"Listen up," I said, clapping my hands together, standing in Malfoy's room, "We have to work hard and quickly to achieve our goal. We're going to split up our tasks and move as swiftly as possible." I faced my partners in crime.

Theo and Malfoy.

Theodore Nott raised his hand.

"Yes?" I asked.

"I know I agreed to doing this, but, where on Earth are we going to find our ingredients in such a short time?"

"Snape, of course. With Malfoy's help we'll apparate to Hogwarts, meet him there, tell him it's something for You-Know-Who, and come back."

"It's not that easy," he grumbled.

"But it really is," I replied.

"What do we need?" Nott asked, arms crossed.

"Simple. Fluxweed that has been picked on the night of a full moon, lacewing flies, knotgrass, leeches, Boomslang skin, and . . . Horn of a Bicorn."

"Steele . . ."

"But. . ." Theo protested, sitting cross-legged on Malfoy's bed, "How will we get into Hogwarts?"

"Don't worry about that part," Malfoy said as he paced the room, "I know Amycus and Alecto Carrow well enough. They'll let us in."

"The Carrows?" Theo shuddered.

"You'll be safe with me, Nott," Malfoy assured, rolling his eyes.

"You need to bring back a copy of Most Potente Potions from the Restricted Section of the library."

"Do you want me to end the War while I'm at it?" Malfoy snarked.

"That would be great, Malfoy," I retorted. "Chop chop, Draco," I snapped my fingers. "Off to Hogwarts we go."

"Fine. You two coming with?" Theo asked, getting ready to disapparate.

"Yeah, go on ahead. I'll be right there," Malfoy said.

Theo nodded and turned towards the door, making his way out. No one could apparate or disapparate from the manor—Bellatrix had made it that way so no one could escape.

Draco opened his mouth to say something, but I stormed on over to him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He stepped back, caught off guard.

"Thank you for everything."

"I just want to make it an even playing ground. Helping Potter escape makes things more . . . interesting. Plus, it would piss off my father, which I really need right now," he said, patting me on the back.

"Your father won't find out. No one will, trust me on that."

He sighed. "It would be great to go up to him, after all this, and say 'Father, remember that time we had Harry Potter locked up and were about to win the war? Well, I was the one who let him out.'"

I let go of him.

"I'll be there when you do that. I have to see his reaction with my own eyes."

He smirked. "Sure."

⚡⚡⚡

When we had traveled a safe distance from the Manor and out of the range of the spell, we apparated near the entrance of Hogwarts.

"Ready?" Malfoy asked.

"No," I shook my head, and began walking towards the large doors of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Two Death Eaters stood at the doors, and I shivered, rubbing my arms to create some warmth as goosebumps formed all over my skin. There was an eerie chill around the school . . . something was off.

Malfoy looked up, and I followed his gaze.

"Dementors?" I asked, shocked.

"Keeps the students in," he replied, but I could tell they even worried him. The Death Eaters recognized Malfoy, opening the doors for the both of us.

"We have to split up," I told him. "Since it's the dead of night, most of the students will be asleep. You're going to have to break into the potions classroom."

"And you?" he raised an eyebrow as the doors creaked shut, leaving behind silence.

I lowered my voice. "I'll meet Snape and see how many of the ingredients I can get directly from him. He teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts now, right?"

"Right."

"Finally," we said at the same time. The corner of his lip quirked up. "The cursed position," he said. "Let's see how long Snape lasts. Anyway, I'll meet you back here?"

"Yes."

"And if anyone bothers you, flash them the Mark," he said, nodding towards my arm. "It's your free pass to get in anywhere, anytime."

And with that, we split up.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts tower was one of the many towers of Hogwarts. It stood next to the Viaduct Entrance, overlooking the Suspension Bridge and also the Training Grounds. I knew this, because, it was my favorite classroom, and it had a clear view of Quidditch games  which I oh-so-heartily enjoyed watching.

As I traveled up to the top of the tower, I stopped short in front of the door to the classroom, Pulling and pushing, I realized it was locked. I pulled out my wand, pointing it at the keyhole, when suddenly I stopped.

I remembered what I'd done earlier in front of Hermione.

Pocketing the wand, I took a deep breath and looked at the keyhole.

"Alohamora," I whispered, waiting for the satisfying clicking sound of a door unlocking. But nothing happened.

I frowned.

"Alohamora," I tried again, only to be disappointed once more. Maybe it had been a fluke, a one time thing? Wizards didn't perform magic—controllable magic—without their wands, did they? It was simply uncommon. Wands made wizards and witches so much more powerful. But wandless magic . . . it wasn't 'unheard of,' so to speak.

I cleared my throat, pointing a finger at it. You better open, I warned the brass doorknob. "Alohamora."

It clicked.

Confused, I turned the doorknob, pushing the door open, and took a step inside. Did wandless magic work with threats?

Elvira, you're really an idiot.

I shook my hands to get rid of the nerves, and then began searching through the cabinets and drawers. Yes, Snape was a DADA professor now, but he'd been a Potions Master forever. He was bound to have various potion-related ingredients lying around.

I shuffled through a drawer, looking through files and papers for any signs of Boomslang skin or lacewings flies, but to no avail. All I found were documents and books on defensive techniques and the history of Dark Arts.

I stood up, straightening my back, and did a quick once-over of the room. And then, just as I was about to leave, I saw it.

A tall, skinny cabinet, right near the door at the entrance.

My eyes widened, heart leaping out of my chest. There was a person standing next to it, someone who I recognized immediately. The hooked nose, the greasy black hair . . .

Professor Severus Snape.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Ms. Steele," he drawled.

"Professor Snape," I greeted, trying to calm my racing heart and sudden panic, "What might you be doing here?"

"I might ask you the same question."

I swallowed. "Right, of course. I was actually planning on putting together a potion—"

"You are not a student here anymore, Miss Steele." He narrowed his eyes. "What were you doing to the door?"

Taken aback, I stuttered, unable to come up with an answer. "I was . . . It was unlocked, I just walked right in."

"Yes," he said, taking a few steps forward, "you unlocked it."

"Well, that's a minor detail. . ."

"How?" he pressed. "I didn't see you take out your wand."

"I did it without my wand."

"And you were able to do it?"

I nodded. "But I don't understand, is it possible for a witch or wizard to perform wandless magic?"

"Wands channel magic so as to make its effects both more precise and more powerful," he said, coal-black eyes filled with curiosity. "Many wizards can perform wandless magic, but it's not strong. Wands, mixed with the correct wood and a core from a magical animal, can enhance a witch or wizard's powers. And, not many people can do it in the first place, but even though a few can it is generally held to be a mark of the very greatest witches and wizards that they have also been able to produce wandless magic of a very high quality."

"So, you're saying this is normal? Some wizards can just naturally do magic without wands?"

He shook his head. "Magic existed before wands, Ms. Steele. The wand is a European invention, and while African witches and wizards have adopted it as a useful tool in the last century, many spells are cast simply by pointing the finger or through hand gestures. Like you—"

"Like I just did," I completed for him. I looked down at my hand. "I just have to channel my magic into my hand?"

"Yes, but there is no guarantee it'll be strong enough to cast simple spells like expelliarmus, or tougher ones like bombarda. Casting the Patronus Charm without a wand, for example, should be extremely hard to do." He reached into his robes, pulling out his wand. "Try it."

"Right now?" I asked.

"I don't have all day, Ms. Steele," he said irritably. He readied himself, aiming the wand at me.

I looked at it, concentrating.

"Expelliarmus." The wand wiggled, but didn't fly out of his grasp like it should've, disarming him.

"Try again."

I inhaled, setting my jaw. "Expelliarmus."

It lifted into the air, but Snape caught it easily.

"Trying using your hand like before."

I blew out air through my lips, holding up my hand, this time, facing my palm directly towards the wand.

Expelliarmus!"

There was a tingling in my wrist, and then the wand seemed like it had been snatched from his hand and thrown across the room by some unknown force. His eyes widened as it hit the wall and clattered on the floor.

He looked at me.

"Accio," I whispered, and the wand shot into my grasp.

A smirk spread across Snape's face. "Well, Ms. Steele. I definitely wasn't expecting that."

⚡️⚡️⚡️

Snape decided he would drop all punishments (like facing the notorious Amycus and Alecto Carrow) for trying to steal from him, in return for one thing.

"Every day, you will come to train with me here."

"But Sir, I can't," I tried to protest.

"Do you have something better to do with your time?"

Like save Harry Potter from your people for the hundredth time? Yes!

But I couldn't say anything, because he was a Death Eater, and he couldn't be trusted. 

Finally, I gave in. "Fine. But only if you give me some ingredients for a potion I'm trying to concoct."

Snape scowled. "Which ones?"

I recited the list to him, and he let out a sigh.

"What are you planning to do with Polyjuice Potion, Ms. Steele?"

"It's not for me, it's for . . ." I racked my brains for a name. "Yaxley. He's doing some undercover business."

I know Snape didn't believe me, but the professor turned towards the long cabinet, unlocking it. When he pulled open the door, I saw almost everything I needed inside.

He began putting the ingredients into a knapsack, then turned to look at me with squinted eyes.

"Here."

"Is that everything?" I asked.

"No, the Horn of Bicorn is in the Slytherin Common Room." When I raised an eyebrow, he sighed. "It used to be in my office, but then some student thought it would be a nice decoration piece to put up on the wall. I would get it back, but I have better things to worry about."

I nodded, biting back a smile. "Thank you, Professor Snape."

"I expect to see you here tomorrow," he said with a scowl, and I nodded, rushing away.

The Slytherin Common Room was located in the dungeons, which is why it was called the Slytherin Dungeons. Members of any house peed their pants before they thought about coming down here—except Hufflepuffs, of course. Hufflepuffs were always welcome—because of how sinister it was. And now, with the Dementors adding to the friendly charm, I doubted any Slytherin wanted to be down there.

The dementors were held back by patronuses; one in the shape of a bloodhound, and the other a peacock. They kept the soul-suckers at bay and I wondered which Slytherin had enough happy memories right now to create such powerful patronuses.

I realized that over time, I had come to love my house. Being back here brought me comfort, rather than unhappiness.

Our common room lay behind a concealed entrance down in the dungeons. Its windows looked out into the depths of the Hogwarts lake. We often saw a giant squid swooshing by — and sometimes other more interesting creatures. The hangout had the aura of a mysterious, underwater shipwreck.

The thought of seeing it all again got me excited.

I walked to the secret entrance and took a deep breath, cracking my fingers. I hopped a little, trying to bring warmth into my body from the dementors who really just sucked the life out of the corridor. I racked my brains, trying to remember the long list of passwords for the door to open.

"Pureblood," I tried.

There was a slight pause, and the next thing I heard was the grating sound of stone against stone.

Really? Pureblood? Anyone could guess that.

I slipped into the room, the wall groaning as it concealed the entranceway again. I took a look at the common room, smiling as old memories came back to me. The soft green glow, the crackling of the fire at the hearth of an intricately designed fireplace. The sofas. More specifically, Malfoy's sofa.

I laughed.

Elvira, no time for reminiscing. You have to find that Bicorn Horn, I chided myself. I scanned the empty room, looking for any signs of a twisted horn. I bit the inside of my lip, hands on my hips, looking for any clues . . .

And then, I spotted it, hanging right above the fireplace. Someone had nailed it up there. I rolled my eyes at myself for not noticing it earlier. I walked up to a table with a half-played Wizard's Chess game sitting on it, and grabbed a chair, pulling it over to the fireplace. I stepped onto the plush seat, rolled my shoulders, and stretched my arms, reaching towards the horn. The chair legs rattled and I nearly lost my balance.

Regaining my footing, I stretched my hands out further . . . further . . .

"Elvira?"

The voice caught me off guard, and this time I did fall, landing hard on my hip and elbow. I groaned out a string of curses, and rolled over to my good side, facing the source of the voice.

"What the hell . . ." My lips snapped shut as my eyes fell on her, and I could feel myself paling slowly.

"Tracey?"

"Elvira, is that you?" she asked, slowly coming out of the shadows. I pushed myself off the ground, wincing as pain ran up my elbow.

"It's me."

As she stepped into the light, I noticed that she had a cut running across her cheekbone, and a black eye. She was holding out her wand, pointing it at me, her fingernails caked with dirt.

I got to my feet.

"What happened to you?" I asked, walking towards her. Her dark hair was cropped short, her gentle face had been carved, features sharper, more hardened. Tracey's bright blue eyes full of something that hadn't been there before . . . defiance.

"I could same the same for you, Elvira. Where have you been?" I wondered if she was angry at me. I couldn't tell what she was thinking—her emotions had been masked under the new, hardened exterior.

"I . . ."

"Not at school, for sure. Not with me, trying to protect our friends from these . . . Death Eaters," she spat out. "So, have you been at home? With your parents?"

"Yes," I mumbled, grimacing at the lie.

"Wrong. You weren't home, because I checked there. I talked to your parents." My eyes widened. "And you know what I found out?" she said, stepping closer to me, "You, Elvira Steele," she said, poking me hard in the chest, "do not exist. So . . . Riddle me this, Elvira Steele, where have you been?"

When I couldn't respond, guilt eating away at me, she let out a defeated sigh, taking a step back.

And then, she pulled up her left sleeve, exposing clean, bare skin. Unmarked. Untattooed.

"You know how this goes," she said. "Like we've always done before. Pull up your sleeve, Elvira. Prove to me you're still . . . you."

I swallowed thickly, a lump forming in my throat. She seemed so confident, as if I would show her my arm, prove that there was no Mark, and then we would hug and reconcile. I looked down at my covered arms, and then back up at her.

"Well?"

I rolled up my right sleeve.

"Other one, Elvira."

I shook my head.

"I can't." Tears pricked at the back of my eyes as I hung my head in shame. "I can't, Trace. I can't show you."

"Why . . . Why can't you?" she asked, unbelievingly. "Come on, I know there's nothing there. Just get it over with." Slowly, I rolled up my sleeve. As her gaze fell on the black skull and snake, she furrowed her eyebrows, shaking her head.

She grabbed the arm of the sofa she was standing next to, and sank into it. Tracey put her face in her hands.

"No. Not you, too."

"I have a perfectly good explanation," I tried to say, but she stood up, pointing her wand at me.

"Flipendo!" she growled, and the spell hit me straight in the chest, throwing me far back and sending me crashing into a cabinet. All the breath whooshed out of my lungs as I rolled onto my knees, away from the splintered wood, trying to regain my breath.

"Tracey, stop!" I tried to pull out my wand to protect me from another Knockback Jinx, but she was faster, disarming me. The wand flipped out of my grasp.

"This whole year, I've been taking shit for standing up for the other houses. I am one of the main targets of the Carrows!" she bellowed. "Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan, Ginny Weasley and I have been working together, and while he's been keeping tabs on Potter, I've been looking for you." Now there were tears in her eyes, voice trembling with not sadness, but a sudden surge of fury. "I spent all this time worried sick, hoping your parents were safe, that you hadn't been killed, or worse . . ." she pointed her wand at my exposed arm, "that you hadn't become one of the people we've been fighting against."

Now, students were waking up—friends, some enemies, awake and rubbing their eyes to see what was causing the ruckus. I spotted Millicent Bulstrode amongst the crowd, Daphne Greengrass, Lily Moon, Joby Flux, Sapphire Wembley, and Niro Lakeshire.

"Listen to me, Tracey. I'm sorry, but is there somewhere we can talk in private?" I pleaded.

"No. Whatever you have to say, you say it here, in front of all of us."

I searched the room, spotting my wand, and made a move towards it.

"Alarte Ascendare!" she shouted, and my wand flew into the air. I landed on the stone floor, missing the wand by a second.

"Damn it, Davis!" I yelled, slamming a fist against the floor. "Will you give me a second to explain myself?"

As she readied herself for another spell, there was a sudden grating sound, causing everyone's heads to turn towards the entrance of the common room.

The wall slid open, revealing one blond boy. He walked in, wearing what I'd seen him in earlier—black pants and a white shirt, but he was missing the tie, the top three buttons undone, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the mark.

"Steele," he said as he strolled in, "I ran into some trouble." Behind him appeared Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott close behind. "Seems like you did too," he said, raising an eyebrow, taking in the wrecked cabinet, and me, lying belly-down on the floor.

"What's she doing here?" Pansy and I asked at the same time, scowling at each other.

"Pansy has joined our cause for now, only because my dear aunt Bellatrix imprisoned both of her parents. And Zabini . . . well, Zabini does whatever she says," he gestured towards Parkinson lazily. "Now. How may I help?"

All eyes took in his Dark Mark, including Tracey's. Her outrage seemed to triple in size as she looked back and forth between Malfoy and I.

"I should've known," she hissed. "You forced her to do this, didn't you?"

I slowly sat up. "No, he didn't."

"That's where you're wrong, love. Steele makes all the decisions herself. We simply follow. If she says, 'break into Hogwarts,' that's what we do. If she tells us to 'have the Carrows give the students hell,' we're booked for the weekend. And if Elvira Steele tells us to 'get tattoos together,' well," he let out a laugh, "you better believe we're going to be lined up in front of the Dark Lord, ready to be Marked." Now, he was smirking, as if he was enjoying hearing himself talk. I wanted to kill him.

"Malfoy!" I sputtered in horror, scrambling to my feet. I turned to Tracey. "He's lying."

Parkinson raised her wand, Accio-ing the Horn of Bicorn. "Come on, Steele," she motioned, "we have to get going."

"Not so fast," Tracey snarled, throwing a hex his way. Malfoy deflected it, and then the next, and then the four others. Zabini stalked over, picked my wand off the floor, and threw a smirk at a couple of first years huddled fearfully in the stairway to the dormitory.

Anger was beginning to build up inside me now. Tracey was yelling insults at the four of them, and me, her best friend, her partner in crime. But I had taken that title too literally. And she was in no way my partner anymore.

"Tell her you're joking, Malfoy."

He sighed. "I'm joking, Davis."

But she wasn't listening. "And let me guess, you're all on his side, aren't you?" she said in disgust. "You all have the Dark Mark?"

"Oh, for the love of—" Pansy rolled up her sleeve, Zabini and Nott following. Five swirling, inky black snakes and skulls were bared in the Slytherin Common Room. Lilly Moon, a girl with silvery hair and deep, black eyes, who I shared a dormitory with last year, stood next to Tracey.

"I think it's time for you to leave," she said coldly. She gripped the wand in her hand tightly.

I looked towards Tracey helplessy. "Tracey . . ."

"Go," she said, tears of anguish brimming her eyes, though they did not dare fall over. "Get out of here."

I stepped towards Nott, Zabini, Parkinson, and Malfoy, it was us against them. Zabini had pocketed my wand, rendering me defenseless. I turned my back to Tracey.

"Let's go," I said, heartbroken. As we began to walk out, I saw as sudden flash of purple light. Acting strictly on instinct, I spun around. The spell bounced off a shield that had suddenly appeared in front of us. I glanced at the wand in Lilly Moon's hand, where the purple light had originated from, and raised my hand, palm faced outward.

Expelliarmus.

And just like that, her wand was thrown out of her grasp. My eyes flicked to Tracey's wand, and she too, was disarmed.

Chest rising and falling heavily, I stood in the doorway facing the Slytherins, with four Death Eaters behind me.

I turned to look at Malfoy, whose eyes were sparkling. He seemed speechless.

"Wicked," he said, his face breaking out into a pleased smirk. Zabini looked down at my wand, which he was still holding, and looked up at me with wide eyes.

"Wicked indeed."