A/N: Hello & thanks for tuning in. As it's been a while, you may want to jump back to Chapter 25, which has a summary of the story so far. Otherwise, expect a weekly update from now on! 

Sariah's heart beat uneasily at the magnitude of what she'd done. She was willingly and openly going to lie for him if required. Her eyes swept over his features, trying to find the bruising underneath the charm. Finding no hint of it, she returned to her transfiguration book and turned the page, trying to catch up on the readings.

Scorpius shifted in his seat. "Don't you want to learn it now?"

"Really?"

Scorpius pulled his wand deftly from his robes. "It's a basic charm, though a bit dirty in a duel if you ask me. I assume that's what you want it for?"

"I just want to have options," Sariah said. "If Wi-Fi really are at Hogwarts, then some protection is better than nothing, right?"

He nodded. "A deal's a deal. You know, you'd be better off learning Incarcerous instead," he mused. "It's a NEWT level transfiguration, but it conjures rope right out of the air, much classier than playground tactics."

She shook her head. "Conjuration's really difficult. Besides, why bother even conjuring rope when everyone has shoelaces?"

"The bow-tying charm it is," Scorpius said. "When Slytherin won the Quidditch cup in our second year, I made about a hundred bows for the common room. Shoelaces should adapt nicely." He paused for a moment. "If it's not for dueling, you'll have to learn the counter-charm as well though."

"What do you mean?"

"The less I know the better, but hypothetically, if someone trips and falls, you'll want it to look like an accident, right?"

He smirked at her shocked expression, before moving to sit next to her. They both turned so the table was at their backs, facing the full bookshelves. Dust motes floated lethargically in the air.

Scorpius demonstrated the charm on his own shoes. "Inflecto."  He flicked his wand in a sharp infinity symbol - the ends of each shoe lace rose to attention. With the reverse of the action, they'd knotted themselves together in a perfect bow. With a third flick, the knots slid loose, leaving no evidence of tampering.

Sariah tried the horizontal eight. Her laces hovered, moving like seaweed in a weak current, defying orders to untie.

"It's a smaller figure of eight," Scorpius said, "and narrower, and faster. Geeze, your wrist is so limp, give it some direction."

A few minutes later, she had it working, but nowhere near agility of Scorpius', which seemed to move with military precision.

"Thank you," she said, writing the instructions as precisely as she could on a piece of parchment, with his pointers. "The sooner I can do this, the better."

"Do you really think you'll have to use it?" Scorpius asked. "Wi-Fi are anti-muggle, and you're - oh- well you're not a muggle-"

"-both of my parents are muggles." she said. "I'd rather be prepared."

"If something happened," he trailed off darkly. "Tie their shoelaces and run."

***

Just before lunch during Monday's potions class, Professor Zamboni unexpectedly announced that she was requested by her Head of House. Sariah's eyes immediately leapt to Scorpius. He'd been right about the interviews. Scorpius continued with his potion, showing no signs of anxiety. Professor Zamboni folded his arms underneath his emerald cape - as if her leaving was a personal sleight against his teaching methods. Sariah packed her things hastily, leaving Romulus to stew the mandrake slices and clean up with a muttered, "Sorry."

Was she in trouble? Was it about Saturday? Had they found the Anglia? Her mind buzzed with worse-case scenarios as she walked up to the fourth floor. The castle was surprisingly peaceful. Her footsteps on the grand-staircase sounded like a clock ticking down. She knocked hesitantly on Professor Weatherby's mahogany door, and entered.

"Good afternoon, Miss Brooks," he said jovially. "Please take a seat."

"Good afternoon." She was surprised at the amount of sunlight streaming in through the windows. The leather seat creaked beneath her as she sat down opposite his scroll-filled desk.

"And what an afternoon it is. I might even say that it's a great afternoon," he said, gesturing outside to the weather outside. Sunlight glinted across the black lake, almost blindingly. It was starkly beautiful.

He shuffled through the papers on his desk. "We have a few matters to attend to, Miss Brooks. To get the unpleasant business behind us first: the awful graffiti incident which occurred over the weekend: we'll do this informally - how was your Saturday?"

"I got up early and studied Charms," Sariah said, reciting what she'd spent last night memorizing in the dormitory. It almost felt like the truth. "I started in the library with Scorpius-"

"-Begging your pardon, Miss Brooks. Do you mean Scorpius Malfoy?" he interrupted.

Sariah thought he sat up straighter in his chair, like a beagle on the scent.

"That's only Scorpius I know of, yes." Sariah said. "We studied practically the whole morning. Later, I went outside to get some fresh air. But I slipped-" she gestured to her cheek. "Britta helped me up to the Hospital wing."

There was a scribbling of parchment, as an eagle feather quill noted down her responses. Sariah didn't know if she should be awed, or worried at how much his quill was transcribing.

"Do you often study with Mr. Malfoy?" he asked.

"Since the start of this year," she got the feeling the question was more than it seemed. "After the hospital wing I went back to study with him until dinner."

The quill kept writing long after she stopped talking. Sariah frowned.

"It's good to hear that you get outside, even in such inhospitable weather." he continued. "Do you remember where you slipped?"

She shrugged. "Somewhere on the way back to the castle, I don't remember exactly."

"By the Quidditch Pitch? Vegetable garden? Lake side?"

"Somewhere around the lake side." It was beginning to feel more an more like an interrogation.

"Did you see anything unusual?"

Sariah shifted in her seat. "Besides the hissing snakes above the Great Hall that night, not really."

"The hissing snakes?" he repeated.

"Yeah," Sariah said. "When you walk underneath them, they hiss."

"Fascinating," he said. "Mr Filch mentioned that also. However, I thought it was merely a figure of speech. I don't recall them hissing at any point."

A dark thought occurred to Sariah. "Maybe they're like rattlesnakes. Maybe it's a warning."

Professor Weatherby and his great mustache drooped. "I wouldn't jump to that conclusion. It seems like a prank in bad taste at this stage. Thank you for informing me about the noises the serpents make. I'll be sure to follow up."

"On another note-" He traced his hands over the piles of letters and scrolls on the bench again, expertly plucking one from the pile. "Ah, here we go! A letter was delivered this morning about your career inquiries. I thought we could open it together."

Sariah brightened up. Finally, some good news.

Rubbing his hands together, he opened the envelope with an enthusiastic flourish of the wand. "Professor Weatherby, Thank you for your keen inquiries about our department. We understand that-" 

 He stopped speaking. Sariah watched his eyes scan the letter. With each line, his posture drooped, inch by inch, back into his chair.

Clouds dipped over the sun, and the room darkened fractionally.

"Miss Brooks-" he said slowly. "-regretfully-" he twisted his mustache thoughtfully. "-the requirement for your career of choice is indeed four NEWT level passes, including Potions & Defence Against The Dark Arts with Exceeds Expectations or better. I'm sorry to let you down."

"To, let me down? But you haven't let me down yet." Sariah said.

The requirements sunk in again. Four NEWT level passes. She looked back to his apologetic gaze, and back to the floor, trying to hide the hurt that was sinking in.

"You don't think I can do it?" She meant it as an accusation, but it came out much weaker than she'd intended. Practically a whisper.

"Miss Brooks, the mistake was mine. I thought the grade barrier would be substantially more manageable, especially if I contacted the Ministry personally," he said. "You'll need mostly Es in your OWLS in May to place in the prerequisite classes."

"I'm passing them all at the moment, aren't I?"

He summoned another obscure scroll, and unraveled it. "It says here you almost set loose a venomous tentacula in Herbology last week." he said. "And you neglected to bring your Charms textbook to class entirely this morning."

"Herbology doesn't count," Sariah said, brushing a stray dreadlock from her neck. "I meant, my other subjects. I've been trying really hard. What happened to Hufflepuffs can do it with hard work?"

Professor Weatherby shifted in his chair, moving his saffron robes as he crossed his arms. "Turning failing grades into passing ones is an achievement in itself. You should be proud of what you've accomplished so far. It's my job to guide you in this, and while I certainly encourage you to strive for NEWTs, it would also seem pertinent to set a backup plan also. Your OWL examinations are less than three months away."

Sariah willed her bottom lip to stay in place, instead of what was threatening to do: grimace, frown, tremble, and crumple. "What was that one you recommended to me then, the muggle relation thing?"

He blinked in surprise. "You didn't seem overly fond of a muggle relations job previously."

"Oh, I'm not," she said. "I think I just need the extra motivation to get those grades."

Then she walked out, without saying another word. There was nothing she could say that wouldn't land her in detention. Anxiety curled around in her stomach like worms.

Was Professor Weatherby right? What if it was already too late? She liked him, and genuinely enjoyed his Muggle Studies class. It would be pertinent to set a backup option also. Hearing the words coming from has mouth was like being hit with a thousand pine cones at once.

That was the first night she dreamt of working in the Muggle Relations office. Rachel Skellis kept walking past her cubicle, giggling under her breath until all she could hear was that infuriating giggle. Sariah had never wanted to hit someone with her car, but in her dream, she sat behind the wheel, revved the engine, and well, no one could outrun a car, could they?

***

Interviews continued all week, disrupting classes and cementing the mood of the castle. The serpents above the Great Hall couldn't be budged, darkening conversations simply by being there. 

Despite the internet having returned to the clearing, Sariah didn't dare risk slipping outside on Thursday: everybody seemed on high alert for suspicious activities. She stared longingly at her phone (powered off, and tucked out of sight in a flowerpot on the windowsill). Supernatural would have to wait. 

She'd also had no luck locating a tyre pump. After scouting a few floors tentatively, and then, emboldened, checking through the cupboards for all the Muggle Studies classrooms she could find, she'd hit a blank. A stern owl from her parents said they would not be attaching a type pump to an owl. Not in this weather. Not in any weather. It wasn't fair to the poor creature.

The serpents above the Great Hall were here to stay, hissing, and covered by a charmed navy curtain affixed to the ceiling. In Britta's words, the only good thing that seemed to come of it was the influx of support for the Hufflepuff quidditch team, who were playing against Slytherin on Saturday.

On Thursday night, after gloomily finishing her Herbology paper (Bowtruckles and evasive maneuvers if attacked), Sariah was practicing "Inflecto" on her own laces in the dormitory when an idea struck her. She'd only seen the Muggle Studies car on the quidditch pitch, so it made sense that any workshop or car supplies would be kept nearby. Her stomach fluttered with excitement. She rolled over to face Britta's bed. "Hey, Britta?"

Britta was brushing her hair vigorously, cursing as her brush caught on the tangles. The brushing and cursing stopped simultaneously. "Mhh?"

"Are you still watching the morning Hufflepuff practises?"

"Of course - the big game is on Saturday, so it'd be selfish not to turn up." Her smile wavered slightly.

"Do you mind if I come along tomorrow?"

Britta looked at her oddly. "Are you feeling alright, Sariah?"

"I'm fine. I just want to see what all the fuss is about."

She beamed,  her hairbrush so thoroughly stuck in her hair it practically levitated. "It'd be great to have you along then."