By the end of the first month, Saturnine felt settled into her new routine. By this point, she had Professor Nine’s act nailed down. And if she were honest with herself, the job was growing on her. Being a teacher wasn’t half bad, and if she’d been allowed to give the classes as herself—she might have truly enjoyed it.

It was better than most of the jobs she’d held over the years, and it beat the time she had spent being the Ministry’s puppet. The only downside to her current situation was that there were days when she felt that, here, too, someone was pulling on her strings.

As she made her way to the puppeteer one late Wednesday afternoon, Saturnine strengthened her resolve and promised herself that she wouldn’t be leaving the headmaster’s office without having had her way. She hadn’t expected that she would have to go to Albus Dumbledore with the requests she was about to make. But she’d heard that being responsible for a child came with certain responsibilities, and she took her duty seriously. She only hoped the old scheming codger wouldn’t set too steep a price for his help.

She had thought Harry was doing well. He had certainly looked like it, the little cheat. He had fooled her good with his tough-guy act, and she’d had no clue the distress he was in until he broke down and confided in her the night before. While she had been missing their closeness something fierce, she hadn’t thought the lad was feeling just as bad. A grave oversight on her part that she was on her way to rectify.

And then there was Draco Malfoy, who apparently had problems of his own.

“Pumpkin lolly,” she muttered to the gargoyle standing guard at the bottom of the Headmaster Tower. The stone statue obligingly moved to the side, and she ascended the stairs quickly.

Upon entering the circular room that was the headmaster’s office, she focused on the man seated behind the enormous, claw-footed desk rather than stare at the collection of knickknacks that crowded the surrounding shelves. She paid the portraits of the old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames, even less attention.

“Lemon drop?” Headmaster Albus Dumbledore offered, pushing forward a crystal bowl full of candies. Without looking up, he motioned at her to sit in the closest chintz armchair. She declined both and stood standing near the desk.

She had caught the headmaster while he did his correspondence, and she let him finish the letter he was writing before addressing him. A fire crackled away merrily in the grate, warming up the late afternoon air, and she gazed at the flames to pass the time.

A contented sigh escaped the headmaster’s lips, and she returned her attention to the old man. He signed his name at the bottom of the parchment, rolled it up like a scroll, and sealed it with wax. Next, he stood and walked to the ornate wooden perch upon which sat a flamboyant phoenix.

The regal bird had crimson feathers on his body and a golden tail as long as a peacock’s. At his master’s request, Fawkes dutifully stretched out a leg. Once the missive was secured to it, the mythical creature disappeared in a flash of fire.

Albus Dumbledore returned to his seat, eyes twinkling slightly behind his half-moon spectacles. “An unexpected visit, but a pleasant one. What may I do for you, Professor Nine?”

“Sir,” she said, deciding to cut the niceties short. “Two things: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.”

“Ah.” Dumbledore smiled. “A most entertaining pair, those two. And what have they done now?”

“Harry thinks Draco is up to something,” she started. Then she told the headmaster everything she had heard from the young Gryffindor. “I don’t know how much stems from their antagonistic relationship and how much is truly relevant,” she finished at last. “But I believe it bears further investigation.”

Dumbledore remained silent a moment longer, lost in his thoughts as he twirled the tip of his long beard around a finger.

“I would suggest,” she continued, in the same professional tone, “that perhaps the Head of Slytherin House might discreetly look into it and let you know if he’s noticed anything odd going on with his prefect.”

At that, Dumbledore’s blue eyes lifted before narrowing at her. “And what makes you think the Head of Slytherin House would agree to such a thing?” he asked. There was no denying the slight mirth in the old man’s tone.

“He would if you asked him to,” she replied, keeping hers in check. “He works for you and the Order of the Phoenix, does he not?”

“That he does.” The headmaster nodded. “And if it were any other student, I wouldn’t think twice about it. But young Mister Malfoy is a special case, and I do not think that asking the boy’s own godfather to spy on him would be the wisest course of action.”

Saturnine failed to contain her surprise. “Draco’s his godchild?”

The older wizard nodded again. “I take it you didn’t know.”

She shook her head before sitting down in the armchair she had refused earlier. That was unexpected. She was aware of the Malfoys’ position in their society and couldn’t understand how her brother could have become so close to Lucius and Narcissa that they would entrust their only child’s safety to him, should the worst happen.

It wasn’t that she didn’t think Severus could do a good job at it, but she knew what people like the Malfoys thought of blood purity. They would certainly think twice before bestowing that type of responsibility on any Half-Blood.

“How come?” she asked at last, failing to make sense of it all. “I mean, I think I remember Lucius and Severus knowing each other back in the days. But I would never have thought the Malfoys would allow any relationship with, well—someone like us.”

“A fair assessment,” Dumbledore agreed. “But Lucius Malfoy does what benefits Lucius Malfoy.”

“Exactly. And I don’t see what Lucius has to gain by linking his family to ours.” Saturnine had no illusions; she knew full well which background she came from. And it couldn’t have been further removed from that of Wizarding Britain’s richest family.

“Allow me to explain, then.” The headmaster leaned back more fully in his chair before resting both hands atop his desk. His left was hidden underneath a blue glove and seemed dead to the world. “Draco, as you know, was born one year before Severus got his position at Hogwarts. A position he took under direct order from Lord Voldemort.”

Saturnine nodded, showing she knew that much already.

“But what you may not know is that Severus tried applying for a job here long before that. Still under the same master’s orders, of course.”

What has that to do with anything? she wondered, and then the chips fell. “Lucius knew Severus would get the job eventually. He counted on it. He wanted someone beholden to him amongst the staff when the time came for his progeny to start his education here.”

“Precisely,” Dumbledore nodded. “Another of Lucius’ ploys to secure his son’s position in our society and further advance the Malfoy line.”

Saturnine shook her head in disbelief. “What a conceited jerk. Does Severus know that?” she asked. Then she answered it herself. “What am I saying? Of course he knows.”

“You understand now why it may not be wise to ask him to spy on Draco? Despite it all, Severus has a certain fondness for the boy.”

She nodded. “I’ll monitor Draco myself. Could you discreetly ask some of the other professors to do the same?”

Dumbledore nodded in agreement, and silence fell over them. Well, that was half of her problems solved. But it had been the easy half, and she knew it.

“I believe you wanted to ask something else?” the old man said, eyes twinkling again.

In for a Knut, in for a Sickle, she thought, bracing herself. “I need your authorisation to give Harry Potter remedial classes.”

“Whatever for? Surely if there is one student here who doesn’t need help with Defence Against the Dark Arts, it’s Harry Potter. In this subject, he rather enjoys being the one doing the tutoring, if I recall.”

“I’m well aware of that, Headmaster.” She sighed, deciding once more on a direct course of action. “Harry has requested the opportunity to spend some time alone with me, and short of giving him detention upon detention, it’s the only thing I can think of.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said before seeming to consider the matter for a long time. Saturnine awaited with bated breath. “Very well. I will grant it—providing your time is put to good use.”

There it is, she thought, the price tag. “I’m sorry, sir?”

“Legilimency. I would like you to teach the boy.”

Saturnine felt her blood boil at once. She sat up straighter and tried maintaining her composure. It was a conversation they’d already had. Well, they hadn’t been able to finish it, but she had clearly expressed her opinion on the matter. That the headmaster would revisit this subject when she was asking him for a favour…

Saturnine narrowed her gaze at the old man and fought to keep her lips locked.

“You don’t like me much, do you?” Dumbledore asked, unsettling her further.

Saturnine saw no point in lying to him and forced words past clenched teeth. “No, I don’t.”

“Pity,” he said, as if they were discussing the weather. “Any reason why?”

The dark-haired witch tried hard to keep her tone as level as his had been. “All due respect, sir, but you’re not half as wise as you think. I know that what you do for the war effort is important, and I respect that—truly, I do. And I know you must make difficult decisions sometimes. But you have made the wrong choices more than once—some of which I will never forgive you for.”

If anything, the seasoned wizard seemed to enjoy her honesty. She supposed not many people had the gall to tell the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot that he was fallible. “And you think this is another of those mistakes?”

“Yes, I do.” It was hard to keep her tone in check now. “Actually, it may be the most foolhardy plan you’ve ever come up with. It would take years for anyone to get a good enough grasp on Legilimency to hunt down a specific memory undetected. And to want to attempt it on someone like the Dark Lord? I will not have Harry exposed to whatever filth resides in that madman’s head.”

Dumbledore grew solemn again. “I have heard your opinion on the matter and take it into account,” he said. “However, I believe that Harry and Tom share a unique connection—one that goes deeper than our understanding. With the proper training, it could allow Harry unprecedented access, and we need this information.”

“No!” she said, tone rising. And it wasn’t the only thing rising. That familiar surge of feelings of protectiveness was stirring close to the surface.

“You’re not the boy’s mother, Saturnine.” The headmaster’s tone of voice was so resolute that it might as well have signified their conversation was over.

That was a low blow, and it incensed the witch further. “No, but Harry’s in my care. I’m in charge of his safety because you put me there—sir. I am merely doing what you’ve asked me to do. And my answer’s still no.”

“I could reassign you,” he said, lips barely moving.

She glared darkly at him. Dumbledore or no Dumbledore, if the older wizard thought he could take the lad away from her, he was in for a rude awakening. Her fingers tightened into fists at her sides.

“Don’t you dare,” Saturnine warned him in a tone so low, it was little more than a growl. Her magic flared at the thought of losing Harry, and she allowed it to surge. The air in the room sparkled with the kind of static electricity that heralded an oncoming storm. Parchments and quill rustled on the old man’s desk as an unseen wind disturbed the stillness within the locked room.

The dark-haired witch stood up, body poised for a fight. She didn’t mind the power display and kicked it up a notch. She could have trashed the office within seconds if she wanted, but that would have shown a lack of restraint. She knew that controlled discharges of power impressed more than wild, erratic surges. The flames in the grate grew more intense as the skies darkened outside the windows. A moment later, the rain started rattling down the glass as an impossible breeze blew through the room.

“Think carefully about what you’re doing, Headmaster,” Saturnine cautioned, her tone cold but controlled. “I do not think you have the time or the resources to be engaging in another fight. But try to take Harry from me, and you will have another war on your hands. You may think you know me, but I assure you that you don’t.” She paused to make sure her following words would sink in. “You do not want me as your enemy.”

“My dear Saturnine,” Dumbledore said in the same amicable tone he had used before. “I may not know you that well, that is true, but I know Severus. And the two of you are more alike than I thought.” He smiled at her as if she hadn’t just threatened to wage war against him. “Severus is always so calm, so controlled—much like you, but when he decides to engage, when he commits to a decision, there’s no stopping him. I see that is a quality you both share.”

Saturnine stood unmoving as Dumbledore spoke. He could keep on spouting nonsense all evening if he wanted. She wouldn’t back down an inch.

“Very well,” he added, with a smile that felt forced. “I will respect your decision in the matter.”

The old, weary professor stood up, and she kept her gaze trained on him as she asked, “But?”

“But,” he continued, a twinkle returning to his bright blue eyes, “we still need to find and destroy the Horcruxes.”

Always a price to pay, Saturnine thought as she closed her eyes long enough to dispel the angry clouds that had formed atop the Headmaster Tower. The flames in the grate died at a flick of her wrist. But she kept the breeze going to show her displeasure at the task she had been given. “You’ll have me do that, I suppose.”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore said before straightening up his desk and stacking all the loose parchment into a neat pile that he weighted down with the bowl of candies. The quill disappeared into a drawer. If anything, this seemed to amuse him.

Saturnine was tempted to send the delicate crystal bowl crashing into a wall. She had just condemned herself to search for a couple of needles in a gigantic haystack of tedious paperwork. It would take an insane amount of time and meticulous research to locate the Horcruxes. But she had no choice but to do it.

“I’ll need help,” she said, relaxing her stance a little.

“I’m sure Remus will be more than happy to aid you,” Dumbledore said. “You know where to find him, I assume.”

Of course she did. And of course, if she were the one to ask for that huge favour, her old friend would readily say yes. Damn the old codger for making her feel as if she were a chess piece. He’d used the same tactic to get her to join the Order and assume the Defence position. Only it had been Severus’ name he had dangled in front of her like a juicy carrot that day. She would be damned if she would let him use Harry that way now. Wordlessly, Saturnine turned on her heel and left the circular office—slamming the door on her way out. That childish display, she hadn’t been able to hold back.

Despite having had her way, she felt as if she’d just lost a battle. Damn you, old fool, she thought on her way down. I won’t let you use Harry like that.

Coming to a decision, she realised she needed a sure way to counter the scheming headmaster, should it come to that. It should be possible to enquire discreetly after adoption procedures without the greatest wizard of modern times hearing about it.

As she walked past the gargoyle again, a little voice at the back of Saturnine’s head wondered if this wasn’t the outcome the headmaster had sought all along.