AN: No MP today, I had no motivation at all, but still... long chapter for you either way, woosh. I have always wondered what my boggart would look like. I fear withering away without a family. I would love to some day form a family and leaving this world without achieving that is my greatest fear. I want to have cute kids to spoil and seeing them grow into great people.
What about you?
- Luce
Chapter 23 - Null
Lynne sat by the fire in the common room long after the others had gone to bed, the book on her lap still open, though her eyes no longer moved across the page. The flames flickered softly against the stone, throwing light across shelves of parchment stacked neatly beside her.
She turned another page without looking, her mind circling the image of the boggart and the shifting mass of shapes it had shown her.
'Why Thorne? Why would it take his form at all?' she thought.
She pressed her thumb against the edge of the paper until it bent. He had raised her, given her life and purpose. Fear was not what she associated with him. She told herself this again and again, yet the memory of his face appearing in that mix made her pulse tighten.
A soft step made her glance up. Harry was leaning against the back of the nearest chair, hair still messy from sleep, his expression half-curious and half-worried.
"I couldn't sleep." he said, lowering his voice out of habit.
"Something is bothering you then." she answered simply, closing the book but keeping her hand on its cover.
He studied her for a moment, then sat down across from her. The firelight caught his eyes, bright but restless. "You didn't look happy after the lesson today, either." he said. "I mean, none of us enjoyed it, but yours was a bit weird."
She kept her posture still, gaze fixed on the fire. "Yes, I suppose… The boggart did not know what it was meant to become, it shifted too many times."
Harry leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Is this because of the other you, Lyn? I recognized Thorne as well, and I know that didn't make you happy."
Of course he had recognized him, but she didn't know how he wanted her to answer, so she assumed he wanted to talk about his boggart instead.
"What about you, Harry? Do you want to speak about what you saw?"
He hesitated, then shook his head. "Not really. But I think you know already." His voice dropped further, quiet enough that it barely carried over the crackle of the fire.
"Yes, I do."
"I don't want to feel alone. I'm beginning to have so many friends and even family, I don't want them to leave me."
Lynne looked at him fully then, his face sharp with worry that did not belong on someone his age. Guilt threaded through her. He was afraid of losing her, meaning he valued their friendship highly, yet she was keeping a lot of secrets from him, she was sure she would lose his trust if he knew. She lowered her gaze again, unwilling to let the thought settle in her mind.
"It will be alright, Harry." she said at last, her voice steady but softer than before. "No matter what, you will have me around."
Harry gave a small smile, but it was quick, almost forced. "Good, leaving me alone to handle Luna and her group on my own would be criminal." he said, trying for lightness.
She chuckled softly. "They are not that bad. But yes, I won't."
When he left to return to the dormitory, she remained by the fire, but the guilt did not ease. She rose and moved toward her trunk, carrying the book with her. Secrets weighed on her like chains, and worse, she could not even speak of them to Harry. The curse burned faintly whenever she tried, a wall she could not cross.
She thought of the memories that had begun surfacing in recent weeks, memories that were slowly becoming hers.
As soon as she did though, a painful headache struck and more feelings and memories came to her. Her mind was trained to sort them out and she softly catalogued them to understand them.
She remembered their voices now. A family that spoke French, voices warm with affection, faces half-recognized as more colours flooded in. Each time they came she felt her balance slip. Thorne had said nothing of this all these years, but some implications were beginning to appear.
If she had a family once, they are gone now. Thorne having made the ritual, meant that the girl who had gone inside Lynne's body was part of that family. Her master had attacked a Lestrange family in France and their allies for good measure.
It was clear then that the possibility of Thorne being the one who killed the girl was high. It made sense then that if the boggart could sense the other soul and her fears, it would be Thorne himself.
Inside the trunk she lit a small lamp and pulled out scrolls and books she had gathered from the Restricted Section, tomes on memory and Arithmancy charts for altering the mind and a few herbology books to investigate ingredients and their properties.
She wanted to develop a variation of the forgetfulness potion. The potion was not as useful as the spell so it was rarely used at all other than to test first years at Hogwarts. She meant to make it work with precision, erasing only what she chose, leaving the rest intact.
She set the book down and unrolled parchment covered in her own careful notes. The runes glimmered faintly in the lamplight, calculations charted across each margin. She first had to identify which memories felt foreign and how to attack the mind.
Lynne had first gone over how Veritaserum worked and its ingredients. As a potion that affects the mind, it was clear that she would be able to find the answers there.
As she worked, she didn't realize that she had begun humming a song. Strangely it kept her focused, kept her from thinking too much of the blurred faces that visited her in sleep. She dipped the quill again and drew another line, marking where the next rune should intersect the chart.
She was determined to find a way to erase those memories, but not her newfound feelings, otherwise her mission would be compromised. She briefly wondered why Thorne hadn't helped her with that in the first place. Surely an obliviation charm was a better alternative than her having to do all this work.
At the same time, obliviating the mind many times was very risky, and she didn't know how many of these memories she would gain. She would have to go to him after every episode which could destroy her mind after repeated use of the spell.
No. The potion was the clear answer to her problems.
The Wizarding Wireless crackled to life in homes and halls across Britain, a faint hum breaking through the usual static before settling into silence. When the voice came, it was low and measured, each word carried with deliberate precision, neither hurried nor uncertain.
"My name is Solan Thorne." the voice said. "I fought in the last war, when the darkness that cloaked this country sought to silence those who would not bend the knee. I survived, not because I was stronger than others, but because I was ruthless enough to fight them at their own game. I refused to bow to them. Many of my comrades did not make it. Their names are not remembered in your books, but their blood remains in the ground we walk on today."
The pause that followed was not empty but heavy, as if he allowed the weight of memory to linger before pressing on.
"You know the stories you were told of that war. That it ended when the Dark Lord was struck down. That the Ministry rose to protect you in your hour of need. But I was there, and I remember. The Death Eaters roamed free, terrorizing those they called unworthy, and most of the Ministry were too slow to act. Once I gathered the support of those willing to fight them hard enough, the Ministry left us to fend for ourselves. I have carried scars from that war not just on my body but within my soul. I buried friends in shallow graves. I watched children orphaned. And I remember the silence of the world that chose to look away."
In control rooms and offices across London, Ministry technicians and Aurors shouted over one another, wards flaring, desperate to sever the broadcast. But every attempt was met with static and failure.
The signal shifted frequencies before their charms could catch it, weaving like smoke through the magical network. Frustrated voices demanded explanations, but no one could answer how one man had taken hold of the Wizarding Wireless and bent it to his will.
"After I hid away, filled with grief for dear friends and family, what did the administration do? They buried my records, my accomplishments, my fight and those that supported me. I was not awarded anything, and most of the ministry bowed down again to those who had the money to repair what was left of magical Britain. The same ones who stood behind the evil that sparked the conflict in the first place. They were content with letting those who destroyed it in the first place continue living without consequences. They claimed that they were forced, no one believed that yet they still left them alone anyway."
Thorne's voice carried on, unbroken.
"Last week, a Muggle-born family was the target of a raid. Death Eaters wearing their old masks descended upon them, and for what reason? Because a mad vigilante seeking revenge struck against what they considered to be their kind. They answered by butchering innocents. Retaliation, they claimed. Retribution, they claimed. But vengeance upon the helpless is not justice, it is cowardice. The Ministry chose not to comment on this attack. Some lay blame on Sirius Black, as if one man, after spending twelve years in Azkaban, could potentially take control of pureblood families and turn them against the common folk so easily."
He did not raise his voice, yet the words were strong enough to have everyone's attention.
"I wasn't born into one of the famous sacred twenty-eight pureblood families, that alone taught me to know what it is like to be hunted for blood I did not choose. I know the terror of doors broken in the night, of cursed fire in the windows, and voices crying in desperation. I know what it is like to wake to silence and realize your family has been taken from you."
"I fought then, and I fight now, because I will not allow them to get away with it a second time. If the Ministry believes we will endure this again without taking their heads, they are wrong. If the cowards who wear the masks believe they can frighten us back into the shadows, they are wrong. And if the people of this country believe they may sit idly by while Muggle-born, Half-bloods or any families who oppose their vile views are destroyed one by one, they are wrong as well."
The broadcast faltered for a heartbeat, a warble of static as Ministry officials poured power into counter-charms, but the voice returned instantly, stronger than before, as though their struggle only emphasized their impotence.
"I will not stand by. I will not watch these crimes repeat themselves. I declare resistance against every Death Eater, former and current, who dare claim dominion over the lives of others. You are not safe. I won't stand alone either; many already are with me, ready to stand against them with merciless determination."
"I declare that their violence will be met in kind, that their cruelty will be answered, that their stains will be cleansed from this land. And I ask those who have suffered, those who have lost, those who have hidden in fear, to rise with me as well. Stand not as cowards behind locked doors, but as fighters who will no longer be denied justice."
"There will be no hiding for them. Not in their manors, not in their villages, not across the seas. Wherever they run, wherever they think themselves safe, they will be found. In the fields, in the alleys, in the grand halls they claim as their own, justice will reach them. They will know fear in every corner of the world, and they will know it until their cause is erased completely."
The silence that followed was long enough that some might have thought the broadcast had ended. Then his voice cut through once more, quieter now, as though speaking directly into the hearts of those who listened.
"I ask for no oaths of loyalty, only courage. Stand, and fight. For your children. For your homes. For the right to live without fear. War is here, and it will not wait for anyone. To the victims of the last war, know this: you are not forgotten. To the current administration: your silence and cowardice make you complicit. And to those who still hide behind masks and bloodlines, your time is finished. Whether you hide or not. Justice. Will. Find. You."
The hum returned, the signal cut, and the wireless fell silent once more, leaving only the frantic voices of Ministry officials and the echo of Thorne's words in kitchens, shops, and living rooms across the country.
Amelia Bones sat stiff-backed in her chair, the weight of the Wizengamot chamber pressing like a storm above her. The air was thick with voices raised too high, robed figures standing from their benches to shout over one another.
She dreaded the amount of time she would waste listening to the useless back-and-forth. Amelia believed that there was a time to play politics and a time to be decisive. This was the latter time, but no one could act decisively with the amount of bickering the minister was allowing to happen.
Indeed Minister Fudge was weak, he couldn't lead them into this new conflict, too concerned with his own image and listening to bad advisers. The decision to place dementors at Hogwarts was evidence enough.
On this topic, even his own advisers seemed unsure which position to take. Some called Thorne a terrorist; others insisted he was a necessary blade against a resurging darkness. Too many argued for nothing at all, content to condemn both sides with the same tired speeches and circular rhetoric.
She adjusted her robes, eyes sweeping the hall, and felt her jaw tighten. The broadcast still echoed in her ears, Thorne's voice carrying conviction that the Ministry could never match. They were going to lose people in the upcoming days, swayed by his speech.
He had always been like that. Even though there were not many who remembered the man, even fewer who wanted to, Thorne had always been blunt, resolute, and dangerous. He believed in what he said even when it was only half the truth.
That was what had made him a weapon during the last war. Combining his confidence with his ruthless methods and seemingly a talent in divination, he had made important contributions to the war effort. By the end of the war, the Ministry was not supportive of his decisions anymore, to save face, but he had a team willing to follow his command anyway.
Amelia feared that if he hadn't lost them in one of his worst gambles, they would have continued fighting even after the Dark Lord was defeated. Thorne had tried saving families everyone knew would be targeted, while also attacking the Lestrange allies. He had divided his forces too thin and failed on all sides.
If he was back, it meant that he already had a team together to fight, otherwise he wouldn't have made that speech at all and remained hidden. Amelia suspected that he may even be associated with the assassin that started this whole problem in the first place.
One wizengamot member, his purple robes quivering with outrage, slammed a fist on the rail.
"He should be arrested immediately! Tried for incitement! For treason! He is a killer, seeking retribution against honest wizards! It must not stand."
"Are Death Eaters honest wizards, now?" said an old voice.
Another, a thin witch with a voice as sharp as parchment tearing, shot back, "And what of the masked killers in Yorkshire? Would you have us leave them to hunt more families? Thorne is doing what this Ministry refuses to do! Fight back."
The chamber erupted again, the chorus of bickering bouncing off the stone walls. Amelia pinched the bridge of her nose. She really didn't want to be there another minute, but as director of the DMLE she had to be there anyway to guard the session and implement the decisions made.
She remembered him differently. Solan Thorne, the man who had stood in the ruins of battlefields while others recoiled, the man who had dragged the giants into extinction with cursed fire, the man who had nearly obliterated the Lestrange family forces in a single night.
She had fought alongside him, seen the ferocity that left even Death Eaters shaken, and she knew even then that if the Ministry ever turned on him, the bloodshed would be huge. Now, instead of preparing for what was coming, they argued like frightened children.
"Declare him an outlaw!" one side shouted. "Negotiate before it grows worse!" cried another. A third voice cut through, demanding they mobilize Aurors against both sides, as if splitting their forces would do anything but doom them all.
Amelia's patience finally snapped. She rose, her voice cutting through the din like a blade.
"Enough! Every moment wasted here is another step into a war we are unprepared for. Thorne will not stop because you pass resolutions. He will not hesitate because you do. You may debate until your throats are raw, but he has already chosen his course."
The hall quieted just slightly, enough for her words to reach the edges.
She lowered her voice, each word precise. "You may condemn him, or you may try to negotiate with him, but know this: Solan Thorne has already started this war. And if you believe he will stop at Death Eaters who were only part of this last attack, then you are fools."
Silence fell, sharper than any gavel. Some averted their eyes, others straightened defensively, but no one interrupted. Amelia gathered her papers, rose from her seat, and left the chamber with measured steps.
She would not wait for their decision. Aurors would be mustered; recruiting standards would have to be lowered, and contingencies would be prepared. The Wizengamot could argue until the ceiling cracked, but she would be ready to fight both sides if she had to.
The corridors of Hogwarts had quieted after dinner, with only the muted echoes of footsteps and muffled voices drifting through the stone like faint ghosts of the day. Lynne walked beside Harry; his pace was brisker than usual, his shoulders tense beneath his robe.
His hand kept twitching, and he constantly fidgeted with his tie to steady himself. She could feel the anxious pull of his thoughts without a word from him. As they turned a corner near the arched windows overlooking the dark lawns, he finally spoke, his words spilling out too fast.
"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice was sharp with fear. "About Thorne... About what he was planning. About this whole bloody war he's just declared."
Lynne slowed her steps until they reached a quiet alcove where the torchlight flickered faintly on the stone. She leaned against the wall, watching him with steady eyes.
"You know there are things I cannot simply say." she answered evenly.
Harry stopped, frowning at her. "What do you mean you couldn't? You knew, didn't you?"
"Yes, I knew. We have been through this already, Harry. I cannot talk about things he deems secrets." She kept her tone calm, though the truth scraped at her throat. "There are things I cannot speak of. My master has forbidden it."
Confusion deepened in his eyes turning into frustration, though she caught the edge of hurt beneath it.
"So I'm just supposed to accept that you keep secrets from me? I found out from reading the ruddy Prophet, Lynne."
She did not flinch at the sharpness of his words, though it cut deeper than she expected.
"It is not about trust, Harry. We want you safe, and knowing some things will put that at risk."
"Oh yeah? Did he say that too?"
"Yes."
He raked a hand through his hair, restless. "He basically said he was going to kill all past and present Death Eaters, Lyn. Start a fight with those who already killed so many. People are already talking about it everywhere, and I'm stuck here, not knowing what's going to happen."
"Harry, you hav-"
"And Sirius… Merlin, Sirius is living with him! What if he does something reckless? What if he gets dragged into this whole thing because of Thorne?"
She reached forward, placing her hand on his wrist before his words could spiral further.
"It will be fine; my mentor wouldn't risk him like that. Thorne is not careless with those he keeps close. He wouldn't start this conflict if he wasn't sure he could win."
Harry's eyes searched hers, desperate for reassurance, desperate for a certainty she could not truly give. His voice cracked low, almost a whisper.
"I told you before… I can't lose them. I admit there are things you told me that were worrying, but he has always been kind to me. I don't want him to die either."
She went over his words carefully, thinking of the boggart, and the mirror it had shown him. It seemed that he truly feared being left alone, losing the people he cared about. She tightened her grip on his wrist, then drew him into a hug.
He was awkward for a few seconds before his arms wrapped around her shoulders, clinging tighter than she expected. His head rested against hers, and for a brief moment she let herself sink into the warmth, her chest tight with an ache she did not know how to name.
"I won't leave you, Harry." she said quietly, her voice steady but softer than her usual tone. "Not now, not ever. That much I can promise."
His breath shook against her shoulder. "You better keep that promise."
She allowed herself a faint smile. "I always keep my promises."
"Sometimes, fighting is necessary to keep those we love safe. Those people followed Voldemort, they are a threat to you as well."
Harry didn't reply, but he also didn't let go yet, resting his head on her shoulder. They stood there longer than they should have, the corridor hushed and still around them.
A sudden voice cut through the silence, cool and cutting as a blade. "Ten points from Ravenclaw for inappropriate behavior in the corridors."
They pulled apart at once, turning to see Professor Snape gliding into view, his robes trailing in dramatic fashion. His expression was one of disdain sharpened to habit, though his eyes lingered on them with something more pointed than usual.
"If you are done with that display, I suggest you move on."
"Yes, Professor." Lynne said evenly, her tone neutral.
Harry muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse, and he looked embarrassed. Snape's lip curled faintly, but he said nothing further, sweeping past them toward the staircase. His presence was gone as swiftly as it had appeared, leaving only the faint sting of reprimand and the lingering echo of his footsteps.
Harry glanced at her, the corner of his mouth twitching upward despite himself. "Seriously… inappropriate behavior, for a hug. That must be why he´s so cruel all the time, no one ever hugged him. Maybe we should´ve kissed just to see if he´d try to expel us on the spot."
She arched an eyebrow at him, her expression cool but her eyes betraying a flicker of amusement. "That would have cost us far more than ten points."
He chuckled quietly, the sound easing some of the tension from his shoulders. "Might have been worth it to see his face, though."
She shook her head but said nothing more, falling back into step beside him as they made their way toward the Ravenclaw tower. His mood had lightened, if only slightly, and that was enough for now.
Inside, though, she carried the weight of his words with her. He was right that it wasn't fair of her to keep secrets, but she couldn't help it. Still, there were a few things she could have told him. Her master hadn't forbidden her from mentioning her new memories and feelings, but she was still keeping it a secret.
It made her feel guilty but at the same time, she knew Harry would be horrified to know what happened to her other soul. She would deal with it on her own, and hopefully never remember it at all.
As they reached the tower door and spoke the riddle aloud, she glanced sideways at Harry, who was already teasing Padma about something trivial. His laughter sounded genuine, even if fleeting.
She forced her expression smooth and her steps steady with determination. She would have to train hard again, for she had a new promise to keep.
The Ravenclaw study club had become something more than Professor Flitwick had imagined when he first approved the paperwork. What had started as a handful of friends gathering in the library now filled an entire classroom, desks pushed aside so that rows of chairs could be arranged.
The chalkboards were covered with neat notes that rotated every evening, and shelves along the walls had already been filled with borrowed copies of reference texts. It was no longer just a club. It felt like another class, but one where students chose to be present, one where learning was shared by all.
Lynne stood at the front, not because she had asked to, but because the others gravitated toward her without question. Harry was beside her today, wand already in hand, while Hermione organized the day's reading lists with Padma and Terry.
The younger students filled the front row, perched on the edges of their seats as if waiting for something extraordinary to happen. Even a few Slytherins had begun slipping in, cautious at first, then staying once they realized no one turned them away.
The world outside Hogwarts was trembling under the weight of Thorne's broadcast. Students whispered about it in the corridors, some with excitement, others with fear, or open confusion.
Families were being threatened, some already attacked, and for many of the younger ones, the study club became the only place where they could ask questions without being dismissed.
So Lynne had decided it was time to do more than tutor them in homework.
"Today we will start a defense-focused lesson." she said quietly, her voice carrying through the room with its usual calm weight. "I understand that the world out there has become frightening. To feel safe, you need to know how to defend yourselves."
She raised her wand and gestured for Harry to join her at the center. He stepped forward without hesitation, rolling his shoulders in preparation. She had trained him in dueling and fighting countless times, but today was not about them. Today was about showing the others that they could learn too.
The duel began with a simple exchange. Harry flicked his wand and sent a Disarming Charm silently across the space, which she parried with a protego charm. She moved smoothly into a countercurse, forcing him to dodge, his shoes squeaking slightly on the stone floor.
Spells cracked the air in sharp bursts of color, light flashing off the walls, the rhythm quickening until the younger students gasped aloud at the speed of it. Harry grinned between spells, a spark of excitement flaring in his eyes.
She matched his pace, pressing him harder with each exchange until he was forced to stay put and couldn't dodge anymore.
"Protego!"
Spell after spell struck Harry´s barrier until it finally cracked. With a silent disarming charm she finally sent his wand spinning, which clattered across the floor. She lowered her wand at once, offering him the faintest nod of approval.
The room erupted in awe and chatter, the younger ones whispering furiously about how fast it had been, how impossible it seemed. Lynne turned back to them, her expression composed but her tone sharp.
"You just saw the level a young wizard can reach if you practice enough. I can teach you, just as I taught Harry. Obviously it won't be anything lethal. I don't want anyone hurt. Although for the older students that joined us today, I might offer something else."
Harry retrieved his wand and, to her quiet satisfaction, joined her without needing to be asked.
"Whew." he said, a small grin tugging at his mouth. "It looks terrifying, but once you practice, you realize you can do it too. So? Who wants to try?."
That broke whatever hesitation lingered among them. Hands rose, voices clamored to volunteer, and even some of the usually reserved Hufflepuffs leaned forward, eyes sharp with interest.
Lynne organized them into pairs, moving through the rows with patient corrections, her movements precise as she adjusted stances and redirected clumsy spellwork. She caught Flitwick's shadow at the door once, the professor smiling faintly as he watched before slipping away, no doubt pleased to see his idea take root so strongly.
The training stretched long into the evening, but by the end, most of the students that participated had enthusiastic looks on their faces. Of course, some would still be fearful to try, but their words could convince others to join in eventually. They left the classroom with flushed faces, tired arms, and for some, the first hints of confidence they had not known they carried.
Outside those lessons, though, it seemed she had inspired people to approach her. Younger students began trailing after her in the corridors, seeking to talk to her or ask for advice on different spells.
She noticed them waiting outside her classes, clustering around her at meals, even falling into step with her when she tried to walk alone. They were not intrusive, but it annoyed some of her friends at times.
She began asking some of the students why they followed her. From what they told her, it seemed that someone in Hogwarts was spreading the word that pureblood wizards should stay together and teach muggleborns and blood traitors a lesson so that they wouldn't get any ideas after Thorne's broadcast.
It was scary for most students as they didn't want to pick any side and felt that the conflict shouldn't be their concern. They just wanted to feel safe at Hogwarts and finish their education without being hexed, and being her seemed to calm them down. If only they knew…
She saved her solitude for the nights retreating into her truck when the castle was silent, her wand glowing across scattered scrolls and stained parchment. She returned again to her experiments with memory, measuring lines of runes and testing proportions of herbs in carefully labeled vials.
The Forgetful Potion was crude in its traditional form, little more than a novelty spell made liquid, but she was determined to refine it into what she needed. As she crushed valerian root into a fine powder, her journal stirred with heat against her sleeve. She opened it with careful fingers, the ink already forming in precise strokes.
Update: Had to lock Black inside the manor until further notice, you will be needed for a mission soon.
Her quill moved at once. What happened?
The reply came swiftly, as though he had been waiting.
He went to Surrey and burned the home of the muggle relatives who mistreated Harry.
Her chest tightened. She didn't really care much for the muggles, especially that fat muggle who was quite disgusting. She wanted to punch him several times more than what she did that day but she didn't want to kill him.
Why would he do that?
I risked telling him about what they did to Harry, I wanted him to act with more maturity and think of raising him with care. I hoped it would give him confidence, show that no matter what, he would do a better job already. Miscalculated his state of mind.
I will be ready tomorrow night. She wrote back.
Good.
Lynne let the quill slip from her fingers, the words swimming before her eyes. She closed the journal with more force than intended, the sound echoing sharp against the walls of her trunk. For a moment she sat in silence, the lamp flame bending in the draft, her hands pressed flat against her knees.
A mission now felt reckless, her head had trouble with conflicting emotions and memories. That could mean mistakes and doubts, but she was nowhere close to figuring the potion out yet. She considered risking obliviation just for now.
She sighed heavily, the sound soft but long, and reached again for the parchment. Her work on the potion would continue. It was the only thing she could control tonight.
The days after the study session grew heavier with whispers. Lynne could feel the shift not only in the corridors but in the way students looked at one another across the Great Hall. Distrust spreading through the castle.
For now, it was the Slytherins who carried the sharpest edge of it. She first noticed it first in the eyes of two fourth-years, then in a few others which instead of ignoring the rest of the students, were openly sneering or giving angry looks at other students, especially muggleborns.
Once while walking to class, she caught their whispers before they noticed her.
"…blood-traitors, all of them. I don't understand why they wouldn't join us."
She let her presence announce itself with the scrape of her metal arms in the wall. The boys fell silent at once, eyes snapping forward, but the words clung in the air. It was not the only time.
By the end of the week, she had confirmed through her younger Ravenclaw students that certain Slytherins were actively trying to recruit others, repeating slogans about blood purity, the importance of tradition, and the danger of allowing Muggleborns to grow too bold.
It was almost absurd. No one at Hogwarts had moved to attack them or threatened to strip them of their names and privileges. Besides, most students didn't even know Thorne at all let alone follow him so it made no sense. Yet fear was fertile soil, and propaganda always grew fastest in frightened minds.
She sat at the edge of her desk after another long club session, the chalk dust still clinging faintly to her sleeves. Harry was across the room correcting a younger boy's wand grip while Luna sat in the corner braiding rushes into a strange crown.
Lynne let her eyes wander across the gathering and thought of how fragile it all felt. One rumor, one spark, and many would face an angry mob. Later, when most of the younger ones had drifted off, she lingered behind, reorganizing parchments and extinguishing the lamps.
Her journal warmed, the familiar prickle spreading across her fingertips as she pulled it open.
Good job on your last mission, I won't need you for a few weeks at the moment. About the pureblood propaganda problem you asked about: Do not interfere yet.
She tapped the quill against the page before answering.
If they spread it further, it will reach Ravenclaw as well. It would put Harry at risk.
The ink unfurled slowly in reply.
Keep order in your house then, nothing more. The others will eat themselves before long. Your task lies elsewhere.
Confirmed.
She closed the journal with a sigh. She wanted to know more, but her mentor wouldn't type beyond what was necessary. Yet it did not ease her mind. She had seen the fear in her younger students' eyes, and heard the tremble in their voices when they asked whether the castle was still safe. They were just kids.
The unease followed her even into Lupin's class the next morning. She sat near the front with Harry and Anthony while the professor paced with his usual absentminded air; but her senses prickled all the same.
It was not the presence of a boggart or any other creature bound to the school. She was certain now that it was Lupin himself.
Her magic stirred whenever he drew near, the same warning she had felt on the train, then again during the study sessions he had observed. The feeling was never overwhelming, but it was constant.
She leaned back slightly, narrowing her eyes as he explained the difference between jinxes and hexes. His tone was steady, calm, even kind, but the pulse of danger did not relent.
She went over what she knew about him. The professor would get sick regularly, and he had scars all over his face and body that she could observe at odd times when his sleeves were pulled.
There weren't many scars that couldn't be healed magically, so the possibility of them being inflicted by a dark creature was quite high. She wondered if Lupin was a danger she should deal with, or if her warnings were unfounded.
Her mentor didn't mention him at all, so for now, she wouldn't act but she would be ready to take him out if the occasion deemed it necessary. She would keep an eye out for him at the very least. That night, while entering her trunk, she had a memory attack her mind once more.
She could hear voices speaking rapid French, sharp with panic. She saw flashes of a small house, a silver mirror on the wall, a woman screaming as spells tore through plaster and wood. The image was too sharp to dismiss, and when her vision came back to her, the echo of it left her head pounding.
In her trunk, she stared at the runes she had scrawled across her parchments. The potion was still incomplete, the measurements wrong, the effects unpredictable. She could not yet control what to erase and could not guarantee she would not strip away something vital. But she was running out of time before the next mission.
Her quill trembled slightly in her hand as she traced another set of calculations. She had always believed she could overcome any weakness, be it emotions, or anything that might compromise her.
Yet these memories were not fading, pressing harder in her mind threatening to fracture the calm she worked so hard to keep. The next message from Thorne offered no comfort.
We lost two tonight. There will be a change of plans. I will need you in two days.
Acknowledged. She wrote back.
She pressed her palm against the page, hoping to feel her mentor's presence to calm her troubled mind. Her hesitation had not killed anyone yet but she knew it was only a matter of time. She could not afford doubt or distractions. It could potentially cause the death of her allies.
And yet, when she closed her eyes, she saw the blur of faces she did not know. She heard their voices, foreign and familiar all at once. She pressed her forehead against the desk.
"Nox."
As her wand light extinguished, she let out a long breath.
Harry sat across from Dumbledore in the Headmaster's office, his hands balled into fists in his lap. The air was thick with the smell of candy or sweets and the faint hum of the enchanted devices on the shelves, all of it irritatingly calm compared to his anxious mind.
Dumbledore's gaze was steady, but Harry avoided it. Lynne had warned him not to meet those blue eyes directly, not when the Headmaster could slip into someone's thoughts if given the chance. He focused instead on the carved armrests of the chair, tracing the grooves with his thumb until Dumbledore finally spoke.
"Harry, my boy." the Headmaster began, his voice measured and faintly sorrowful, "You must understand that we are worried for you. Solan Thorne's recent words, his declaration… Well let's just say it was an unwelcome surprise."
"I didn't even know about the speech." Harry said quickly. "Not until everyone else did."
Dumbledore nodded, though the crease in his brow deepened.
"Be that as it may, you are close to him, are you not? I fear what this may mean for you in the coming months. He is no ordinary man, Harry. His history is bloody after all, and though he fought Voldemort's forces once, his path is not one I would wish you to walk."
Harry clenched his jaw, forcing down the urge to argue. He knew Dumbledore didn't trust Thorne, but he was not someone who would force Harry to do anything. "Why would I do that?" he asked, trying to keep his voice even.
"Well… we all make mistakes sometimes in our youth. Even I." Dumbledore said, "You must not contact him anymore, and I hope you don't repeat what you did last summer", he added. "The Weasleys were quite disappointed with you."
Harry's head snapped up despite himself. "What? You can't just-"
"It is necessary." Dumbledore interrupted, though his tone never rose. "And furthermore, I cannot allow you to participate in the Hogsmeade visits this year. It is too dangerous."
"Why would it be?" Harry asked bitterly.
The Headmaster inclined his head. "You must see that this is not punishment, Harry, but precaution."
Harry's stomach twisted. Anger built within him, but worse than that, the helplessness. "Why me? Why am I singled out like this when everyone else gets to live their lives?"
Dumbledore's gaze softened. "Because of Sirius Black."
The name alone sent heat rushing through Harry's chest. He forced his expression blank, even as his heart hammered. "What about him?"
"You know of him?" Dumbledore asked, eyes narrowing slightly.
"I've heard some things after his escape, yes." Harry lied, his voice flat.
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "Sirius Black was believed to be your father's closest friend. He was entrusted with the secret of their hiding place during the war. And he betrayed them to Voldemort. He is the reason they are dead. He also killed another friend of theirs, Peter Pettigrew and a dozen muggles."
Harry's nails dug into the wood of the chair. He had to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from shouting. The truth burned inside him, the truth Lynne and Thorne had given him, the truth of Peter Pettigrew's betrayal, of Sirius' innocence.
"He may already have a reason to try and kill you, after Voldemort´s defeat, but if you are also in contact with Thorne, who no doubt will be fighting against him, it would give him more reasons to do so."
He had come to know him; even if a bit rough around the edges at times, he would never hurt him. But if he said it now, everything would come crashing down. He forced himself to breathe, slowly and evenly, even as his chest felt like it was splitting.
"Do you understand now why you cannot be allowed out of sight?" Dumbledore asked gently.
Harry swallowed the words he wanted to hurl back. "Yes, Professor."
"I must also warn you to never go looking for him, Harry."
"Now, why would I go looking for a murderer?" he mockingly asked.
The meeting ended soon after, Dumbledore dismissing him with a few more soft-spoken warnings, but Harry barely heard them. His head rang as he left the office, anger boiling too hot to contain.
He stormed through the corridor, the torches along the walls flickering as he passed, until a familiar figure stepped into view. Lynne was waiting, leaning against the stone archway as though she had known exactly where to find him. Her expression was calm, but her eyes read him in an instant.
"Are you alright?" she asked quietly.
Harry exhaled sharply, his fists still tight. "He told me I can't go to Hogsmeade. He told me I can't go back to our home. And he…" Harry's voice caught in his throat. "He told me Sirius betrayed my parents."
Lynne did not speak at once. She let the silence stretch, her gaze steady, her presence solid. Harry felt the tightness in his chest ease just enough to go on.
"I wanted to yell at him." he admitted. "Tell him the truth. But I didn't. I just sat there and agreed like an idiot."
"Well done, Harry. I'm sure that was a tough situation you just handled." Lynne said firmly. "I don't think he would have believed you if you had told him the truth."
He looked at her, the anger still raw but blunted by the calm certainty in her tone. "So what do I do now?"
"Well…" she answered simply. "You learn and train. I also may know of a secret passage to go to Hogsmeade anyway if you really wanted to go."
He smiled at her. "Of course you would know of a way out."
"For now, we should prepare for Quidditch."
He blinked at her in surprise.
"Quidditch?" he repeated, half incredulous.
"Yes. The season will start soon. We cannot let emotions distract us from practice." she said, her mouth twitching just slightly, the faintest echo of a smile.
"You once said you would rather play a match blindfolded than study Arithmancy. Now is your chance to prove it."
Harry laughed despite himself, the sound breaking through the heaviness in his chest. "Alright then. Quidditch it is."
They walked together down the corridor, his anger still lingering but no longer overwhelming. For now, the thought of taking to the sky, of wind against his face and the game ahead, was enough to make him forget.
As they reached the staircase down toward the Entrance Hall, Lynne spoke again.
"Roger Davies was made captain this year, and he has already spoken with me about setting the first practice for this weekend. He wants to test new formations before our first match."
Harry's shoulders straightened, the spark of excitement finally winning out over the frustration.
"Brilliant. That means I'll get to chase the Snitch again before the season even starts."
Together, they stepped out into the night air, the thought of brooms, practice, and open skies carrying them forward.
"Sometimes you just have to fan the flames a bit to achieve your goals. Stay warm people!"
