Late September.
Friday.
Headmaster's office, Hogwarts.
"Good evening, Professor!" Anne tossed her gray coat casually over the back of the chair as she sat down and waved at a few of the portraits on the wall.
"Good evening, Anne," said Professor Dumbledore, turning around with several old, thick parchment books in hand. "I heard about Miss Granger's birthday party, music, food, gifts. Quite lovely. The joys of student life often leave lasting memories."
"I thought so too…" Anne replied cheerfully, eyeing the books in Dumbledore's hands. "What are those?"
"These are for you," Dumbledore said, handing the books to her. "They're about the Dark Arts."
Anne took them, glancing over the titles: The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, In-Depth Dark Magic, The Side of Dark Magic You Don't Know. The last one was a thick, brown volume, bound in transformed lizard skin. The uneven pages and eerie design made it look particularly unsettling.
Advanced Secrets of the Dark Arts, read the title.
"I'll take them home and read them slowly," Anne said, stowing the books in her bag. "To defeat the Dark Arts, we have to understand them, analyze them. That's why you had Professor Snape give me special attention, right? Lately, he's had me in detention more than once. Not that I mind, I actually kind of enjoy it. His understanding of spells and potions is beyond anything I'd imagined…"
"As long as you're not secretly cursing this old man," Dumbledore smiled.
"Well, I'm already on board this ship, aren't I?" Anne shrugged. "By the way, have you found Mundungus yet? He stole Sirius's belongings, well, Harry's now. If Harry finds out, he'll be furious. Honestly, I've always said we should've enforced dual-layer security ages ago."
"That despicable old scoundrel dared to steal the Black family heirlooms?" growled Phineas Nigellus (Sirius's great-great-grandfather), before storming out of his portrait, likely headed to his frame at 12 Grimmauld Place.
Dumbledore frowned slightly. "Not yet. After your last discovery, he went into hiding. I suppose he's afraid to face me now. But for the time being, only Harry can access the contents of Grimmauld Place."
Anne nodded, then pulled out a stack of parchment from her bag. "Professor Lupin's updates on the werewolf infiltration came through. I've organized them, but there hasn't been much progress. Most of the werewolves still lean toward Voldemort. But there are a few worth approaching. I suggest you try speaking to them in person."
She grinned playfully. "You are held in pretty high regard by most British wizards, after all."
Dumbledore accepted the parchments and nodded as he skimmed through them.
"I've recently revisited the sixth installment's memories," he said, placing the pages on the table.
Anne immediately straightened. "You mean you've found something new?"
"Yes, something small. Something we all overlooked because it seemed so obvious," Dumbledore explained. "But I've come across new evidence that suggests otherwise."
"What is it?"
"In the wizarding world, just like in the Muggle world, one becomes of age at sixteen," Dumbledore began. "In the memories from the sixth installment, Harry was still underage. He only came of age in the seventh."
"You mean in the movies, it's seventeen?" Anne looked surprised. "But that doesn't make sense! That's a huge continuity error!"
Dumbledore looked at her over his half-moon glasses. "Anne, movies are movies. Books are books. Life is life."
"Ah, I've fallen into the trap of linear thinking again." Anne tapped her forehead. "I keep wanting to treat the movies as canon. Go on."
"Lily's protective magic, passed through blood, used Petunia's home as a sanctuary for Harry. It remained active until he came of age, his sixteenth birthday, this past summer. But Voldemort returned at the end of his fourth year."
Anne nodded, listening intently.
"Through a fortunate circumstance, I was able to extend the protective magic's effects. But only by six months," Dumbledore said. "Once it fades, Voldemort will learn the location of Privet Drive. Keeping Harry there after that would be pointless."
"So, the beginning of the seventh installment shows Harry coming of age, the magic fails, and the Order relocates him," Anne murmured. "Then we'll need to move Harry before the end of March next year?"
"That makes things much easier!" Her eyes lit up. "The Burrow has top-tier protections now. Voldemort doesn't know where it is, and even if he did, he couldn't get close. It's safe! We can move Harry there over the Easter holidays, straight from Hogwarts."
"Yes. But we'll still need to go to Privet Drive one last time during Easter," Dumbledore said. "Harry should say goodbye to his aunt and uncle."
Anne paused, a little dazed. "I almost forgot... Petunia's his only remaining family."
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Time passed, and October settled in. Hogwarts grew colder, and the weather worsened. After two days of sleet, Anne could barely drag herself out of bed, but with a mountain of work ahead of her, she had no choice.
Cold water on her face. Mint candy. That combination worked wonders to clear her head.
The Great Hall – Slytherin Table
Fanny looked up as Anne approached. "Huh? You actually left your warm little bed? I was just thinking about what breakfast to bring you."
"Not that shocking," Anne said, pulling out a thick accounting ledger from her bag. "I've got data to process, four books to finish by Monday, three essays to write, plus Professor Snape's assigned essay and potion brewing for detention."
Fanny gave her a look of pity. "Whew, good luck," she said, turning back to her book.
"I've noticed you reading a lot lately. What is it this time? Aren't you running that club of yours anymore?" Anne asked while helping herself to roast chicken and tomato-egg soup.
"This is more important right now!" Fanny said, showing Anne the cover.
Quidditch Through the Ages.
"Ohh, when's the first match of the season?" Anne asked, catching on.
"Not sure yet, but it's usually mid or late October," Fanny replied.
"Hmm, " Anne murmured between bites.
"But get this!" Fanny said with excitement. "The history of Quidditch is super interesting!"
"Is it?" Anne humored her.
Fanny nodded. "It says wizards in Europe were using flying broomsticks as early as 962 BC. And early broomstick games had the foundations of modern Quidditch…"
"Guess which ball was added last to the game: Quaffle, Bludger, or Snitch?"
"The Snitch?" Anne said, drinking her soup.
"Exactly! The Golden Snitch evolved from a magical creature called the Snidget."
"The protected one? Aaron told me it's illegal to catch them, 100 Galleon fine and two weeks detention if you're caught."
"That's the one!" Fanny flipped to Chapter 4. "Listen: 'As early as the 12th century, Snidget hunting became popular among wizards. Though they're now protected, they were once common in Northern Europe. Muggles rarely noticed them due to their speed and ability to hide.'"
"Eventually, their numbers dwindled, so Bowman Wright from Godric's Hollow invented a metal ball to mimic their flight. His Golden Snitch was the same size, weight, and agility. It had enchanted wings and couldn't leave the pitch. That invention completed the 300-year evolution of modern Quidditch!"
As Fanny finished excitedly, Anne licked her spoon clean. "That's really cool! You'd make a great guide, Fanny."
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By mid-October, the students finally got their first Hogsmeade weekend.
"I thought they'd cancel it with how dangerous things are," Fanny said.
Bundled tight with only her eyes and forehead visible, Anne nodded, her voice muffled behind a scarf. "Yeah… But it's nice to get some fresh air."
"More like you're excited to spend time with Hermione," Fanny teased. "Otherwise, you'd never leave your dorm."
Anne raised an eyebrow.
When Hermione appeared at the gate, her smile was a little forced.
"What's wrong?" Anne asked, moving beside her.
"That Potions book!" Hermione huffed. "Harry used a handwritten spell from it this morning, without knowing what it did!"
"And…?" Anne prompted.
"Anne! That could've been a restricted or dangerous spell! What kind of serious student scribbles a malicious curse in a textbook?"
"Hey, it was just a joke…" Ron cut in, glancing at the curious Fanny behind Anne. He spoke louder. "Harry just hung me upside down. No big deal. Like one of Fred and George's pranks."
Hermione glared at him, but Ron didn't back down. "You just don't like the Half-Blood Prince because his Potions notes are better than yours, he fixed all the textbook's errors."
"That's not it at all!" Hermione's cheeks flushed. "I just think using unknown magic without knowing what it does is reckless! And stop calling him 'Prince' like it's a title! It's just a stupid alias, and he doesn't seem like a decent person!"
Ron gave Fanny a look, See? Told you.
As Hermione looked like she might explode, Anne stepped in and hugged her. "Okay, okay. That 'Prince' guy is shady. Let's drop it, or I'm going to freeze solid standing here."
Just then, Harry called, "Come on!"
He was the last one being checked by Filch.
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"Was that really necessary?" Hermione muttered, though she did adjust Anne's cloak and scarf. "You're always so sensitive to cold."
"No idea, just born this way, I guess. I've always hated the cold," Anne said, flexing her gloved fingers. "Actually, I hate the heat, burns, and pain too."
She grinned. "I'm high-maintenance. Hermione, you won't ditch me, will you?"
Though joking, her eyes sparkled. Hermione blushed and tightened her grip on Anne's hand. "Who'd ditch you…"
At the village entrance, the group split up: Fanny headed to the Three Broomsticks, Harry and Ron to Honeydukes, and Anne and Hermione to the quill shop.
"I just saw Professor Slughorn head into Honeydukes…" Hermione said.
Anne was flipping through a cute notebook. "Then Harry's doomed. Slughorn's been after him for ages. I've been to his Slug Club once, but Harry hasn't gone at all."
"Right? Slughorn's asked about him several times. Harry always uses Quidditch as an excuse."
"Not for long," Anne smirked. "He's cornered this time."
"By the way," Hermione suddenly asked, "Why has Professor Snape been so hard on you lately? Five detentions?"
"Who knows?" Anne replied lightly. "Maybe he doesn't like Slytherins getting too friendly with Gryffindors. Can't scold your 'Chosen One,' so I'm the next best thing."
She paused, noticing Hermione frozen behind her.
Anne quickly stepped back and grabbed her hand. "Hey, I was just joking, Hermione. Don't worry about it."
"But what if that is why?" Hermione said. "Snape doesn't want Slytherins mixing with Gryffindors. He hates Gryffindors."
"Hey!" Anne chuckled. "Since when do you care about that? You were the one who kept chatting me up in first year, pulled me into Hagrid's dragon mess, cornered me before the end-of-year exams, dragged me into the Chamber of Secrets…"
"And last year, you followed me into the prefects' carriage, ignoring everyone else's stares. Then you and Harry wrecked the Ministry."
"That's different, " Hermione began.
"It's not," Anne said seriously. "Even if Snape is targeting me because of you, I'd accept that. You taught me courage, Hermione. I never had that before. You didn't care about houses, you believed in me."
Hermione muttered, blushing, "That's because you're you, Anne."
"Yes," Anne said, "and I'm also a Slytherin. Cunning, calculating, self-preserving. But you gave me the courage to take risks I'd never dreamed of."
She raised a brow. "Like confessing. And kissing you."
Before Hermione could react, Anne leaned in and kissed her.
When they broke apart, Hermione looked like she had something to say, but Anne quickly added, "Second of the three things I asked, don't ever bring up Snape's detentions again. It's not about you, okay?"
"Hmph," Hermione elbowed her playfully. "Slytherin through and through."
But she was smiling.
Bundled in layers, Anne felt nothing. Grinning, she grabbed Hermione's hand. "Come on, let's check out the back, maybe they've got some new books."
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The complete release can be accessed through Patreon.com/Crimson_Lore