"Now, son, what do you have to report?"

It was the fifth time this week he'd used the enchanted crystal ball to reach me. He kept on pressing me for answers, almost like he knew I knew something else. Something I wasn't letting on. I sighed, ensuring the royal blue curtains around my four-poster were drawn as I turned to face the ball, my father's face visible in the clouds contained within it. It was clever, really, the incantation he'd put on them, linking them to each other and allowing for communication through all barriers.

A lot better than that Vanishing Cabinet rubbish the Malfoys had pitched, but there was hope for that as well yet, considering the Dark Lord's infatuation with Dumbledore and his ultimate killing. Next year, he'd told Mr Malfoy in that serpentine voice of his, Nagini by his side.

"Well?" my father demanded, looking quite irritated.

"No new developments. I've got my eye on the Weasley girl just like you asked."

"Good. Now keep an eye on all her brothers too. I want to know where they are and what they're doing at all times outside of class. It could give us some clues as to what that little Potter brat is planning."

"Yes, Father."

"And might I add, son, that the Patil kid's reported a lot more to us?"

"I'm sorry. I'll contact you if I see something."

"You must contact me. Our family's reputation is at stake. If you don't prove yourself to the Dark Lord, Lucius Malfoy might as well be handing his son a guaranteed position as a trusted member of the inner circle. We are a family of nobility, Gemini, and we belong in that inner circle. Now, you're a smart boy. I don't have to explain that to y-"

Covering the ball with my blanket, I sighed, opening up the textbook resting on the nightstand, flipping to the 'Notes' section. My quill made contact with the page and the words began to come pouring out, my father's muffled shouting barely audible.

Today was another horrible day. Once again, my father contacted me, vis-a-vis the crystal ball, to demand answers. I'm sick and tired of listening to the bastard's voice, all that talk about the family name-

My heart sped up as the familiar scraggly, black font began to appear and a message slowly formed.

Slow down! What did he want to know?

Pressing my quill to the page, I began to write, the ball finally having gone silent.

Same old questions.

A reply came back within seconds, messily written as always.

In spite of myself, I laughed silently, writing back.

Well, what can I say? I'm a person of mystery.

Glad I made you laugh.

Well, we'll talk soon. Sleep well, 'person of mystery.'

You too, other person of mystery.

Grinning, I closed the book. I silently praised myself on my genius with it-a book bound to only one other book in the world, the last remaining copy of a required textbook-the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5-at Flourish and Blotts, enchanted for instant communication, just like the crystal ball, except through written exchange. It was, of course,somebody in my year writing to me, which was why I kept it so vague. It was selfish of me, unloading my problems upon an unsuspecting classmate, but I had nobody else willing to truly listen.

If anything, it was creative thinking-if they wanted to listen, they would, and if they didn't, they would either flush the book down the toilet or turn it in to McGonagall, in which case I would promptly destroy my own copy.

Closing my eyes, I went to sleep, my dreams filled with my father's disapproval, messy black script, and, oddly, the face of Harry Potter.

.....

"Hey, 'Mione, what'd you get?" I asked, smirking. I was sure I had her this time.

"Well... 95%."

I tutted, trying to contain my glee. "Your grades are slipping-I got 98%."

Hermione groaned in frustration, slumping down in her chair. "Damned hedgehog..."

"You lot are really strange, you know that?" Ron commented, Harry sitting right next to him.

"Well, I'm your friend's cousin, so we can't be too different, Weasley."

Ron wrinkled his nose, obviously unhappy with my use of his last name, when an all-too-familiar laugh echoed through the Transfiguration hall.

Rosier and Shacklebolt were at it again.

"Hey, Professor, this is a nice desk," Libra called, smirking.

McGonagall frowned, looking incredibly confused. "I hope you give us extra credit for this one!" Sagittarius added. Libra leveled her wand with the table. "REDUCIO MAXIMA!"

The table shrunk to the size of a fingernail, Libra and Sagittarius' papers shrinking with it, as McGonagall let out what almost sounded like a low growl. "Ten points from Gryffindor! This lunacy of yours needs to stop-so close to your OWLs too-"

"Just ten? You're going soft, Professor."

"Miss Rosier, you are in no place to talk! You've been trouble since the day you managed to stow away to Hogwarts-"

"I don't think Flitwick would agree."

"And why would that be?"

"Well, I just perfected Reducio Maxima. Extra credit, isn't it?"

Hermione's head sunk into her hands, as did mine. Libra Rosier getting extra credit and potentially beating us out? That idea didn't thrill me.

McGonagall sighed, taking her position at the front of the room. "Your next lesson is Defence Against the Dark arts with Umbridge. It is your first lesson with her, so please be respectful. You are dismissed."

"Thank you Professor!" Sagittarius called. "Here's a present to express my gratitude."

He threw a Dungbomb as he left, McGonagall's enraged yells audible as she scrambled to catch up to Sagittarius. "Shacklebolt! Ten points-where is he?"

"Loophole, professor!" he called. "You can't see me, you can't deduct points!"

McGonagall grimaced, turning and going back to her room as Sagittarius and Libra emerged from behind a statue. "You-you dimwits!" Hermione cried, looking exasperated.

"What's wrong, Granger?" Libra asked, throwing an arm around Hermione's neck. "Crookshanks got your tongue?"

"The saying is-"

"I know the saying, it's just funnier that way."

Harry cleared his throat and we all turned to face him, watching as he gestured toward the Defence Against the Dark Arts room. "Well, let's go inside," I said, holding the door open for everyone else. Sagittarius and Libra made their presence known the moment they walked in, flopping down onto tables at the very back of the room. It was remarkable, really, how comfortable they were around each other, considering their past with one another. They were together, and then they broke up, and then it was complicated, but now, everything was normal. Like nothing had ever happened.

As always, laughter filled the classroom. Only Draco Malfoy and his minions, or goons, or 'friends', sat in disgusted silence, Draco's brother watching the others with a half-smile on his face. Cancer Malfoy, his name was. An immature, exceedingly charming player, picking up just about anyone with a thing for sharp-featured blondes. There was just something about those green eyes that made people melt. Of course, because of his habits, Cancer wasn't seen as much of a 'threat' or as someone who showed much promise, his brother's outright snobbishness making him the talk of the town instead.

At the end of the day, everyone agreed-Cancer was nothing like the other Slytherins.

Nothing like Draco.

Nothing like my girlfriend, Scorpio.

If you could even call her that.

A groan. Pink shoes.

I sat up in my seat, turning toward the front of classroom.

Umbridge was here.