk about something profoundly revolting. "You will remain in my class and by Merlin, Mordred and Solomon, you will take your NEWT's."

Greengrass' skin took on to a snow white color and before Hermione or Hitchens could do anything about it, she kneeled down onto the floor and freely sobbed and cried into her hands as if she was alone. "H-How?" she got out during two heavy sobs.

"I can pull strings far more powerful than any Rosier could ever dream of pulling. I will not let such a brilliant mind as yours be married to Karkaroff's pet - this Grindelwald wannabe. I take it you've seen the Rosier boy before?"

Calmer, Greengrass replied in a silent tone. "Yes. At last years Midsummer Ball at Malfoy Manor."

"Believe me, the boy's soul is even uglier." Hitchens said silently. She then kneeled down, grabbed hold of one of Greengrass' shoulders and whispered softly. "I can truly understand your situation, , for I have suffered the same fate at my parents hands. Tell me, are you afraid of being disowned?"

The simple answer was a darkly amused snort and a slight shaking of the head. "No... It seems like I'm merely worth half of the Cleansweep Workshops to my father, so why cling to him?"

"Good answer, . Five points to Daphne." Hitchens joked softly and drew a chuckle from Greengrass. "Now go, wash your face and eat some lunch. Also... expect a letter from your father some time soon."

"Yes, Professor." Greengrass smiled and ran off, nearly skipping in her steps.

Hermione looked after her, still a bit in stupor by what had just transpired before her. All she could press out was a meager. "Why?"

"Because I really do see a lot of my own situation when I was her age. It was planned that I marry my cousin. Ugh... But still, the Greengrass girl got it worse. Ezekiel Rosier is the antithesis to what his name describes. At least my cousin was handsome."

"Whom did you marry instead?" Hermione asked before she reminded herself that this shouldn't even interest her.

"Bob Hitchens. Muggle. He was a bloody yankee." The white haired witch chuckled cheerfully at her own words and the good memories that she seemed to relive for a short moment. "Good man. Good husband. Great father and uncle."

"Why is he dead? Weren't you friends with Perenelle Flamel?"

Hitchens looked at Hermione with a mixture of amusement and sadness that she thought only the old witch could pull off. "Life is much – much harder for Muggles to endure, . A hundred years he grew old, a true rarity for the time. But without the help from magic, his body grew weak even with the help of potions as strong as the philosophers stone. And even if I asked Perenelle for that rock, I hated that hags guts more than I hated her husband. Mutual, that feeling was."

"You were both the students of Laz... Master Lazarus." Hermione pointed out.

"Yes, we were. She in the 15th century and me in the 18th. I saw her two times total in my entire life. And that was quite enough. That woman is absolutely infuriating."

"Oh..." was the only thing Hermione could offer. She forgot, once again. what time period Isla Hitchens was able to talk about from her own experience.

The old – ancient witch chuckled once again and then gestured Hermione to follow her. The brown haired witch who was barely in her puberty quickly did so and stared open mouthed at the secret passage that opened up from a corner of the classroom. As soon as they stepped over the threshold, the teacher neutrally commented that the 'too nosy for his own good youngster in his Headmaster's office wouldn't be able to eavesdrop here and merely hear an enlightening discussion about potions from Professor to student while also telling Hermione that their talk would have to be quick.

They climbed down several flight of stairs, walked along a small hallway with stonewalls so dirty, Hermione first thought the tunnel was just hacked out of the dirt itself. Another flight of stairs, deeper down. Another hallway, a turn and finally a door with light shining through the gap between it and the floor.

Professor Hitchens walked closely to the door and laid a hand on the handle. She leaned forward as if to open it, but stopped mid-motion. Without turning she said in a silent voice that echoed through the hallway. "Hermione. Within these rooms I want you to call me Mistress Isla or Lady Black. Here I am not your Professor, I'm your mentor. I am the mistress, you are the apprentice. You will obey my every command without question. Am I understood?"

"But earlier you sa..."

"I asked: Am I understood?" Isla interrupted harshly and turned her head to shoot Hermione a threatening glare.

"Yes, Prof... Mistress Isla."

The older womans expression quickly came back to one of kindness and her voice settled down as well. "I have given the students permission to ask because I teach them Potions. Down here, I will teach you the Arts of Death. Necromancy, Soul Magic, Voodoo and the Magicks of the Trinity and the nine Sinners. If I command and you disobey, it could very well mean the end of your life – or worse. Once again, am I understood?"

"Yes, Mistress Isla."

"Very well. Brace yourself." the old witch breathed and pushed the door open with a single motion. She stepped into the brightly lit room and let Hermione standing behind.

She was thinking in overdrive. This was her very last chance to get out of here, forget about all this and just live her life with a demon within her. No big deal. But if she stepped into this room, she would seal her fate to one of a necromancer. She would learn magic so dark that the laws of Britain didn't even bother to write anything but 'Death' as a possible sentence.

But if she wouldn't do it, she wouldn't know. She would never know, never learn.

And with one determined step, she crossed the threshold.

And screamed out her lungs. "OH BLOODY MERLIN!"

"Oh, my. If my son grows up with such potty mouths..." said a warm, almost loving voice that belonged to a red-haired beauty of a woman.

"I ensure you, Lily, that minds her manners when not confronted with the Undead."

"I told you not to call me... that."

"Reborn, then! Geez."

Hermione fell to the floor like a sack of rice and felt her whole body shake violently at the sight before her. So it was all true. Everything she saw back in Grimmauld Place.

Before her sat Lily Potter, grinning at her with her delicate mouth and the same shining emerald eyes that graced her sons face.

"You're...You're..." Hermione started lamely. "You're Lily Potter! You're Harry's... Harry's mother. But... by Merlin, it wasn't my mind playing tricks." Then she turned to her new mentor. "I can't keep this from him! I can't just go up there and act as if I didn't just see his mother." She wanted to continue pleading when the soft voice of Lily Potter cut her rant short before it could even begin.

"Please, do not. I'm not ready. As much as I long to see my baby boy, my body is weak and fragile. I can't sit up like this for even an hour, much less walk or climb stairs. I need a constant regimen of potions and these... rituals to keep me living. Please, do not tell him yet. If not for me then do it for him."

Hermione shut her eyes and shook her head. "I... I just can't. I..."

But Lily Potter pressed on, her voice staying as calm and soft as a mothers should. "What do you think he would do when he knows this and then a ritual fails and I am dead again? Hmm... Hermione?" she asked with her head tilted slightly to the side.

"He...wouldn't survive it." Hermione admitted without a doubt. If Harry were to find his mother alive and then lose her again, it would break his heart in so many pieces that no-one would be able to pick them up again.

Realizing in what an awkward position she sat on the floor, Hermione quickly stood up and rearranged her robes. The two older woman regarded her with well-meant smiles, but Hermione couldn't muster one herself. She has had problems with keeping the secret from Harry even if she had half-convinced herself that it was just a trick of the mind. Now knowing that it was indeed reality, that Lily Potter was truly among the living again, it would be much – much harder to keep it from him.

"Everytime I'll look him in the eyes I'll have to swallow this. Please, just one question. When are you ready? How long will I have to remain silent?"

This time, Isla stepped forward and answered. "We plan on letting a 'confused'..." she gestured quotes in the air. "... Lily step into the house of the Weasleys at Christmas. Lily and I have agreed on completely erasing her memory once she leaves this workshop. All she'll know is that a necromancer had raised her and that now that the experiment is done, he had dropped her off. Even experienced Legilimens, such as Albus, won't be able to tell the lie. After all, no one in Britain knows that this is even possible. I doubt that anyone on the planet knows how the memories of such a person must look like."

Hermione played back the plan in her mind and thought about it for a second. As far as she knew, it was pretty foolproof. Except for one, little detail. "What if they look at my memory?"

"That is actually why I asked you to stay behind." Mistress Isla said and turned around to reach for a small book. She held it up for Hermione to see while her finger touched it carefully. "This is a book on the Mind Arts, specifically for people with your ways of warding your mind. Occlumency, Legilimency and Telekinesis. I want you to learn it by heart and follow its instructions. You must learn to control your mind and block others out. Not just for this plan to work, but for both our safety. I cannot teach you the Arts of Death if I have to fear a leak."

With a wry smile she handed the book to Hermione, but didn't let go of it right away. "For now, Hermione, I must obliviate you. Do you understand why?"

Hermione audibly gulped down the bile that had instantly formed in her throat. She understood, but hell would sooner freeze before she'd be comfortable with losing her memories. Despite her fears she nodded to her new Mistress who merely flicked her wand and for a second, it all went dark for Hermione.

She stood in the Potions classroom and stared at the book in her hand. Professor Hitchens, or Mistress Isla as she was supposed to call her... somewhere, was gone. She was the only one left standing between the still smoking cauldrons what left her enough time to order her thoughts and press down the headache that had formed in her mind before leaving for lunch. She didn't remember much. She was supposed to read the book in her hands and learn its content. She was the apprentice of Isla Hitchens for... Potions? No that couldn't be right. Why would she even agree to that? Hermione reckoned that this bit of memory was false and she probably got the mentor for necromancy she wanted. There was a last memory of something shocking and something about Christmas. Something something, indeed. It all was a blur, except for the absolute fact in her head that she had to learn before Christmas and to keep her eyes out on that date.