Thanks to those of you that have read, reviewed, followed, and favorited so far! :3 Here's Chapter 2!

-xx-

During Halia's first couple days at Hogwarts, she was relieved to find that most of her classes appeared to be on the practical side rather than requiring a full hour of sitting around taking notes. There'd be plenty of reading and writing outside of class, apparently, and she was dismayed that she already had a few essay assignments on her plate.

The exceptions so far were Arithmancy on Monday afternoon and Tuesday morning's Ancient Runes, both which dragged on and on as her hand ached from trying to imitate the other students' furious notetaking. Sirius had predicted correctly that she would find it near-impossible to sit still in a classroom for a full hour, and her fidgeting earned her a few annoyed glances from Hermione in Arithmancy. But the Gryffindor must have taken some pity on Halia as well, because afterward, Hermione offered to share her notes. Halia was thankful, but also pretty certain she'd end up dropping both of those courses.

She enjoyed Transfigurations, Charms, and Herbology, though, so she'd likely stick with those. She would probably continue going to Potions too, even if it was more out of spite for the Potions Master that so clearly despised her than anything else. Her first class with him made it very clear that they wouldn't be getting along.

It began with a brief introduction of what they would cover during that year's term and shortly after, the class set to work brewing a potion meant to enhance one's focus and attention (which she really could have used an hour before, in Arithmancy). The professor strode imposingly around the room as they worked, critiquing her classmates' work. But he seemed to be purposefully avoiding the bench she shared with Daphne – she wasn't sure he'd even so much as glanced in her direction.

It was a little surprising; he was her Head of House, after all, and hadn't said a word to her since her arrival at Hogwarts. Clearly he loathed Sirius, and probably for good reason. She could tell from the way Remus cringed every time Sirius told her a story that he was embarrassed by the way Sirius had acted – that he probably crossed some lines in their years at Hogwarts. But surely her dad didn't play a part in that, even if he was so close to Sirius. She'd never seen him be unkind to anyone. It seemed like her dad, and her by extension, were guilty by association. And that seemed a little unfair.

On the other hand, maybe he was just avoiding her because he suspected Sirius had talked to her about the past and felt uncomfortable about how much she knew. Her mum probably would have told her to give him a chance; she always thought everyone was worth at least one. Feeling inspired, Halia raised her hand and watched as he glanced over at her and turned his back toward her, pretending that he hadn't seen.

Stubbornly, she kept her hand raised and beamed when she heard Hermione say a few benches over, "Professor, I think Halia has a question."

No longer able to ignore her, he appeared in front of her cauldron, tall and daunting. "Yes, Miss Potter?" His eyes narrowed in apparent suspicion and he said her name as though it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Halia managed to maintain her confidence and asked in her sweetest tone, "Hello, Professor – I was just wondering if you there was a preferred method of stirring for this potion. I thought a figure-eight might work, but now I'm not so sure…" She knew she was correct, but perhaps showing that she respected his opinion would help matters.

He glared at her so intensely that she almost looked away. Thankfully, he turned to Daphne before her resolve broke. "Greengrass, will you please inform Potter of the appropriate stirring pattern?"

"A circular swirl," Daphne said quietly. So quietly, Halia realized, that she probably wouldn't have heard her if the rest of the class hadn't stopped to listen.

"Of course. As we all know, that is the only correct method for potions that have effects on the mind," he turned his attention back to Halia. "Now, Miss Potter…Headmaster Dumbledore did warn the staff that you may not be ready for some aspects of the sixth year curriculum. If you have questions around such elementary concepts, you might find my third year class more suitable," he added in a sneering tone.

She was momentarily stunned and felt herself blush deep red as she heard snickers from the back of the class where Pansy and Draco sat. Snape, on the other hand, looked rather satisfied – the git.

"Just because you taught everyone to do it your way doesn't mean it's the only way that is correct," Halia snapped indignantly. The words escaped her mouth before she had a chance to think twice, but she was too angry to care at the moment.

If the classroom had quieted before to observe the scene, it was utterly silent now. The Professor peered down his crooked nose at her furiously. "Detention, Potter. Every evening this week."

"What?"

"I apologize, are you confused once more? Shall Miss Greengrass explain this to you as well?"

A slew of insults to throw at him raced through her mind, but she managed (just barely) to hold her tongue. It seemed very possible that a week's detention could easily turn into two weeks with someone as cold and unfair as him. "My mum taught me the figure-eight method," she replied instead. "She was brilliant at potions."

He stared at her for a moment with an odd expression she couldn't quite place. "Well," he replied crisply, "Then she was wrong. Your potion is burning," Snape turned away, just as the smell of singed eucalyptus began wafting up to her.

Needless to say, her first Potions class hadn't gone well, and she was already dreading Wednesday's double session. She'd served one of her five days of detention on Monday evening, which involved cleaning dozens of cauldrons by hand despite several spells that could have cleaned them magically within a few seconds. Of course, Snape forbid her from using any of those. Four evenings to go.

The chance she'd given him far behind her, she decided resolutely that she hated him and spent most of their lunch break the following day complaining with Ron. Hermione had planned to join them, but elected at the last moment to spend some of the free time in the Hogwarts library.

"He's usually a git," the redhead acknowledged, "But I've never seen him do that before."

Halia shrugged and rolled her eyes. "He was probably jealous of my mum. My dad always said she was the best at Potions in their class."

"You might be the first Slytherin he's ever given detention to." Halia made a face, and he added, "Sorry about the whole Sorting thing, by the way…you know you can always come hang out in Gryffindor anytime."

"I'm sure I'll take you up on that," she gave him a small smile and bit into a fresh-baked roll. One perk of being at Hogwarts was definitely the food, and she was already planning to snag some to bring to Sirius' for winter holiday break. "I still can't believe that idiotic hat put me there just to punish me for accidentally insulting it."

"Blimey," Ron shook his head in disbelief.

"It's not all bad though. Daphne's nice, and Zabini and Nott don't seem too bad when they aren't around Draco."

"Sure, I mean you're a girl." Halia gave him a look of slight disgust, but Ron was too busy helping himself to seconds to notice. "I'm not sure about Greengrass though…" he continued.

She glanced across the Great Hall, where the blonde chatted amicably with her younger sister. "What do you mean? She seems really sweet."

"Sweet as an acid pop, maybe," Ron muttered under his breath.

"Alright, well now you have to tell me."

He leaned closer, his voice hushed and solemn. "She's always been one of Parkinson's gang. Don't mention anything to Hermione, but last year they hexed her with a Bushy-Brow hex and called her, you know. The 'm' word."

Halia shook her head in disbelief, "There's no way Daphne would be part of that. She's not even friends with Pansy."

"Maybe not anymore," Ron shrugged. "But I was there…I saw them all laughing and running out of the fourth floor girls' lavatory and I found Hermione inside crying."

Halia wasn't sure what to say. She could barely picture Daphne doing such a thing, but she didn't think Ron would lie to her either. And it wasn't as though she knew Daphne that well – for all she knew, the girl could be pretending to be nice to her as part of some ploy for Pansy.

"Well. Fuck Slytherin."

"Fuck Slytherin," Ron agreed resolutely.

"Do you think Dumbledore would let me switch to Gryffindor?"

"Might be worth asking," Ron grinned, "But if you end up staying, you better not join their Quidditch team."

She laughed aloud. "I'd never play for them. I might show up to tryouts just to put Malfoy in his place – if Daddy hasn't already paid off the captain to make sure nobody challenges his spot..."

After lunch, they walked together to Defense Against the Dark Arts. She'd been looking forward to the class after all of Daphne's raving about the young professor's brilliance, and his attractiveness certainly didn't hurt matters. However, the fact that he seemed friendly with Snape did worry her slightly; hopefully the dreadful Potions Master hadn't turned him against her already.

Halia followed Ron to the side of the room where several other Gryffindors were already seated, careful not to glance in Daphne's direction. Given what Ron told her, it seemed best to try and avoid her until Halia knew more about her involvement with Pansy.

Instead she focused her attention on Professor Riddle, who looked even more attractive up close. He had a tall, slender frame, neat black hair was a shade or two darker than her own, and an angular face with a defined jaw and high cheekbones. He was even more beautiful than Zabini, who bragged that he almost didn't return to Hogwarts this year because of all the modeling he was doing.

"Good afternoon," Professor Riddle stood before the class once everyone filed in and found a seat. "As you are all well-aware, the primary goal for this class, from a Ministry educational standards perspective, is to prepare you for your N.E.W.T.s that you will take at the end of your seventh year. My personal goal, however, is to expose you to many forms and branches of Dark Magic that you've likely never even heard of…and of course, how to defend yourselves against them. What we will cover in this course will far exceed the minimum curriculum requirements; as such, you will have no issue passing your N.E.W.T.s. If you prove capable in keeping pace."

'Holy hell,' she thought when she heard his smooth, deep voice; even the way he carried himself – confident and graceful– was sexy. Halia was sitting almost at the edge of her chair, gazing up at him in pure fascination, when she realized he had spoken directly to her.

"Erm, what?" she responded automatically.

Professor Riddle smirked, but not cruelly. "I want to welcome you to my class, Miss Potter," he said for apparently the second time.

"Oh – uh, yeah thank you. You too," she blurted out in response.

Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods…she was such an idiot. 'You too'?! It didn't even make sense. Mortified once more in front of her classmates, she heard Pansy snort a laugh from a few desks away. But unlike Snape, at least Riddle just changed the subject.

"Now then. You may have noticed that most your summer readings pertained to curses that result in severely debilitating effects on its victim such as deafness, blindness, and hypersensitivity to pain. These consequences are often permanent unless the assistance of an exceptionally-skilled Healer is immediately sought. Can anyone tell me how long this window of time is, on average?"

To her left, Hermione's hand shot into the air.

"Miss Granger?"

"Three minutes," she said proudly.

"Very good," he nodded once. "Today we're going to practice blocking various curses that are similar but slightly less debilitating."

Slightly? What did that mean?

But Professor Riddle did not elaborate further and instructed them to pair up.

Lavender Brown, the Gryffindor girl Halia met briefly on the train a couple of days prior, instantly swiveled around and asked Ron to be her partner. He agreed, and Halia glanced at Hermione, who wore a slightly annoyed expression. "Want to pair up?" Halia asked her.

"Sure," Hermione responded shortly. It wasn't clear if this was because she and Ron were normally paired up (at least this is what Halia assumed), or if it was because she thought Halia was someone likely to cause trouble as evidenced by the previous day's Potions class. Hermione did seem like the type to avoid trouble.

Riddle clapped his hands once to magically move their desks out of the way and demonstrated the various options for curses and each corresponding blocking spell. The pairs of students was to rotate roles: one partner would choose a curse to cast at random, and the other would have to recognize and block it. Hermione quickly elected not to block first and they took their places in the two lines of students facing each other.

Halia missed the first two curses, narrowly jumping out of the way to physically avoid them. But with the third, she began to catch her stride. She realized she'd learned some of the curse/block pairs before, though she couldn't quite place when.

Professor Riddle wandered among them, offering suggestions and corrections to form. She could almost feel him approach her, which was incredibly distracting. But she still managed to block the latest curse that Hermione fired at her.

"Nice work, Miss Potter. Your blocking spell absorbed the curse's energy as it should," he gestured to some of the other pairs in the class, where curses ricocheted in wild colors off of the blocks. "If you were dueling– or fighting– you could learn to use it for a stronger counter-attack."

"Thanks," she replied casually, pretending she hadn't made a complete fool of herself in front of him earlier in the hour.

"Let's see how well you curse, then."

She and Hermione switched roles and Hermione was more consistent, but her blocking wasn't quite as strong as Halia's had been and didn't seem to absorb her curses. It was the first time in any of her classes so far that Halia actually felt that she was truly good at something and wanted to keep going by the time they reached the end of the session.

"Thanks for being partners," Hermione smiled at her as they packed up their things; apparently whatever hesitation she had toward Halia at the beginning of class had been resolved.

"You too," Halia grinned back and began to follow her out of the classroom, but stopped when she heard Professor Riddle call after her.

"Miss Potter, may I have a word if you have a moment?"

When Halia turned back, Daphne caught her eye and winked at her.

'Tell me later,' she mouthed and Halia forced a smile back.

Ugh. For a while, Halia had forgotten what Ron told her during lunch. But she could deal with that later.

"Let's speak in my office," he suggested, leading her into the adjoining room. Inside, bookshelves covered almost every inch of wall space from floor to ceiling. The room was dimly lit by an intricate candelabra hanging above them and in the center of the room was a large desk made of a dark wood she didn't recognize.

Professor Riddle seated himself behind it and when she noticed the surface was meticulously clear of clutter, a brief image of snogging him on it ran through her mind. Horrified, she quickly brushed it away, remembering what Daphne had said about him reading minds.

It didn't seemed surprising that those rumors existed. He looked up at her through eyes almost as dark as his hair, a careful, analyzing gaze that made her feel completely transparent. "You've come to Hogwarts in a rather unique situation, Miss Potter."

"Yes," she responded, though he hadn't exactly asked her anything. She wondered how much of her 'unique situation' he actually knew about. Regulus had warned her to be cautious with how much she said, and that she shouldn't go around telling people that her parents hadn't exactly 'home-taught' her the way most would assume.

"As a result, the Headmaster has requested my assistance to provide you additional training to ensure that you are well-equipped to defend yourself. You'll be safe at Hogwarts, of course. But he thought it would be wise to prepare you for times when you might be unprotected by others."

She opened her mouth to protest that she didn't need anyone's protection, but she thought better of it. Regulus had also warned her that the less stable of those that were curious of how close she'd been with the Department might see her as an easy target. Not that she really had anything left to reveal anyway…

"I was thinking a weekly session, perhaps Thursday evenings?"

Despite the fact that she probably wouldn't need it, she wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to spend more time around the school's most alluring professor – especially time alone…

"Sounds good to me," she replied in a tone she hoped sounded casual. "But this Thursday I have detention with Professor Snape."

He cast her a look of slight amusement. "I heard. I will inform Professor Snape that you'll be spending your detention on that evening with me instead."

'I wouldn't mind a detention or two with him,' she remembered telling Daphne just two nights prior at the Great Feast, and hoped to any divine beings that he didn't actually know what she said.

"Cool," she said lamely. "Well, uh, I'll see you Thursday then?"

"Yes," he flashed a smile full of straight white teeth at her. "See you then."

Damn. She didn't even know it was possible for someone to be as charming as he was. It was probably what someone like Draco strove for, but would never succeed in coming off as anything but pompous and greasy.

She had hoped that Hogwarts would provide a distraction for her – and now, she was pretty sure she found it.

-xx-

It was a quiet evening at the Leaky Cauldron. Not unsurprising - it was the middle of the week, after all. But it felt even emptier with just the two of them instead of the rowdy group of four they'd been for so long.

At least he still had Remus – the last of his true brothers. At least they could still catch up over a few drinks.

Okay. Maybe more than a few.

He raised a hand to the bartender and signaled for another round. Remus looked hesitant for a moment, probably worried about returning home to Tonks in his current state, but didn't protest. She'd probably just find it entertaining and laugh it off anyway. She was good for Remus in that way: she knew how to lighten things up when he inevitably grew heavy and existential.

"So. How's the new job?" Sirius asked as their empty beer mugs were exchanged for full ones.

"Rubbish," Remus sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. "But better than no job."

Actually, it was a bit of a marvel that his friend wasn't more bitter to the world than he already was, given how he'd been treated for a condition he couldn't even help. It was almost laughable, in a sort of sickeningly depressing way, that the most studious of the four of them hadn't been able to maintain stable employment for the majority of their adult lives. And his new position, a shop hand at Borgin and Burke's, seemed a bit like a new low.

At least he had Tonks, though Sirius knew how much self-loathing Remus dealt with over feeling he wasn't contributing his equal share to their stability. This, and his fear of passing along his condition to their potential children, were probably the only reasons the two of them weren't married with mini-Lupins running around.

He even had a chance at a small fortune before - James left Remus and Sirius a considerable chunk of the Potter family wealth, but they both felt wrong taking anything that could go to Halia instead. Remus certainly could have used it, though.

"How's WWN?"

"Glenda's still…Glenda," Sirius shrugged with a slight smile, and leaned back in his chair. His prima donna of a co-host was easily annoyed and getting a rise out of her was one of his greatest pastimes at work. Though truth be told, they were actually in the middle of a truce that began in the summer; when James and Lily were at the center of the news cycle, she seemed to take pity on him and made sure he didn't have to read a single line about them on air.

He wished she'd take on the full news brief altogether; he didn't give a shit about most of it. When he applied at Wizarding Wireless Network all those years ago, he was really only interested in hosting the music segment.

"It's surreal sometimes, how things just keep moving forward," Remus said abruptly. "You'd think that everything, even day to day life, would be completely different with all of them gone…Starting with Peter –"

"With Peter it was different," Sirius' hand tightened around his glass. "This wasn't supposed to happen – not to Lily and James."

Remus gaped at him with a horrified expression and Sirius winced guiltily. "I just meant…come on, Moony, you know what I meant...Peter was off. He had been threatening to do it for months. We sort of expected it, didn't we?"

"Well," His friend took a long drink, "We probably could have helped him more than we did."

"Maybe."

There was a long silence. "What do you really think happened to them?" Sirius asked, finally drunk and bold enough to voice the question that had swirled around in his head for weeks.

"I couldn't even begin to speculate. The only people who could are Unspeakables."

"Regulus," Sirius noted bitterly.

"Has Halia talked about it?"

Sirius shook his head. "I don't think she knows any more than we do. James and Lily would never take her to the Department. It sounds way too dangerous for a kid. I don't know what they were thinking, why they even wanted to join. They could have been – I don't know, Aurors, or something."

"Also dangerous," Remus pointed out.

Sirius grunted noncommittally. If he was being honest with himself, he was a little bitter about their decision to join the Department, and about the wall that their inability to be transparent placed between and James and him.

Still…he did feel guilty for not talking about their deaths to Halia at all over the summer, even though he'd been clueless about whether she wanted to or not. She acted so inexplicably normal around him, after all. She always seemed to adapt quickly and take things in stride – and typically wasn't afraid to ask for something she needed or wanted. So in large part, Sirius trusted her avoidance of the topic.

Of course, he could have tried bringing it up regardless, but he was too afraid – for his own sake as much as hers. While she stayed with him over the summer, he had come to realize that he'd probably be a pretty rubbish parent.

"Have you written her yet?" Remus changed the subject.

"No…I wanted to wait until she finished her first week and settled in a bit more. You?"

Remus shook his head, "I haven't. I didn't know what to say about the whole Slytherin bit. I'm sure she's devastated."

"She'll adjust," Sirius told him with a smile meant to reassure himself and Remus at the same time. "Or, if I know Halia, she's probably already asked to switch to Gryffindor."

-xx-

"Well, he said no," Halia hurled herself despairingly onto a plush red couch in the Gryffindor common room. Over the past day or so, this particular couch had been claimed as her 'spot' and she spent most of her free time outside of class lounging there. Lounging in the Gryffindor common room was where she belonged, after all.

And she'd been avoiding Slytherin like the plague after what Ron told her about Daphne.

When Halia arrived, Hermione was curled up in an armchair with her nose stuffed in a textbook and Ron was in the middle of bantering with Seamus and Dean about Quidditch team rankings.

"Oh. You actually asked?" Hermione looked up at her in genuine surprise, her tone slightly tinged with condescension.

"I figured it wouldn't hurt," Halia said defensively – though she did feel a bit idiotic for bothering the Headmaster with the request.

"I've never heard of anyone switching houses," Dean chipped in unnecessarily and when Halia narrowed her eyes at him, quickly added, "But it would have been cool if they made an exception for you."

At the very least, Dumbledore was nice about it and seemed to like her. When she arrived in his cavernous office, he greeted her warmly and offered her a lemon drop from a large crystal bowl on his desk while the eyes of the many portraits lining the walls looked down upon her curiously. She'd only met Headmaster Dumbledore a few brief times while visiting Hogwarts with her parents for Quidditch matches, though she didn't feel particularly nervous about the prospect of speaking with him. He exuded a surprisingly approachable demeanor despite his legend and prominence. And his quirkiness probably helped a bit.

"I was hoping we might speak soon, Halia, and here we are," he smiled kindly at her. "May I ask how you are finding Hogwarts so far?"

"Oh, it's been really great," She grinned in return. "I'm glad I can experience all of the things my parents would tell me about...well, most of them."

Dumbledore gave her a gentle, knowing expression as though he predicted this was the reason for her visit. "Are you referring to their experience as Gryffindors?"

Halia nodded slowly. "I think there was a mistake during my Sorting, Sir. Well, maybe not a mistake – I think the Sorting Hat might have put me in Slytherin to spite me. Or something."

"To spite you?" Dumbledore's light blue eyes looked at her curiously over his glasses.

"I mean, I was accidentally thinking about how old it was and whatnot while I was being Sorted…I think it got insulted," she flushed a bit as a few of the paintings on the wall chuckled softly at her.

"The Hat isn't human, Halia, as human as it may sound. I can assure you that it placed you in Slytherin for a valid reason," Dumbledore looked at her in playful amusement, the skin around his eyes crinkling. "Though I am sorry to hear its decision has been distressing you so."

"I wouldn't say I'm distressed over it," she struggled to find words that wouldn't make her sound more immature than she likely already did, "It's just…nobody in my family was in Slytherin. I'm not sure how I'm different from them."

"Sorting doesn't always follow bloodlines, Halia. And my dear – learning how and why is the fun of it all. That's for you to discover during your time here, and I do have faith that you will."

That didn't sound very fun to her. But she wasn't about to ask for Dumbledore's thoughts on what the Hat meant by a 'darkness' within her, because that sounded...not great. Clearly, she talked herself into a corner and he wasn't going to let her switch to Gryffindor.

So, regrettably, she would be Halia Potter of Slytherin House. Suddenly, she felt very nauseous.

"I suppose," she managed weakly.

Then they began discussing her classes; apparently, the Headmaster wondered if she would find them challenging enough, which was pretty much the opposite of her problem. But it seemed wise to put off bringing up her wishes to drop out of Arithmancy and Ancient Runes for at least a couple of weeks...she didn't want to come off as whiny, after all. Perhaps by some miracle, Hermione would get her up to speed by then.

"I'm very pleased to hear that you are adjusting to Hogwarts so quickly, Halia," he told her as their conversation drew to a close and he began leading her from his office, "I imagine that it must be difficult to think of the future given the number of changes you are faced with...But we do want to ensure you have the opportunity to take each N.E.W.T. level required for whatever career you choose. I would encourage you to give some thought as to what will come after your time at Hogwarts."

"I will," she nodded, while uncertain whether she actually would.

"I hope you feel welcome to stop by whenever you'd like to talk," the Headmaster said finally before wishing her a good evening.

Later, after Dean's comment about the lack of precedence for a student switching Houses, Halia sat up straight on the red sofa and announced confidently to the others, "Well, I might have to call myself a Slytherin. But maybe if I keep spending enough time with you lot, Dumbledore will realize this whole thing was a mistake and change his mind."

"You are a stubborn one, aren't you?" Hermione shook her head, but a small smile tilted up the corners of her small mouth. It quickly turned into a grimace when Seamus offered Halia a puff from the gillyweed blunt they were passing amongst them and Halia accepted.

Feeling instantly much lighter and a little giddy, Halia snatched the textbook from Hermione's hands. "Dumbledore asked me to think about what I want to do after Hogwarts...and I need some ideas. So tell me, Queen of N.E.W.T.-levels, what are your big plans after graduation? Being the youngest Minister of Magic?"

"Not Minister, no," Hermione tilted her chin up. "I do believe I would enjoy working at the Ministry. Perhaps the Department of Magical Law Enforcement – not as an Auror, though. I'd rather work on policy."

Ron groaned. "Oh great, you'll be as insufferable as Percy was when he started as Undersecretary for the Wizengamot."

"At least my plans are realistic," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Unlike aiming to be a professional Quidditch player."

"Oi!" Ron exclaimed and Halia, Dean, and Seamus snickered. "That's realistic – it could happen."

"Well," Hermione smirked, "Statistically speaking -"

"There you are, Ron! I've been looking all over for you," Lavender Brown abruptly burst into the common room with Parvati and Fay in tow. "We were going to compare notes from Charms, remember?

Amused, Halia raised an eyebrow and looked at her flame-haired friend, who suddenly scrambled to his feet. "Shit...I'm sorry, Lavender. I totally forgot."

"Oh, no problem at all," she replied, though her forced tone and difficult-to-miss glance in Hermione's direction confirmed that it apparently was a problem.

"Want to come too, Dean?" Fay asked quietly.

Dean shrugged and followed suit as Ron grabbed his books and followed the girls out of the common room, telling Halia and the remaining Gryffindors that he'd see them later.

"Well," Seamus untangled his crossed legs and stood from the floor to stretch, "I'll give it two weeks before they're snogging on the regular...Wish I had a girl chasing me like that."

Halia rolled her eyes and took one last hit of gillyweed from him before he strode up the stairs to the boys' dormitories.

Meanwhile, Hermione had buried herself in her textbook once more, gripping the cover so tightly her fingertips were white.

"Oh my gods," Halia blurted out suddenly, "You like Ron."

Hermione's head snapped up. "What? I do not."

Halia laughed out loud – she couldn't help herself. "Uh yeah, you do. Look at you, you're tense as hell!"

"That's ridiculous. Clearly you're too high to be thinking straight," Hermione replied snobbily.

"You know, gillyweed is great when you're tense. Anyway, you can deny it, but now I know the truth," she grinned widely. "Don't worry, I won't tell Ron."

"There's nothing to tell!" she snapped in a shrill voice.

All Halia could do was laugh. It was the giddiest she felt in weeks - no, months.

Hermione's face eventually softened and she laughed a little too, before growing gravely serious. In a quiet voice, she said, "If you tell anyone, Halia, I will –"

"Don't worry, Granger," she stretched out on the sofa and closed her eyes, suddenly very drowsy, "I can keep a secret."

-xx-

Tom let out a sigh as he finished grading yet another third year's essay and leaned back from his desk to inspect his work. The parchment was now littered with fine lines of red ink and comments, and he concluded at the top: 'You may find that it is useful to read the textbooks that essay assignments are based upon rather than guessing their content.'

The lack of discipline in some of the students was truly infuriating. He'd given the third year class a single assignment over the summer holiday and, clearly, even that was too much to ask. What a disgrace. He would be sure to pair up the slackers with the best duelists in the class during their next session and take great care to be oblivious if things began to go awry...

Lost in thought of how else to punish those who were so blatantly disrespectful, he completely forgot about his plans to meet with Halia Potter that evening until she arrived at his office door.

"Yes, come in Miss Potter," he waved her in and shut the door behind her with a second wave of his hand, while neatly piling the graded papers on the corner of his desk.

She approached one of the empty chairs across from him and dropped herself in it. Her movements had little grace or poise, and her appearance seemed slightly messy somehow. Or perhaps 'unpretentious' was a better way to describe it. Her long dark hair was piled on top of her head and she wore no makeup over her pale face, as far as he could tell. There was something familiar about her as well, though that was easily explained by the fact that he had seen her picture in nearly every newspaper over the summer.

She looked thinner than in the papers, bordering on unhealthy. The Hogwarts kitchen elves would certainly see to it that this was corrected - they doted on him constantly during his first year, ensuring that his nutritional deficiencies from the orphanage were alleviated.

"I was thinking we might begin by dueling," Tom began before she could initiate any small talk or pleasantries.

She looked surprised and a bit hesitant at the suggestion. "Weren't you like…a professional duelist before Hogwarts?"

"I'll go easy on you," he smirked slightly. "It will be the easiest way for me to gauge your current skill level." He already had some idea of this, of course, from the sixth years' first class with him on Tuesday and their second earlier that day. But it would be useful to understand more about her instincts with magic; and, now that it was just the two of them rather than the chaotic classroom with everyone practicing at once, he would be able to focus and better perceive her magical essence.

They faced each other and she awkwardly raised her wand as he began to count down. "Three...two...one -"

He certainly didn't utilize his full power, but he didn't go particularly 'easy' on her either. The entire exercise was meant to challenge and push her so he could see her true potential, after all.

After firing a quick and brief succession of offensive spells toward her, all of which she was able to block or narrowly avoid, she seemed to adjust to his pace and managed to send a stunning spell in his direction. Tom blocked it easily, allowing the invisible, but perceptible particles of her magical essence to disperse around him. It was an incredibly useful ability, a result of his dabbling into the Dark Arts, which allowed him to determine one's magical strengths and weaknesses. He was obviously a talented duelist already, but it made him essentially unstoppable during competition.

As he turned over Halia's magical essence in his mind, it tasted similar to the way dark red looked...but slightly muted in a way he found odd. It hinted at perseverance, strength, and resourcefulness, and he was already guessing at which spells she might try next given what he sensed.

She defended a few additional strikes he hurled at her and sent back a simple disarming spell. The impression left by her essence was stronger this time, and he was able to gather a fuller picture of it. This time, he was caught off guard by a new aspect - something about it that he couldn't quite place but should be able to, like a long-forgotten scent from childhood. A deep memory just out of reach.

At first he thought it might be a fluke, but that same feeling kept coming back again and again as they dueled. He couldn't stop noticing it after he initially perceived it.

She was doubled over and panting by the time they stopped. "I thought you were going to go easy on me," she complained.

Tom, on the other hand, could have comfortably kept up their duel for the better part of the evening. But he was somewhat impressed by the potential he found in her- albeit puzzling in some respects -and impressing him wasn't the easiest thing to do.

"Your parents taught you well," he commented as she caught her breath and walked toward him.

"Yeah…" she looked confused for a moment, which was odd. "Thanks."

"I do have some thoughts around what we will work on...but perhaps you are too exhausted this evening to continue."

"I'm not that tired," she replied in a defensive tone that he found greatly amusing.

"Now Miss Potter, what sort of professor would I be if I allowed you to overtax yourself during your first week at Hogwarts?"

"I'm not overtaxed, I –" She continued to argue out of injured pride as he dismissed her from his office.

Odd that she'd been chosen for Slytherin. Just like her parents, she was really such a Gryffindor.

-xx-

"Potter," she heard a familiar hiss behind her just as she was about to reach the Slytherin common room.

"Yes, Draco?" she sighed and slowly turned to look at him. The dungeon's candlelight flickered off of his Prefect badge and he smirked at her arrogantly.

"About to break curfew again, I see."

Halia crossed her arms over her chest. "Yeah, I mean if you don't hurry this up I probably will be breaking curfew."

Draco glared at her, "I'm sure Snape would be interested in knowing, regardless."

"I walked straight here from Professor Riddle's office," she scoffed in disbelief and turned toward the common room, "Ask him if you're so goddamn worried about where I've been."

He caught her by the arm, spinning her around once more. "And how about last night?" he asked threateningly.

Damn. Pansy must have tattled to him that she didn't spend the night in their dormitory…

She would need to be more cautious next time she took gillyweed from Seamus – that shit was strong.

"How many weeks of cauldron scrubbing do you think you'd earn for that? Two weeks?" Draco looked at her triumphantly. Her hands, raw from the current week's detention, hurt just thinking about it. "What a shame, I guess you won't have any time to practice for Quidditch tryouts after all…"

So apparently he heard that she signed up that morning to challenge his position as Slytherin's Seeker – or, more accurately, to make a fool of him and then proceed to 'generously' offer him his spot back. "Ohhhh! I see...you're trying to threaten me so I don't make you look bad in front of your friends," Halia beamed at him. "That's precious, Draco. Really precious."

"No," he said coolly, his grip tightening slightly around her arm. "I just want you to understand how difficult things will be for you if you choose to be my enemy."

"I have enough friends, Draco. But thanks for the offer," Halia snorted and wrenched her arm out of his grasp. "And if Snape gives me detention every day until tryouts, so be it. I don't need any practice to beat you."

He opened his mouth to retort, but she swiftly entered the common room before allowing him the satisfaction of the last word. It was so hard to take him seriously sometimes. It was hard to remember that they'd actually gotten along quite well as children.

Her parents had been close with Minister Fudge through work, and Fudge was also close with the Malfoys through their extensive donations to his campaign. There were frequent, intimate dinner parties hosted by Minister Fudge and his wife that the Potter, Malfoy, Crouch, and a couple of other families were regularly invited to. Draco and Halia were usually the only children in attendance, with the occasional appearance of Barty Crouch Jr., who was quite a bit older than them and pretty weird. Her dad even made a point to tell her to stay away from him.

Halia learned later that her parents didn't care much for the Malfoys either, but had been clueless at the time. She didn't interact with them much – Lucius largely ignored her like he ignored Draco. Narcissa was sometimes kind to her, but always seemed a little disturbed that Halia didn't seem fascinated by things like jewelry or stylish clothing.

While the adults talked about boring things and ate opulent, sophisticated food that Halia rarely enjoyed, she and Draco would explore the Minister's large mansion or fly around the grounds playing mock Quidditch matches.

Their friendship solidified when, during a special party around Christmastime, they were experimenting with their magical abilities and Draco accidentally broke a small statue that was a gift to Fudge from the Minister of France. Halia took the blame, only because she'd seen how harsh Lucius was to Draco sometimes and she was afraid for him. Draco warmed to her quite a bit after that, and would often bring her extra toys or presents that his parents got him and he didn't want, or already had one of. Eventually, she started to see him as a brother of sorts, as they were both only children and she knew so few others her own age.

Everything changed when he started at Hogwarts and presumably felt the pressure to make a name for himself– or live up to his existing one– for the first time. They became distant as he bragged about Hogwarts and his new friends, while his arrogance and ego grew like an undying weed. She could never quite bring herself to hate him, though. She knew the boy she'd been so fond of was buried somewhere deep down underneath all of his irritating attributes.

Halia made her way up to her dormitory, relieved to find Daphne already asleep. She knew she would have to confront her eventually, but avoidance seemed to be working for the time being…

She curled up in bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin. Thinking of the past with Draco reminded her of what Professor Riddle said to her earlier that evening: "Your parents taught you well."

She felt a surge of happiness at the compliment, hoping that he actually meant it. Dueling with him had been exhilarating, and she was certainly looking forward to her next session with him.

But his words kept cropping back up in her mind, eating at her as she drifted off to sleep.

"Your parents taught you well."

Did they?

That night she dreamt of Regulus in the Department, but not in the cold white room that sent shivers of dread down her spine at the thought. They were in a room as big as the Great Hall, with a long stage in the center. And on the platform she and Regulus danced on opposite ends, their wands sending mesmerizing, swirling waves of red, green, gold, blue, and black toward the other.

-xx-