෴ ✵ ෴

"𝙸𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚊 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖. 𝙸𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍."

─ 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘌. 𝘗𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯

෴✵෴

Nina would be lying if she said she's not going into potions with a biased opinion. For the past five years it had been her father teaching the subject, and she had grown accustomed to his way of doing things. Sure, she's used to teachers coming and going for Defense Against the Dark Arts ─ but that's Defense Against the Dark Arts. Any fool can wave around his wand and call that teaching defensive spells (at least that's the case with the way Dumbledore highers professors for the subject; Nina might even dare to say her father is the only one actually qualified for the job, except for, perhaps, Professor Lupin in her third year).

Potions class is more complex. It requires brain power, skill, patience ─ traits that few people actually have. Her father is a very flawed man, but at least he has those things. She doesn't want some old fop coming and taking over his classroom, his job. He's got another one, one that he favors to the old one ─ but, still. It's an intrusion. What does Professor Slughorn know about potions, anyway? If he's useless at the subject that's so near and dear to her heart, despite never taking it seriously before (she's never needed to, what with her father's favoritism and her own natural ability), Nina doesn't think she'd ever forgive Dumbledore for this higher.

Maybe that will be my incentive...

The Slytherins, Nina and four others ─ Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Julian Carter, and Theodore Nott (why is she the only girl?) ─ are naturally the first to show outside the classroom, since their common room is also in the dungeons. Next, being the second closest, are the Hufflepuffs; there's only two: Barbara Johnson and some boy. Then, it's four Ravenclaws Nina has never spoken to, followed by the Gryffindors: the Golden Trio, of course.

When Slughorn let's them in, everyone branches off: the Gryffindors and Hufflepuff boy at one table, Ravenclaws at another, and Slytherins at a third. Nina opts not to sit with her house mates, instead placing herself next to Barbara (in part because she doesn't want to be the only girl in a group of boys, and also to spite Slughorn for giving Barbara a nasty look when the girl entered).

The dungeon is a lot brighter than it had been the previous five years ─ Nina hadn't even realized they could have light down in the dungeons, but then again Slughorn could have just charmed it to look this way. It's far less dusty than when the place belonged to Nina's father, though, so that's something. Slughorn has a few dozen cauldrons scattered around, their contents filling the room with all sorts of aromas that make Nina sick (mixing potions is never a good idea, just a side note, but at least they all look like they've been brewed properly).

"Sir?" Potter says after Slughorn tells them to get their supplies out.

Slughorn turns to give him a curious look, as if he's going to say something spectacular. "Harry, m'boy?"

Potter, as it turns out, doesn't have anything spectacular to say, just, "I haven't got a book or scales or anything ─ nor's Ron ─ we didn't realize we'd be able to do the N.E.W.T., you see ─"

"Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall did mention... not to worry, my dear boy, not to worry at all. You can use the ingredients from the store cupboard today, and I'm sure we can lend you some scales, and we've got a small stock of old books here, they'll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts..." He gets two sets of books and scales, laying them in front of the Gryffindor boys; Nina almost loses it when she sees the book Potter gets.

It's the one her father had given her at the beginning of the year. She'd snuck down here during one of her free periods after her latest row with her father in Defense class and tossed the book into the cupboard, exchanging it for one of the lesser copies. It's her way of saying she doesn't need or want anything from him. (Alright, she might have leafed through his additions and copied down the most useful ones before chucking the book, but he doesn't need to know this. The spite is still evident; besides, she already figured out most of the shortcuts in potions for herself anyway).

"Now, then," Slughorn says. "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of things you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of 'em even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?" Before anyone can raise their hand, Slughorn turns his gaze on Nina, and she finds herself sinking in her seat. He doesn't notice. "Nina! Your father was the potions teacher for five years before me, and I'm willing to bet you've inherited his mastery at the subject ─"

"I'm adopted, sir..."

"Oh, well, all the same, I'm sure he's taught you a thing or two. You must know every single potion here." He smiles at her, looking hopeful. Nina winces. The rest of the class is watching. She had not prepared to be at the center of attention twice in one day.

It takes her a moment to form the words in her head. "Well, yes..."

"Then, I can think of no better person to ─"

"I don't like speaking for extended periods of time. Please, call on someone else..."

Slughorn looks disappointed, but he does move on. It's not long before Granger is raising her hand, and soon all his attention is on her as she shows off her own knowledge about the potions. Nina lets out a sigh, relaxing as soon as she's out of the spotlight. Barbara gives her a sympathetic smile but stays quiet about it, which is good because Nina doesn't want to have to talk about her "shyness" or whatever everyone else calls it. She doesn't like speaking in front of people. It's not a crime.

Granger gets Gryffindor thirty points in total for her knowledge, and she gains a new fan in Slughorn, who seems to think she's the greatest person ever to exist just because she can answer a few simple questions. It's fine. Nina isn't bitter. She just thinks the professor is a bit superficial.

"Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis," Slughorn's saying now. "Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong." That is an understatement. If botched, the potion will react more like Murphy's Law in a bottle. "However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavors tend to succeed... At least, until the effects wear off."

"Why don't people drink it all the time, sir?" one of the Ravenclaws asks. It's a stupid question for someone who's supposed to be in one of the intellectual houses (then again, Ravenclaw and Slytherin have always been on two separate wavelengths). The answer should be obvious.

Slughorn doesn't point this out the way Nina's father would have, and she can't help feeling a bit disappointed about that. People, in her opinion, ought to be called out when they say or do something stupid. "Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence. Too much of a good thing, you know... highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly and very occasionally..."

"Have you ever taken it, sir?" asks another Ravenclaw.

"Twice in my life," Slughorn tells the class. "Once when I was twenty-four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoons taken with breakfast. Two perfect days." He stares out into space for a good solid minute, perhaps recalling the events of his 'perfect days,' or perhaps he is just acting it up a bit to make the potion seem more endearing than it is. He comes back when he's sure everyone is hooked, or at least those who don't know Felix Felicis is little more than magical marijuana are, "And that is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson."

Oh dear...

Slughorn takes a small, glass bottle with a cork from his robes, showing it to the class. "One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis. Enough for twelve hours' luck. From dawn till dusk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt." Nina's father would never do something this ridiculous in his potions class. "Now, I must give you warning that Felix Felicis is a banned substance in organized competitions... sporting events, for instance, examinations, or elections. So the winner is to use it on an ordinary day only... and watch how that ordinary day becomes extraordinary." He grins like he's giving them the greatest gift known to wizard kind.

"So, how are you to win my fabulous prize? Well, by turning to page ten of Advanced Potion-Making. We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be enough time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of the Living Death. I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody." Nina scoffs to herself. She can brew Draught of the Living Death to perfection in her sleep (no, the irony in that statement is not lost on her). "The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!"

Nina must admit, the potions classroom has never been so quiet, so focused. Slughorn just might be onto something, offering a reward for a job well done. Her father still wouldn't have done it, though. Malfoy is working hard. Perhaps, he thinks the luck potion will help them with what they're supposed to do? The thought makes Nina's stomach churn.

I don't care who wins it, just don't let it be Malfoy...

Looking at the book is a bit redundant since Nina already knows this potion by heart (the book is centuries outdated), so she closes it, letting her mind drift, her body going through the motions all on its own. Everything else, for brief intervals, fades out of existence while she concentrates.

Nina is sure to grab extra ingredients. It's near impossible to work in potions without some nitwit trying to copy off someone else. When her father was the teacher, no one would dare copy off Nina ─ at least, not while he was looking ─ lest they unleash the wrath of Severus Snape, but now that he's their Defense teacher the other students are a bit bolder. She can already see their heads poking around their cauldrons, trying and failing to be discrete. They're either watching Nina or they're watching Granger. Cheaters. Nina devises a plan: every now and again she'll do something incorrectly ─ stirring improperly, adding a disproportionate amount of ingredients. Fixing it sets her back a bit, allowing Granger to take lead of the class, but Nina doesn't mind. She's not thick enough to try and get in the Gryffindor's way. Besides, it's a fun little game she's playing, and she rather enjoys it.

At some point, Nina gets curious and she glances over to see how Potter's faring with her father's book. At first, he looks annoyed with it, but around the time they're meant to cut the sopophorous bean (it's easier to crush it) he seems to take a liking to her father's notes. It's here that Nina remembers her father has tagged the book with that silly little nickname he's given himself (she assumes because she's never heard anyone call him the Half-Blood Prince, and he never said where it came from). There's a chance Potter might recognize her father's handwriting after having been taught by him for five years, but it doesn't look as if this is the case. At least, Nina figures that if he knew it was her father's book he'd pitch it in a fire at once. Given this is not what happens, she thinks it's a safe bet that he doesn't know.

Nina stifles a laugh, gaining a muddled look from Barbara next to her. She acts like she doesn't notice, knowing the Hufflepuff will just let it drop. Potter looks quite pleased with himself. To be fair, he's never been that grand at potions. Nina glances down at her own, brewed to perfection; after a quick look around, it's clear, even with Potter using the "Half-Blood Prince's" directions, hers is the best.

Oh, well. He gave me a laugh earlier, I'll let him have this.

Just before Slughorn calls time, Nina crushes one more bean, adding the extra juice to her potion and making it the slightest bit off (she can't have Potter win by a landslide, this is generous enough).

෴ ✵ ෴

It doesn't take Potter long to become Slughorn's new favorite person (go figure). By their fourth lesson, the professor is raving about how talented he is. He'd be doing the same for Nina, but she botches her work every now and again, not enough to hinder her marks, just enough to avoid suffering the same fate. (It only works so well, though, because he pulls her aside to let her know he's caught her ruining the potions on purpose. Thankfully, he doesn't call her out in front of the whole class.)

Incidentally, Potter is also in Nina's Charms, Transfiguration, and Herbology classes as well. Is he trying to be an auror as well? Nina recons he has a far better chance than she has, what with him being favored over everyone else, Gryffindor, and the ultimate hero in the eyes of the world... And what is she? A Slytherin. How many aurors have been in Slytherin? No, all the Slytherin's become evil. Bad. Dark witches and wizards. Death Eaters.

She tugs the edge of her sleeve as Malfoy drags her down the hall. Perhaps, it was a silly child's dream never meant to become reality ─ but, still. It's all she's ever wanted. Maybe they'll still let her try, if she does really well in classes, if she explains that none of this is her choice... But first, she has to ditch the ferret.

"If you don't let go of my arm right now, I'm going to stab you ─"

"Save your empty threats, woman, we have bigger things to worry about!" Malfoy snaps.

She glares at him, yanking her arm free. He whirls around, shooting her a look of annoyance when she stops moving. "What are we doing?"

Malfoy glances at Crabbe and Goyal, who he's been having follow behind them (not surprising, Malfoy doesn't go anywhere without his oafs). "I've just had an idea."

"A first for you, then?" Nina tries very hard to ignore the growing nausea. She tugs at her sleeves again. None of this is her choice...

"Oh, shut up. You know what I mean. It's about that thing we're supposed to be doing," Malfoy says.

Shut up, shut up, shut up!

"There's something in the Room of Requirement that can help us do it."

Shut the hell up!

The floor is sinking beneath her feet, all the flimsy hope she had seconds ago going right along with it. This is not how she planned her day. She was going to spend it on her studies. Transfiguration namely. It's the trickiest out of all the classes she's taking; Nina had wanted to have a thorough look through her copy of A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration. Perhaps, even ask Professor McGonagall for some tutoring? She's not sure, because she's always thought the woman to be a bit foul towards her. But now Nina might as well throw all that out the window. How is she supposed to read the damn book, how is she meant to study anything, if she's stuck doing this. Nina doesn't want to do this. She wants to be in the common room ready to pull her hair out like everyone else. She wants to be cursing the teachers under her breath for the workload she's been given the way she knows Fin would be if she were still here. And she wants Fin not to have moved away. She wants to spend hours on end with her in the library, until she's forced to pull her away to "get some fresh hair," because Fin is the only one allowed to do this and also the only brave enough to remind Nina to take a break. She wants to stay up late, pacing around her dorm room, worrying if she's done well enough on that last essay. She wants to take her N.E.W.T. tests, to pass them, and move on to the three years of extra training.

She doesn't want to walk around with this goddamn tattoo on her arm. She doesn't want to fear for her life, that she'll be killed on the spot if she's not moving fast enough for His liking. She doesn't want to lay awake at night with her mind drifting to her muggle friend. She doesn't want to worry about what happens if anyone finds out. She doesn't want to help Malfoy. Doesn't want to go to the Room, or to sneak around the school. She doesn't want to hide anything from everyone else. And she does not want to assist them in killing a man who has become something of a grandfather to her over the years. She doesn't want this.

Nina doesn't want to be a Death Eater. She wants to be an auror, but all her dreams can just be flushed down the toilet. She's not even sure why she's bothering. Before term even started she knew her life was over. It was stupid to think she could have anything else. A child's dream. That's all it'll ever be now.

All because of a goddamn tattoo.

Malfoy isn't waiting for her, already moving down the hall again. The oafs follow him, but Nina folds her arms over herself. I'm not doing it. I'm not moving. "And what if I decide I don't feel like going to the Room of Requirement?"

He stops only to turn and give her a look of sheer irritation that almost lifts her spirits. Almost, because it's much darker than anything he's ever given her. Almost because it looks a little deadly, threatening. "You don't have much of a choice do you?" She could hit him. Because he's right. There isn't a choice, for either of them ─ it's this or death. It's this, or He'll find everyone they've ever cared about and kill them. Fin, Oscar... Would He kill Nina's father? Probably, not. He's His favorite. But Fin, Oscar... If anything happened to them because of her...

"Fine," she hisses. "But I'm going to be a massive pain in the ass the whole time." There's no reason I have to make it easy for them. They want to make my life hell, I might as well return the favor.

"Yeah, well, what else is new?"

Crabbe and Goyal stand guard as Malfoy opens the Room. Nina is scowling the whole time Malfoy is leading her around a hill of junk ─ which is quite a generous depiction. It's more of a mountain. The Room, it seems, has transformed itself into some kind of storage unit/junkyard full of what Nina assumes is rejected items, things nobody wants anymore, or just items they wish to keep away for a later date. Everything from Wizard Chess boards, to rotting Chocolate Frogs, to bottles and old school supplies. She even spots a few muggle things like telephones and computers, but they don't work. All stacked to the ceiling, forming row after row of lost junk. How thrilling.

"Alright," Nina sighs. "What am I looking at?" Other than a waste of time.

"This." Malfoy gestures at a wooden cabinet sitting at the front of the junkyard. It's not much for looks, shattered in just about every place imaginable. The doors look as though they're about to fall off, and it's top is caving in, legs on their last stand.

"Ooh, wow. A piece of garbage!" Nina gasps. "How does that help us?" Like I even care.

"You like solving puzzles. Use your head!"

Nina rolls her eyes, but she regards the cabinet more closely. She imagines what it might look like all fixed up, where she might have seen it before. And then it hits... "Montage. This is the vanishing cabinet."

Oh, fuck.

Malfoy nods. He looks very proud of himself for finding this. "There's one in Borgin and Burkes, too. Montage got stuck between here and there when this one was broken. I've already set things up so we can slip them in using the one from the shop and ─"

"One problem." Nina's heart is pounding. She tugs at her sleeve. "This one is broken. They'll just get stuck, too." Could they get away with trapping a bunch of Death Eaters in a temporal rift between two cabinets? Perhaps, if they waited for them to go inside, then broke the other cabinet... No, that couldn't work. If Montage got out, they'll be able to as well. Nina's heart sinks a little more. This is hopeless...

"Well, obviously we've got to mend it first," Malfoy snips back.

I was afraid you'd say that...

"Great. You have the first go at it, then."

"You are utterly useless, you know that?" Nina doesn't respond. She's already walking off, holding her stomach. With any luck someone's stashed a bucket in here some place, otherwise she's going to be sick all over the floor. Her throat hurts. How the fuck has she wound up here? This is not where she's supposed to be. She's had everything planned out since she was eight, right down to the last detail. Perform well in class. Pass the O.W.L.s, pass N.E.W.T.s. Do auror training. It's so simple. How can it have all gone so wrong? Her father knew her plan. And that's her answer isn't it? Her father.

This is his fault.

He's the one who went crawling back to Stupid-Whats-His-Face. He's the one who brought Him into their home, into her room. He's the one who's forced her to get this goddamn tattoo. It's her father who wants to be a Death Eater, not her. But he can't bear the thought of being alone, of her no longer relying on him for everything, so he just has to drag her down right along with him, doesn't he? He not only has to ruin his own life but his daughter's as well.

This is his fault.

Nina kicks a stray can of magical hairspray. It skips across the floor, clanking loudly, until it hits something: an ugly old mirror. She might have walked right by it, continued cursing her father's name into the night without a care in the world, had it not been for what's inscribed on the frame. Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

Nina frowns. The fire building up inside her dies out in an instant, as curiosity takes over. She should turn around, go back to Malfoy and that stupid cabinet, but the mirror pulls her forward; before Nina even really registers why she's doing it, she's sitting in front of it. Only, she isn't greeted by her reflection. Instead, it's a woman she's never met before, never even seen before. She looks a bit worse for wear, as if she's been crawling around in the mud for fun. The woman's hair is matted, clothes torn and faded. Save for her bulging belly (she's pregnant, Nina gathers, about to slip into labor by the looks of it), she's thin as well, not in a healthy way either. Judging from the surroundings of the woman, she's not even in the same time period Nina is in. She'd guess some time in the 1920s, based on the Nash Touring the woman passes by.

The woman makes her way into an orphanage. The nuns do everything they can, hours upon hours of labor, screaming and crying. Nina winces at the sight. She's never getting pregnant. It's no use: in the end both the mother and her baby die.

"Why am I seeing this?" Nina glances back at the inscription. It must tell what this mirror does, but it's not written in any language she can recognize. Is it old, lost to the ages, maybe? It's a thought... But no. Something about the word 'erised' bothers her, like some sort of anagram... Nina finds herself staring at it until her eyes burn from lack of blinking. Then, it hits her. "It's a mirror..."

She scrambles into the junk pile, searching a minute until she finds an abandoned notepad and pencil (left behind by one of the muggle-born students, most likely). On the front page there's a line of gossip between two parties, but Nina doesn't stop to read it. She rips the page out, crumbling it up and tossing it aside. Then, she sets to work:

𝐸𝓇𝒾𝓈𝑒𝒹
𝒟𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓇𝑒

𝐸𝓇𝒾𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶
𝒟𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓈

𝐸𝓇𝒾𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶 𝑒𝒽𝓇𝓊
𝒟𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓈 𝓊𝓇𝒽𝑒

Hm. Well, that doesn't make any sense. Try again, Nina tells herself. She takes another look at the inscription. Desire is obviously a word; so is arts. 'Arts desire.' No. Not arts. It's hearts. The spacing is off. Nina jumps, her heart racing with this new thought.

𝐼 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓈 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓇𝑒

"Ha!" Nina grins, proud of herself for decoding the secret message. It's short lived, however, as a new thought comes to her. "But if you're showing me what I want most, why am I seeing this woman? I've never seen this woman before. Why do I care? Who is she? Why not show me as an auror instead? That's my life's ambition, after all. There's nothing I want more ─ well, except perhaps a world where He doesn't exist, but that's not..." She trails off.

Oh.

"This is his mum..."