#jacob hexley

Luckily, she was fast. The were-waves were no match for her. Again and again, she ran in from the water, reaching the dry pebbles just in time. Each wave lapped at the shore behind her, each werewolf retreated back into the shadows of the sea from whence they came.

It was a good game, for a while, but it soon became repetitive. It would have been more fun if she had a friend to play with her, or her brother, but Jacob was not in the mood for playing today. He was sitting further up the beach, a book open on his lap in front of him. He had been reading the same book for longer than she had been running from the seafoam. Surely, he must be bored by now, she thought. Maybe she could convince him to play with her after all.

Jacob Hexley was almost ten years Artemis’ senior, and in her opinion, there was no finer big brother in the world. He was cleverer than any adult she had ever met — except for maybe Daddy, but she wasn’t sure she could count Daddy anymore — and a lot more fun. He alone knew how to fold paper napkins into flying dragons, he always snuck Artemis’ cauliflower onto his plate so she wouldn’t have to eat it, and he invented the best games.

The only downside to having him as a brother was that he spent more time at Hogwarts than he did at home. Artemis only ever got to see him at Christmas and Easter and, as was the case now, during the summer holidays. When she was really, really small, it hadn’t been so bad. Her mum had been happy and good at making up games and telling bedtime stories. But, since Daddy died, the games and the stories had become fewer and further between. Nowadays, she spent most of her time just finding ways to entertain herself whilst she waited for Jacob to return home.

And now that he was home, he was too busy reading to pay her attention properly. That simply wouldn’t do. She turned away from the sea and traipsed over the pebbles towards her brother, sitting quietly on the beach with an open notebook on his lap.

“What’s that?” Artemis asked, leaning over Jacob’s shoulder and squinting at the peculiar writing in the book.

Jacob chuckled. “None of your business, that’s what it is.”

But he couldn’t have minded Artemis looking, because he did not close his book. Perhaps it could be a bit of her business, after all. Still, she couldn’t read what was written. Not because she couldn’t read, of course she could, she was a whole eight years and two months old now, but because the writing wasn’t in English. Most of it wasn’t even in the alphabet.

“What are all those funny letters?”

“They’re not letters, they’re runes,” Jacob told her. Artemis frowned, and Jacob explained further. “It’s a really old language. You know about different languages, right?”

Artemis rolled her eyes. “Obviously.” She wasn’t stupid. Still, she didn’t know absolutely everything. “Where do they speak runes?”

“They don’t, not anymore.”

“What? So why are you learning it?”

“Because it’s interesting.”

That was a matter of opinion, thought Artemis. She screwed up her face.

“It’s a waste of time learning a language that no one else speaks,” she told Jacob. “You should do something else instead, like play with me in the sea.”

“Of course, playing in the sea is never a waste of time,” Jacob replied. The way he spoke made it sound a little like he was making fun of Artemis, but he ruffled her hair like he always did and turned to a fresh page in his notebook. With his quill, he wrote two words in his spidery handwriting: SLOSHY LIMES.

“What does—”

“Look.”

Artemis did so, and with a wave of his wand, the letters on the page of Jacob’s book wriggled around to form two new words: HELLO MISSY. Artemis giggled.

“Hello, Jacob,” she replied. “Do another one.”

“In a minute. Did you see what I did there? You didn’t know what I’d written, because I’d jumbled all the letters around. But now you know that if ever you see the words ‘sloshy limes’ again, you’ll know that it’s someone saying hello to you. But no one else will know that, only you and me.”

“So, it’s like a secret code.”

“Exactly. Same with the runes. If I know someone else who has learned about runes, I can use them as a code.”

Now, Artemis understood why it might be interesting to learn about runes. If Jacob knew about them, and she learned about them, she could share his secret code.

“Teach me how to do runes,” she told her brother, who laughed. “What?”

“It’s a whole language, Missy. It takes years to learn properly. But okay.” He picked up a pebble from the beach and pointed his wand at it. Tiny, funny letters appeared on the pebble. “In the olden days people wrote runes on stones. They didn’t have room for lots of letters to make words, so each symbol is one word.” He showed Artemis his pebble. “This rune means the sun. This one means water. This one means child. Here you go. You can keep it.”

As he handed the pebble to Artemis, she frowned at the little symbols. “How do you know what symbol means what word if there aren’t any letters?”

“You memorise them.”

“Are there lots of different symbols?”

“As many as there are words,” said Jacob, as if it were simple. It was not simple. There must have been hundreds or thousands or even zillions of words in the world. Artemis’ mind boggled at the thought of memorising each and every one. Maybe runes were not for her, after all.

Still, she did like the idea of a secret code.

“Maybe it would be better to stick to the jumbled up letters,” she said. “Can you do another one now?”

Jacob obliged. OWL ACQUIRED IN? he wrote.

But though Artemis stared at the letters and thought so hard her eyes and head started to ache, she could not unjumble the letters without her brother’s help. Eventually, Jacob had to use his wand to help her.

LIQUORICE WAND? the letters now spelt out. Jacob reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of sweets.

Artemis took one and bit into it. It was tough and chewy and more sour than it was sweet, and she wasn’t entirely sure that she liked it. She would definitely have preferred to have had an ice cream. But liquorice was Jacob’s favourite, so it had to be good. She continued to gnaw on the liquorice wand anyway, digging her feet into the pebbles and looking out at the sea. The waves had calmed a little, as if the werewolves were resting, waiting for her to return so they could try to catch her again. The sun was high in the sky, and a salty-smelling breeze was cooling her bare legs, and her favourite person in the whole wide world was by her side.

“I wish it could be summer all the time.”

“There isn’t any point in wishing for things, Missy,” Jacob replied. “Wishing never changes anything.”

“I guess. But if it was summer all the time then you would always be here and we could come to the seaside and play and eat sweets every day.” Though Jacob smiled, he did not look overly excited by the idea. Artemis sighed. “It’s so boring without you and Ma is sad. I mean, she’s always sad now, but she’s definitely more sad when you’re not here. Is she sad because of Daddy, do you think?”

“Yes,” said Jacob. “So we have to look after her, don’t we?”

It struck Artemis that this was a peculiar idea, that she should be the one looking after her mother. Surely, it should have been the other way around? But Jacob always knew best, and he was good at looking after everyone. Maybe she could be good at looking after people too, even if she was only small. Yes, she was certain that she could. She gave Jacob a definite nod of her head.

Her liquorice wand was not even half finished, but the taste of it had not grown on her. She was reminded yet again why she only ever ate the stuff when Jacob was around. Tired of working hard to chew the sweet, and even more tired of sitting still, she jumped to her feet and pointed the remnants of her liquorice wand at Jacob.

”On card!”

Jacob laughed, but he didn’t get up. Artemis sighed again.

“Come on, Jacob. Play with me.” She widened her eyes and tilted her head to one side. “Please?”

Remembering her manners must have done the trick, because finally, Jacob closed his book and stood up. He pointed his own liquorice wand back at her. ”Titillandus!”

“What does that spell do?”

Jacob grinned. “It’s the tickling charm,” he told her, before running at her with his arms outstretched and fingers wriggling.

Marble columns held up the high ceiling and lined the walls. One wall consisted almost entirely of an open faced fireplace that roared and crackled. The dining table itself was a deep brown black wood that was polished and shone in the light of the hanging chandeliers above. It was so long that it could comfortably seat ten people on both sides.

Eloise took a seat next to her father Corban and a few chairs down from the head of the table where Lucius Malfoy currently sat. His wife Narcissa and son Draco sat to the side of him. Also nearby was Bellatrix Lestrange, sister to Narcissa. A few other people she knew took their places along the table, Neira and Roland Wilson among them. Leaning forward, Eloise could just see the opposite end of the table. A shiver ran down her exposed back as she saw the long white hair and sharp features of Eme Amaranthine staring back at her.

Her attention was caught as the heavy wooden chair to the right of her was pulled out and a man with chiseled cheekbones and piercing eyes sat down. He glanced at Eloise out of the corner of his eye as he unfolded a napkin and placed it neatly upon his lap, his eyes lingering on her legs for just a second longer than required.

“I do not believe we’ve had the honor of meeting. Alphard Farrier,” he announced suddenly, turning in his chair and holding a hand out.

“Eloise Yaxley,” she countered back in her best friendly voice, a polite smile on her face.

She was keenly aware of who he was. He worked in the Ministry for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. In fact, he was just below her father in rank. Clearly this was a play for power. He was aiming to get nice and friendly with his boss’s daughter. That was something she could arrange as he was the closest person next to her father that she could weasel some information out of.

“Oh yes, how could I have not known. My father talks all about you!” Eloise raved, turning in her chair to face him. “He said you were indispensable to him these past few months with the investigation into the missing Azkaban prisoners.

“Is that so?” Alphard mused proudly, twirling his wine around in his glass before taking a sip.

“I’m curious, did you ever catch them?” She leaned forwards so that he was in range of her perfume. It was her own special Amortentia perfume. Eloise wondered what he could smell.

“Not yet, but we have a good idea about how they’ve managed to do it. The apparition point is being monitored so the next time they try it we will have them,” he replied after breathing deeply.

“Delightful. You’ll have to let me know when you do so we can share a glass of champagne in celebration,” Eloise smiled and gently placed a hand upon his shoulder before turning back in her chair, their conversation coming to an end.

Her attention was drawn to some nearby conversations as she turned back to her dinner. She heard some talk about the inadequacy of the Gringotts goblins and boasts of children’s accomplishments at Hogwarts under the new Headmaster.

Further down the table the Malfoy’s falling from grace were discussed at great length while at the opposite head of the table, where Eme Amaranthine was sitting, no one seemed to be talking much at all.

“Bellatrix and Narcissa must be relieved to hear about the death of Ted Tonks. It was such a disgrace that their sister tainted the family's pure blood with muggle blood,” Roland Wilson muttered quietly to the people next to him.

“I still don’t know why they insisted on bringing the rest of his group here as prisoners. They would have been better off dead along with Tonks and Cresswell,” his wife Neira chimed in with a sneer.

“Lord and Lady Wilson, how’s your family?” Eloise interrupted, her knife dancing around her fingers playfully and a smile upon her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You have two young sons, I believe? I hope they are in good health,” she mused, cutting a piece of steak and bringing it up to her mouth using her knife instead of her fork.

“They are quite fine, thank you,” Roland answered apprehensively but with a smile upon his face nonetheless.

“I apologize but I can’t help but wonder, Lord Wilson. I’ve heard a rumor going around about your own sister Mirai mingling about with your own house elf and producing a child. That wouldn’t happen to be true, would it?”

A few guests nearby gasped and whispers started to cascade down the table like dominoes. Panic flashed in Roland’s eyes but his smile remained.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you are talking about. Whoever you heard that preposterous rumor from was clearly mistaken and needs to be informed otherwise,” he rambled, turning to those nearest to him to quell the rush of gossip.

His wife Neira gave Eloise a burning glare of hatred before joining her husband in the efforts to repair their reputation.

The rest of the dinner passed in a rush of gossip and political debates that Eloise had no interest in. Her father’s mood, along with most of the guests, started to deflate when they decided that the Dark Lord himself would not be attending after all. She rolled her eyes at how hopeful her father was to have a chance to suck up to the “greatest wizard to ever exist”, in his own words.

Before she knew it, it was nearing 8 pm and the dance had started. Couples were waltzing in the ballroom, the long gowns sweeping across the black marble floors.

Eloise was walking around the edge of the dance floor as suddenly she was met with a wall of white. It was Eme Amaranthine, his long hair cascading like a waterfall down his dark red-purple velvet suit. His eyes narrowed down at her and his mouth cracked into a smirk upwards.

“Would you do me the honor of a dance, Lady Yaxley?” His deep silky voice pierced through the noise of the music and chattering voices and he held his hand out towards her.

Eloise smiled and took his hand, forcing down her revulsion and they started to elegantly waltz across the ballroom. He leaned in close and once again Eloise wondered what he could smell. She avoided eye contact as much as possible but she felt his cold steel gray eyes scanning her face intently. He towered over her and looked down upon her in a similar manner to how her own father used to study and judge her as a child.

Panic started to well up in her chest but she pushed it away. She almost felt like he could see right through her lies and deceit. Never before had she met someone just as skilled in deception. Eme had hundreds of years to polish his silver tongue and insight. Any moment now he could discover that she was really a spy for the Order and the Resistance.

Eloise’s eyes darted around as she scanned for any excuse and her brain calculated possible escape routes if the worst happened.

“Mind if I cut in?” A handsome dark haired man stood to the side of them, his hand resting on the arm of Eme.

Eme’s face was hard to read as he glanced down at the hand upon his arm, but he relented with a bow to Eloise and then sauntered away. Eloise’s shoulders slumped as she released the tension she wasn’t aware she had.

“He was dancing with you for far too long for my liking,” the man whispered in her ear as they spun around together.

“I pity your wife if you think a minute is a long time,” Eloise retorted coolly.

“Luckily for you, I don’t have a wife,” his chest vibrated with a deep chuckle.

“Jacob Hexley”

“Eloise Yaxley,” she sighed, tired of the endless polite introductions of the night.

“Curious things going on in your head, darlin’. Would be a shame if anyone found out,” he breathed, his hand caressing her cheek. “You really shouldn’t keep your mind open like that with such precious secrets inside.”

Eloise’s heart plummeted and she swallowed hard. “What do you want?” She hissed back.

Jacob flashed a grin and then in one quick movement he looped his arm around her waist and tugged her off the dance floor, down a hallway, and then pushed her into an empty room, closing the door behind them.

Eloise whirled around and slammed him up against the wall, her arm choking his neck. “Do that again and I’ll give you an intimate lesson in slow acting poisons,” she threatened.

“As much fun as that would be, how about we just trade intel instead?” Jacob smirked, his voice hoarse from the pressure on his windpipe.

Eloise squinted suspiciously but pulled her arm back and instead rested it up against the wall to the side of his head. “Talk.”

“You work with the Resistance, am I right? You wouldn’t happen to know my dear sister, would you?”

“And what if I did?”

“I would ask you to deliver her a message. Tell her she isn’t safe. She needs to stop her work immediately.”

“What do I get in return for this generous act?” she mused with a head tilt.

“I would tell your companions to be careful with who you deal with. Many stores are being monitored, a certain potion shop among them.”

Eloise considered the information for a second before footsteps in the hallway drew their attention. The door handle twisted and before it could open, both Jacob and Eloise acted identically, pulling each other in.

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry!” A woman rambled an apology at the sight of the two of them entangled in an act of passion. She poorly hid a smile as she retreated and closed the door. It was likely she was off to spill the new gossip to anyone she could find.

Eloise knew the woman as Dahlia Selwyn-Black. By the end of tonight, it was guaranteed that the entire Black family and many others would know about Corban Yaxley’s daughter's affair with Jacob Hexley. None of that bothered her, however. Let them fucking gossip. Besides, she would rather them talk about her love life than her allegiance.

Once the woman was safely gone, they broke apart and Eloise walked to the door without a second glance.

“Will you tell her?” he spoke up before she could leave. “Please.”

“I promise.”

She pulled open the door and walked back down the hallway, her heels clicking on the marble floor. An older man walked down the hall on the opposite side, he wavered and steadied himself on the wall.

“You’re quite a pretty sight, aren’t you girl?” He grinned and his words slurred with intoxication.

Eloise rolled her eyes and kept going but as she passed by him he reached out and grabbed her by the thigh and pulled her towards him. Eloise’s eyes flashed and she drew her wand, pressing the metal spike at the pommel of it against his carotid artery. She could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Try it,” she hissed and then shoved him against the wall, continuing down the hallway in a rush.

She got all the information she needed so there was no reason to stay any longer. Her father could stay all night if he wanted, she didn’t give a shit. She was done with feinting amusement in men for the night.

Jacob kept his own hood up, despite the fact that the station platform was dark and deserted. Tonight, of all nights, he did not want to be seen. Tonight, he wished to become as much of a shadow as the Dementors circling the castle, as much of a shadow as he was of his former self.

Would he have been ashamed of himself, had he known what he would go on to do, the sacrifices he would eventually make? Probably, was the honest answer. A much younger Jacob — the Jacob he had been when he first laid eyes on Hogwarts castle — would have thought his actions unthinkable. They were unthinkable. He was ashamed by them.

But that didn’t mean that he regretted them.

He was sorry for what he had done to Duncan. He hadn’t wanted Duncan to die. He had loved Duncan. The problem was, he loved his sister more. And when it came to the point where he had to make a choice, he had chosen Artemis. He would always choose Artemis. And that was why she was now in danger.

The Vaults demanded the price of a life, the one most dear to the person who wanted to open them. For Jacob, that life was Artemis’s. He had, until recently, assumed that the feeling was mutual, that his was the life most dear to her. It hurt him to know that he was wrong, that she no longer cared for him as much as she did for others, but he couldn’t afford not to accept the fact. Patricia had told him that, that night by the lake. And Patricia would not have lied. She, like Jacob, knew just how much was at stake.

The war had overshadowed his entire childhood. He remembered the fear, death, despair. He could not stand by and let that darkness take its hold on the world again. The Vaults needed to be opened, the power within them had to be discovered. They had to have their life — just one life, given for the good of many.

But Jacob couldn’t give them Artemis. If he did, then his mother’s misery would have been for nothing. Duncan’s death would have been in vain. It had to be someone else.

He wouldn’t give up the one he loved the most. So, Artemis would have the one she loved the most taken from her. It was the only way. It had to be done. Jacob knew that, but he still couldn’t bring himself to be the one to do it. He could plot it, certainly, the blood could be on his hands. But it couldn’t be done by his own hand.

Patricia had no such qualms. Patricia could do it. She was willing to do it. They had organised it, just so. Artemis would be sent into the forest with her friend. Patricia would be waiting for them, just as Jacob was now waiting for Patricia. She would be the one to strike the killing blow, the one that would make certain that Artemis would be the one to fulfill the prophecy, and not the one to serve as a sacrifice.

If all went to plan.

“I am willing to play by your rules,” Patricia had told him, “but I warn you, Jacob. If your plan doesn’t work — if your sister decides to come without her friend — then I will take her instead.”

Godric, he hoped it all went to plan. He had made moves and countermoves to ensure that it did so. Because he knew that Patricia Rakepick was as good as her word when it came to the Cursed Vaults.

She should have been there by now. She had agreed to meet him at the station as soon as the deed was done. It was past midnight — though the station clock made it two hours earlier — and there was still no sign of her.

There was, however, a bright white light at the other end of the platform. Jacob shielded his eyes as he looked at it directly, squinting until he was able to make out the shape of a large creature within it, powerful and feline. A lioness. The fog furled away from it, leaving the air around the white lioness clear. With the darkness and the fog gone, Jacob could see her. Patricia.

She was following behind the lioness Patronus, her footsteps perfectly in time with its padding, prowling paws. Her wand was elevated, but her head carried low, her red hair falling forward over her shoulders and shining in the silvery light.

Jacob’s legs shook as they carried him over to meet her. He opened his mouth to ask her what had happened, but no sound came out. It wasn’t often that words failed him, but now they did.

Words never failed Patricia Rakepick. Her voice did not even tremble as she spoke to him.

“It is done.”

“And Artemis?” Jacob said. “Is she okay? Is she hurt? Is she…”

“Your sister is alive,” was Patricia’s reply.

Jacob felt so limp from relief, he was surprised that he was able to stay standing. But Patricia was not done.

“But she is not okay. She is hurt.” Before Jacob could ask her how badly, Patricia continued, “She will always be hurt, after this. You understand that, don’t you, Jacob?”

Of course Jacob understood. “Better that than dead.”

Patricia only laughed. It was a cold and harsh sound, and it sent a shiver through Jacob’s whole body. He did not know what she could possibly find so funny.

“Oh, Jacob. You really do think that you’re doing the right thing, don’t you?”

“I am doing the only thing.”

“I disagree,” said Patricia. “Do you know what I think?”

Jacob shook his head. “Never.” Patricia had always been exceptionally talented at Occlumency.

“I think it’s ironic, the fact that you claim to love your sister so much that you will commit atrocities in the name of sparing her life, but at the same time you are willing to put her through a pain that you can’t imagine facing yourself.”

“It isn’t… That is not why I’m doing it.”

“Isn’t it?” Rakepick cocked an eyebrow. Jacob didn’t respond. “I really hope that you know what you’re doing.”

“I do,” Jacob told her. “She can do it. I know she can do it.”

Patricia did not look convinced. “Perhaps,” she said. “But that isn’t what I meant.”

Jacob wasn’t certain that he wanted to know what she meant. He wasn’t certain that he wanted to be near Patricia Rakepick anymore, to feel her cool, judgemental gaze on him. He bowed his head to her.

“Well, thank you. For sparing her.”

He spoke in earnest, but Rakepick dismissed him with a shake of her head.

“It is too early to thank me. This isn’t over yet.” She stared at Jacob in a way that made it clear that she, too, was being entirely sincere. “This will not be over until the Vaults are all open. And, if your sister fails to open them—”

“She won’t.”

“— then you know what must happen next. I will not spare her again.”

“She won’t fail,” Jacob repeated.

“That remains to be seen,” replied Rakepick. “You may lose your sister yet, Jacob. You need to accept that. Even if she does turn out to be the one.” One corner of her lips twitched into a wry smirk. “Do you really think she will stay at your side if she lives to see you for the person you really are?”

There was nothing Jacob could say in response to that. Patricia was right, painfully right. Too many years had passed without seeing or speaking to Artemis for Jacob to say he knew his sister well, but he knew himself well enough. He knew that he was no longer the same person Artemis remembered, the person she had loved and looked up to. That was probably why he was no longer the person she loved the most, why her friend had needed to die, why he had needed to arrange it.

Godric knew what she would say if she ever found out about this. Godric knew if she would ever forgive him for his betrayal.

She couldn’t find out. She could never find out.

Patricia let out another soft, cold chuckle.

“This really is quite the web you’ve gotten yourself caught in, Mr Hexley.”

Without another word, she turned away from him and walked back down the length of the platform, where she disappeared into the darkness like a shadow.

Jacob, a shadow of his former self, was left alone once more, standing on the platform listening to the mournful sound of the air as it blew down the hill from the castle and whistled through the station. It occurred to him that the noise sounded almost like crying, but he quickly cast that thought aside.

At first, he had wandered between the portraits, through countless frames, each leading him to an identical depiction of the Vault beyond them. He should have become lost and disorientated, but somehow, he always managed to find his way back to the frames he could not get through, the ones that looked onto the real Vault.

It was as if the Vault were calling him back to it.

As much as he had tried to resist them, the Vaults always managed to lure him back. Jacob had been bitter about it until then. Now, he was glad that something other than him existed in this dark and desolate place. He no longer existed in isolation. He had found a link, a connection.

From there, there were more connections. The Portrait Vault was connected to the Forest Vault before it, and to the ones before that as well. They were all connected to each other, and all of them were connected to the final Vault, the one Jacob had yet to find. When Jacob reached out with his mind, he could feel them, all of them.

Jacob’s Legilimency had been a talent before. Now, it was a lifeline. With practice, he managed to find connections to people in close proximity to the other Vaults. When someone traversed the corridor below the Ice Vault, or walked through the library’s Restricted Section near the Vault of Fear, or a centaur cantered past the Forest Vault, Jacob could feel their presence. It was reassuring, to know that even here, he was not truly alone.

Nothing in isolation. Not even Jacob, not anymore.

As time went on — he assumed that time went on, anyway — he actively sought out the brief links to others as they passed by the other Vaults, trying to reach out to them using his Legilimency. It did not work, not the way he wanted it to. Until, one time, it did. His mind made the connection to someone else’s, and it was not just anyone else. It was her. It was Artemis.

It made sense, of course. His younger sister had the same natural gift for Legilimency as he did. It seemed only natural that the first time he would truly make a connection with another human from inside the Vault, it would be with her. And if she was close enough to a Vault for him to make that connection, that meant that she was at Hogwarts, which meant that…

It was time.

This was the moment he had been preparing for. He stopped trying to connect with people, and instead he made the connection to the first Vault, the Ice Vault.

Open… he told it. Open…

He could feel that this had been enough to agitate the Vault, to activate it and trigger the curse. After what might have been a month, or a year, or three, he felt the Vault open, and sensed a presence — Artemis’ presence — inside. The same had happened with the second Vault, and the third, and then…

He knew that the fourth Vault had been activated, not just because he could feel it, but because he could see that on the other side of the portrait frame, the crystal column inside the Vault had started to glow. All there was left for him to do was wait for Artemis to find her way to it.

And, eventually, that moment arrived.

Someone was coming. He could feel them, moving closer and closer to him, to the Vault. He could hear them, their footsteps echoing louder by the second. The light that emanated from the glowing column was dim, but when the newcomer entered the heptagonal room, he could see that they were small-framed and dark-haired, like Artemis. Was it Artemis? It felt like a logical conclusion to draw, but Jacob knew that it might only be wishful thinking on his part. Wishes could do that, they could make you lose your head. Jacob couldn’t lose his head, he had to remain logical. He couldn’t afford to wish, not anymore.

The person on the other side of the frame approached the glowing column of the Vault, and as they stepped closer to it, their shadow elongated into the darkness behind them. Their profile, though illuminated by the column, was obscured by their hair.

Jacob wanted to reach out, to feel for them with his mind and find out who they were, but as they reached out to the glowing crystal with one hand, he called out to them instead:

“Don’t touch it!”

“Jacob?”

His name, a girl’s voice. The hand retracted, and as the girl looked about the Vault, her half-shadowed face turned towards him. Jacob’s heart skipped a beat.

“Artemis?” he breathed, and the girl who looked like Artemis’ eyebrows furrowed. She continued to peer into the darkness, clearly unable to see him through the shadows.

“Jacob, where are you?” she asked.

“I’m inside the portraits.”

“How do I get you out?”

“Open the column,” Jacob told her. She took a step back towards the column, and he reached out as if to stop her, though he knew it was impossible to reach her. “Don’t touch it,” he repeated his earlier instruction. “Use Legilimency.”

If she had managed to open the door to the Vault, she had to know how to use Legilimency. Jacob could only hope that she could use it well enough to open the column as well.

The girl nodded her head, just once and so quickly that it may have been a twitch. As she narrowed her eyes at the glowing crystal, her thoughts were even louder and clearer than her voice, and they echoed Jacob’s own sentiments as he watched the scene from within the portrait frame.

Open… Open…

It had been a long time since Jacob had seen a light as bright as the one that emanated from the column as it opened. He shielded his eyes with his forearm, and as he lowered it, still found himself needing to squint as he stepped towards the edge of the portrait. He paused there for a moment, scarcely able to believe that he might be free, before stepping out through the frame.

“Jacob?”

The girl was watching him with wide and hopeful eyes. Jacob knew those eyes: hazel, with a green ring around the pupils. Her dark hair fell untidily to the level of her chin, and though it was escaping from where she had tried to tuck it behind her ears, he could still see that she had a small scar on her right cheek.

“Missy.” Though Jacob’s eyes were still adjusting to the light, he could recognise his sister. “You did it. You found me.”

He wasn’t sure who hugged who first. He wasn’t sure when he had last hugged anyone. It was a wonder that he still knew how to hug at all.

“I can’t…” Jacob couldn’t finish the sentence that he started to muffle into her hair. There were too many words, too many emotions for him to express. “It’s you.” To be certain, he held Artemis at arm’s length to look at her again. “You’re all… You look so grown up. Are you sure it’s really you?”

Artemis pushed her tears away from her cheeks with the heel of her hand.

“It’s me,” she told him. “Is it really you?”

Of course it was really Jacob. Who else would he be? He wanted to ask her as much, but her dark eyebrows had furrowed, and the look in her eyes had changed. She no longer looked hopeful. If Jacob hadn’t known better, he’d have said that she looked afraid. But that couldn’t be the case. His sister could never be afraid, not of him.

Artemis’ face kept that peculiar expression as she asked, “You’re not a Boggart, are you?”

“Why would I be a Boggart?”

Though he managed to keep smiling as he asked the question, Jacob could feel his heart sink in his chest. He felt suddenly hollow. Everything felt hollow, as if he were entirely alone in the world.

While he was stuck in the portrait, he had tried not to imagine what freedom might feel like. He had never thought that it might feel like this, that he might return to his loved ones only to find that they no longer even recognised him. Worse than that, they feared him.

Nothing in isolation.

News always spread quickly around Hogwarts, and it did not take long for the school to begin whispering about Artemis Hexley and her friends’ heroic defeat of the cabal and destruction of the infamous Cursed Vaults. With each passing day, the rumours and stories grew increasingly far-fetched, and by the time the school gossipmongers had moved on to the latest scandal - namely, Slytherin winning the Quidditch Cup after they cheated their way to victory over Gryffindor in the final match of the year, much to the obvious chagrin of Professor McGonagall - Artemis was surprised that anyone even believed in the Cursed Vaults or the Circle of Khanna anymore.

Not that she really cared, of course. She and the other seventh years had bigger things to worry about: their N.E.W.T. exams. Having spent the majority of her final term breaking curses, Artemis had not put as much effort into her revision as she should have. She had attempted to study as hard as she could in the few weeks that followed the night she had destroyed the Cursed Vaults and preceded the exams, but she had found it harder to focus on the N.E.W.T.s than she had the O.W.L.s. She was not sure whether that was because the subject material was more complex this time, because she no longer had Rowan there to motivate her with revision timetables and long library sessions, or because she was still unsettled by what she had discovered in Dumbledore’s pensieve. Probably, it was a combination of everything.

Still, she had managed to struggle through her written exams and, as always, she fared far better in the practicals. She could only hope that she had done enough to get the grades she needed to get onto the Curse-Breaker training scheme at Gringotts. 

Merula Snyde had also applied for the programme, however, she didn’t seem concerned about her exam results at all.

“They won’t care about grades,” she told Artemis as they left their final, abysmally difficult Ancient Runes exam. “Not when I’ve already given them something better.”

Artemis frowned. “What?”

“Let’s just say I managed to get a pretty convincing letter of recommendation for my application,” Merula said, her eyebrows raised. “After all, I know someone whose opinion on Curse-Breakers gets taken very seriously.”

“Who, Bill?”

“No, dungbrain. I mean Madam Rakepick, obviously.”

“There is nothing obvious about that,” replied Artemis. “How did you even-”

“I wrote to her in Azkaban. They are allowed to receive letters, you know.” Artemis didn’t know, but she nodded anyway, and Merula continued, “I told her that after the Buried Vault and what she did to Khanna, she owed that much. And seeing as she took the three of us on as apprentices and got Bill a place, it was only fair that she do the same for us, too.”

Artemis blinked. “Us?”

“Yeah, I told her to write a letter for you as well. She sent me back one for each of us, basically saying that they’d be idiots not to take us on, and I forwarded them on to Gringotts. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I just don’t remember the last time you did anything this nice for me, Merula,” Artemis replied. “Actually, I don’t remember you ever doing anything this nice for me.”

Merula rolled her eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

“You mean, you don’t want us to be work friends as well as school friends?”

“We’re not friends at all, Hexley. I barely tolerate you.”

Artemis laughed out loud, and as she walked away, she could’ve sworn she saw Merula smirking to herself. 

On the last day of term, the final years were asked to meet with their Heads of Houses. When the Hufflepuffs arrived at the greenhouses, Professor Sprout was already there, smiling at all of them with a look of mingled sadness and joy in her eyes.

“Thank you for taking time out of your last day to sit and listen to me,” she said. “There are a few things I wanted to say to you, and I’m not sure that there will be time before the leaving ceremony tomorrow morning. I expect that you will want to spend that time with your peers and with your families, and not your head of house.

“However, as your head of house, I do want to spend a little time with you. I remember your first night at the castle, when you all were first sorted into Hufflepuff. You were all so nervous and you looked so small under that hat, and now, look at you all. All grown up and ready to leave.”

“To be fair, Professor, some of us still would look small under that hat,” said Tonks, and Artemis stuck her tongue out at her.

“Hufflepuff house has always valued hard work, patience, dedication, fairness, loyalty, and kindness,” Sprout continued. “Now, I know what some say about our house, and those of us who are sorted into it. I believe the word ‘duffers’ gets thrown about fairly often, and I suppose that next to the bravery of Gryffindor, the wisdom of Ravenclaw, and the ambition of Slytherin, our house does seem a little bit humble in comparison. But, what those people fail to understand is how there is brave you must be to truly care for others, how hard work requires ambition, and how treating others fairly is always the wisest choice. Our values are nothing to be sniffed at. You’ve done a great job at upholding them whilst you’ve been here, and I do hope you’ll continue to uphold them after you leave. Remember, there is strength in being kind.

“Now, obviously, there is one less person here than there should have been. I don’t want to linger too much on sad events when you’ve all achieved so much to be happy about, but I’d like us to take just a few moments to remember Rowan.” Professor Sprout paused, placed one green-fingered hand over the other, and bowed her head. Several others followed suit, including Artemis. After almost a minute, Professor Sprout spoke again, “I think Rowan would be as proud of you as I am. And I am so very, very proud of you. I’m sorry to see you go, but I can’t wait to see how you’ll continue to make me proud in the years to come.” She smiled and wiped a single tear from her cheek. “I’ll let you all get on. Murphy, Diego, Artemis. A word, please.”

“Did we do something wrong, Professor?”

“Not at all, I just need to take back your prefects’ badges and Captain’s armband,” she told them. Diego unpinned his badge and gave it to her. Artemis waited until he had gone to do the same. Professor Sprout squeezed her hand as she pressed the badge into her green palm. “And you thought you wouldn’t make a good prefect.”

Frowning, Artemis’ nose wrinkled. “Did I make a good prefect?”

“You made an interesting one, I’ll give you that,” Sprout chuckled. “But overall, I think you did a good job. Thank you.”

“Thank you, Professor Sprout. For everything.”

“You’re welcome, Artemis. Now, have you sent off all your invitations for the ceremony tomorrow?”

Artemis shook her head. The following morning, the final years would take part in the annual leavers’ ceremony before returning home, and they had each been given a set of invitations to send to their families. Artemis had already posted invitations to her great-aunt and uncle, along with the newspaper clipping detailing the results of the magizoological photography competition she had entered earlier in the year, but had yet to send out the other two.

One she had thrown into the bin, having decided that her mother probably wouldn’t want to come, and not being certain that she wanted her to come, either. The final invitation was meant for Jacob, but she still didn’t know when he would be released from Azkaban. She had kept hold of it in the hope that he would be allowed out in time to attend, but it was looking less likely by the hour, despite several written requests to Kingsley Shacklebolt that he try to hurry the process along a bit.

“There’s still a little time,” Professor Sprout told her gently before she let go of her hand. “Murphy, your armband?”

Murphy handed it to her. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” 

For the first time in seven years, Murphy had nothing to say. He simply shrugged his shoulders, a look of glum resentment on his face. Professor Sprout sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Murphy, when I said just now that I’m proud of you all and your achievements, I don’t just mean the big wins. You were faced with an opponent that was not playing fair, and you chose to stick to your principles rather than stoop to their level. As far as I’m concerned, that was a great achievement in its own right. Besides, Quidditch shouldn’t just be about winning. It should be about being part of a team and having fun with your peers. And you know, even though you’re adults now, it’s okay for you to do things you enjoy just for the fun of them.”

Artemis’ eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

“I almost forgot!” she blurted out. “Murphy, I’ve got an idea. Can you get the Quidditch team together? Tell them to meet on the pitch right after lunch. I’ll make sure Andre and Charlie know to come, too.”

And so, with Penny’s help spreading the word, several assorted members of the Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor Quidditch teams and the entire Circle of Khanna met on the pitch, ready to play one final game while they still could.

“But there’s too many of us,” said Andre, frowning at all the people who had gathered around to join.

“So? We can have more Chasers and Beaters, or we’ll just swap players in and out as we go.”

“That’s actually against the rules,” Murphy told her. “You’re only allowed to substitute players after the beginning of the match if the game goes on for more than-”

“Sod the rules. This is just for fun. Anyone who wants to play can play. Who’s in?”

In the end, they managed to sort out two teams of nine players, made up of students from all four houses, with both Murphy and Lee Jordan sharing the commentary. 

It was chaos. With more players on the pitch (many of whom did not usually play Quidditch), two commentators, and no team robes to distinguish who was who, Artemis found it hard to follow what was actually going on, even from the vantage point she was using in order to look out for the golden snitch. 

"Egwu saves, but Diego Caplan picks it up on the rebound," announced Lee Jordan. "From what I hear, this is something of a speciality for Caplan, who-" 

"Caplan passes to Hopper," Murphy interrupted him wearily, "who flies back to the scoring zone. Hopper has a remarkable shooting record in the past, so Egwu will have his work cut out for him. But what's this? One of the Weasleys-"

"I think it's Fred. Could also be George."

"It's a fifty percent chance either way. Weasley aims a Bludger at Hopper, but it looks like... Yes, Bludger is deflected by Lee. Excellent defence from newcomer Lee there, leaving Hopper free to shoot. She shoots, and she scores!"

"Ten points to... Which team is that?"

It was not Artemis' team that had scored, but she applauded anyway as Ellie Hopper flew away from the goalposts and smiled at Barnaby, who blushed and dropped his Beater's bat. 

On the other side of the pitch, Artemis thought she could see a flash of something gold, so she flew closer to investigate. She wasn't the only one. Charlie Weasley must have seen the same thing, for he flew in the same direction. 

"You saw it too, then?" he asked her, his eyes scanning the pitch.

"Dunno what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't."

Artemis stopped feigning ignorance and grinned before squinting to try and see the snitch, to no avail.

"I think it's gone," she said, frowning.

"I think you're right," replied Charlie, but he kept looking for a few more seconds before shrugging and turning to her. "What's the score?" 

"You're asking the wrong person. I think my team is winning, though."

"For now, maybe. Ow! That's a foul, you know."

Of course, Artemis did know, but she didn't care. She laughed and zoomed away from Charlie, leaving him to rub his upper arm where she had just flown into him sideways. She took both hands from her broomstick and held her arms wide as she accelerated, raising her face to the sunlight and feeling the breeze filter through her outstretched fingers. She was going to miss this feeling.

The sound of applause from down below drew her attention back to the game, and she saw that Beatrice Haywood had managed to score a goal for her own team. She clapped her hands, and scanned the pitch once more for the Snitch.

And she saw it.

There, near the other team's goalposts, the tiny golden ball was flitting around the hoops, weaving its way between them. Artemis put her hands back on the broom and accelerated towards it, the wind whipping her face and hair as she flew faster and faster through the air. She was focussing so hard on the Snitch that she almost didn't notice Charlie in her peripheral vision, but she just about managed to catch a glimpse of his distinctive red hair. She pushed further forward, descending into a dive as the Golden Snitch spiralled down the length of the middle goalpost. 

Having nearly reached the ground, the Snitch shot out across the middle of the pitch, flying so low to the ground that it was almost touching the grass. Artemis pulled out of the dive and swerved to follow it, and so did Charlie. 

Her broom was the better model, more suited to sharp turns than Charlie's, but he was the more skilled flier. He turned with pinpoint precision, and accelerated after the ball. Artemis flattened herself so low to her broom that her chin almost touched the handle, willing it to fly faster, but Charlie was gaining speed, and now they were neck and neck, and the Snitch was so close, so very close.

Artemis reached out her hand to catch it, but it ducked under her hand and dodged sideways, closer to Charlie. In desperation, she slammed her hand down, hard. She did so with such speed and force that she forgot to brake and her broom slipped out from beneath her, but she didn't care. Beneath her right palm, the Snitch's left wing was trapped and pinned to the ground. Unfortunately, however, the other wing was also trapped by another hand. As she had fallen from her broom, Charlie had jumped from his own, and had also managed to trap the Snitch by holding it down to the ground.

“Now what?”

The other players flew down and dismounted their broomsticks. 

"Well, I think the fairest thing to do would be to see who touched it first," said Penny. "After all, don't Snitches have flesh memories?"

"They do, but this one is second-hand. It'll say I caught it, regardless of who did this time."

"So, what do we do?"

Charlie turned to Artemis. "Tie?"

That was good enough for her. "Tie."

Murphy and Lee Jordan called out the final scores, but Artemis was no longer listening at all. Not just because she didn't mind about winning or losing, but because from under the stands, she could see someone emerging who looked incredibly familiar, even from the distance.

"Hey, Hexley, isn't that..."

"It's my brother," she said. "It's Jacob."

She waved the others ahead and walked across the pitch towards her brother, who began to clap his hands as she approached him. 

"Not bad," he grinned. "You're a decent flier."

Artemis shrugged. "I was just taught well."

"Humble, too. No wonder the hat put you in Hufflepuff," Jacob looked across at Artemis' friends, many of whom were surreptitiously watching the pair of them. "Want to get out of here?"

Together, Artemis and Jacob made their way through the grounds to the covered bridge, which gave them a clear view over the Forbidden Forest in one direction and the Black Lake in the other. Jacob looked out at both as if he'd never seen them before.

"I don't think I'll ever get over these views," he said. "Although any view is an improvement on what I've been staring at for the last ten months."

Artemis looked at her brother properly. He was paler than he used to be, his robes hung from his body as if they were too big for him, and his cheekbones were more pronounced than ever. His eyes had dark circles beneath them, and his smile didn't quite reach them. 

"I'm sorry I didn't write to you. I would’ve done, but I didn't know they let you send letters to Azkaban," she told him. "When did they let you go?" 

"Late last night."

"But Dumbledore asked them to release you weeks ago!"

"Yes, but because lying in a court of magical law is also a crime, I had to finish a shorter sentence before I could leave," Jacob explained. "So last night it was. Didn't want to be alone, so I stayed at Newt and Tina's. I came here as soon as they stopped telling me about your photo competition. Uncle Newt is incredibly pleased that you are the second-best magizoological photographer in the country. He's had the article framed and everything."

"He has?"

"Twice. Apparently one of the Crups ate the first frame."

A small laugh escaped Artemis' mouth, and the fine lines in the corners of Jacob's eyes deepened as his smile widened. 

"Did they tell you about the leaving ceremony tomorrow?" she asked, and he nodded. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her last invitation. "Do you want to come?"

"Definitely. I think I've missed enough already," Jacob said. He took the invitation from her and wrapped his arms around her. "It seems very strange to think of you being old enough to leave Hogwarts."

"Yeah."

"What are you going to do next?"

"What I'm good at," said Artemis. "Curse-breaking. I've applied for the training position at Gringotts." She frowned. "What will you do? Where will you go?"

"I want to solve mysteries. The mysteries." For the first time since Artemis could remember, Jacob's eyes brightened. Not understanding his meaning, her eyebrows furrowed deeper, and he explained, "Mysteries that have been around for so long that people have forgotten they ever even existed. Like the Chamber of Secrets or the Fountain of Fair Fortune."

"Those are just stories. They're not real."

"Muggles believe that Merlin is just a story. We were told that the Cursed Vaults weren't real. They are, they've just been talked about so much that people have stopped believing in them. In every legend there's an element of truth, and so I want to find out exactly how much truth there is in everything we now consider to be a legend. As for where that will take me, I don't know."

Artemis swallowed. "So, you'll leave? And I won't know where you'll be going or when you'll be back?"

"Or you could come with me."

"You really mean it? You and me, going around the world, and working together?"

"Why not? Between us, we managed to do the impossible with the Vaults. What's to stop us from doing more impossible things?"

Artemis could scarcely believe her ears. This was everything she had ever wanted to hear, everything she had longed for in all those years of searching and missing her brother. And yet... 

Perhaps it was just that it felt too good to be true, or perhaps it was because she already felt homesick for Hogwarts, or because so much had changed, but she felt suddenly apprehensive. It was as if she were being pulled in two different directions, and she didn't know which way she should go. So, instead of agreeing, she asked:

"What about Gringotts?"

"You don't have to go to Gringotts. I doubt you'd like it, anyway. They have a lot of rules their curse-breakers have to follow, and there's a lot of studying and paperwork you'd have-"

"You don't know that," Artemis said. "You've never worked for Gringotts."

"Patricia used to talk about it."

"Patricia? Oh, Madam Rakepick," Artemis nodded, and gave a little shudder. "It's so strange hearing you call her that, thinking how you were friends, after everything she did." Jacob made a humming noise, and Artemis continued, "Did you know Merula wrote to her about Gringotts and asked her to write us both recommendations?"

"No."

"Yeah. She actually did it as well. Wrote the letters."

"Makes sense," said Jacob. Artemis stared at him incredulously. "She saw something of herself in you. I think she was quite fond of you."

"Yeah, she seemed really fond all those times she tried to murder me."

"She was fond of you, but she cared about the Vaults more."

"Like Dad?"

She hadn't meant to say it. She had been so happy to see Jacob that she hadn't wanted to bring up everything she had seen in Dumbledore's Pensieve the night she destroyed the final Vault. She didn't want to feel angry at Jacob, not after he had just spent months and months in Azkaban to keep her safe, without her even writing him a letter.

"You know about Dad?" Jacob asked, his body stiffening.

"Yeah. Dumbledore told me-"

"He shouldn't have done that."

"- and Ma gave me back my memories." Jacob didn't respond, so Artemis elaborated. "You know, the ones you stole from me."

"Look, you don't…” Jacob sighed. “You were six years old, Artemis. You were confused and scared, and it was better that you didn't remember what happened. You were better off without those memories."

"I don't care. They were mine. You had no right to-"

"Actually, Artemis, I did have the right. After Dad died, I was left in charge of everything, including you."

Artemis glowered at him. "This is the part where you're supposed to apologise."

"I'm not going to apologise to you for doing the right thing," Jacob told her. "You might not like it, but I did it to protect you. Every single thing I have done has been to protect you, and some of it might not have been to your liking. Some of it wasn't to my liking either, but I did it anyway, because there is nothing - nothing - that I wouldn't do to keep you safe."

He stopped talking and turned his face away from her to look out over the grounds. Artemis frowned. His words echoed in her ears, reminding her of something someone else had told her, not too long ago. Duncan Ashe.

She bit her lower lip before asking in a quiet voice: "Like betray someone to R, you mean?"

"What are you talking about?"

Jacob asked the question in a level voice and with only a moment’s hesitation, but in that split second before he spoke, what little colour her had left in his cheeks drained from them entirely, and even in profile Artemis could see that his eyes had widened, just a fraction.

"I'm talking about Duncan," she told him, and he exhaled. "He thought that you betrayed him, had chosen him to die over me. He said that you'd told him yourself, and I thought he had just gotten the wrong end of the wand, but..." Artemis shook her head. She had just seen the truth on Jacob’s face. "You did, didn't you? You deliberately made it seem like he was the person you cared about more than anything or anyone else, just so that the Cabal wouldn't come after me."

Slowly, Jacob nodded his head. "It was the only way, so I... That I will apologise for."

The look in his eyes was one of genuine guilt. And something else, Artemis realised, as he looked at her properly. She narrowed her eyes at him and he looked away again. As he did, she realised what it was. 

Relief.

"What else?" she asked him, her blood running cold as she did so. She wasn't sure whether she really wanted to know the answer, but she still repeated her question. "What else did you do?"

Jacob said nothing, just continued to look out at the grounds. There were tears in his eyes. Something in the front of his neck moved up and down. Artemis followed his gaze and saw that it was focused on the Forbidden Forest. She closed her eyes. 

"The letter," she murmured. "The one Corey found. The handwriting, it... I thought it looked funny. Different. I assumed it had been written in a rush, but..." 

She opened her eyes, but she was still unable to see the forest. Even Jacob was blurry through her tears as she looked at him and asked him:

"Was it you? Jacob, did you send that letter to Rowan?"

"Artemis..."

"You did. You sent it. All this time I thought it was my fault, and all of this time... It was you." Artemis' sense of cold dread was draining from her. She was growing hot all over, almost burning with rage. "You plotted it, all of it. You and Patricia. You're the reason Rowan was there in that forest that night, and you're the reason she..."

Jacob looked her in the eye and told her: "I'm sorry."

"Would you do it again?" 

Artemis' question hung in the air, unanswered.

"Then you're not sorry," she said, half-spitting the words at him. "And I don't have to forgive you."

"I didn't ask you to forgive me."

"Good, because I don't, and I never will. I'll never forgive you." Jacob closed his eyes, but Artemis' stayed open, staring at him in contempt. "You know what? You should just leave and not tell me where you're going or when you'll be coming back. I don't even care anymore. And I'll be having this." She snatched her invitation from his hands so furiously that it was a miracle it didn't rip in half. "I don't want you at the ceremony. I don't want you anywhere near me or my friends. Here, you can have this back instead."

Her fingers trembled as she removed the watch Jacob had given her for safekeeping all those years ago, making her fumble as she undid the clasp. Jacob watched her with his eyes wide.

"I don't want it," he said gently.

"Neither do I. I don't want any part of you."

Finally she managed to take the watch off. She threw it at Jacob's feet, not even caring if it broke, and glared at him, daring him to contradict her.

"You'll always have a part of me, Artemis. Like it or not, I'll always be your brother."

"I already have a brother. His name is Bill."

She had nothing left to say, so she turned tail and ran away, down the covered bridge, out past the stone circle, and through the grounds, her heart pounding and aching and breaking. 

Nearing the owlery, she stopped and half-threw herself down under the red-berried tree outside. Her head on her hands and her elbows on her knees, she let out a strangled scream, not caring if she startled the group of Thestrals that were grazing on the grass behind her. 

Her whole life, everything she ever had been, had been defined by the Cursed Vaults. And now, the Vaults were gone and she was leaving Hogwarts, and she wasn't Jacob's younger sister anymore, nor was she the Cursed Vault girl, or even the Hufflepuff prefect or Seeker. She was just... Well, she didn't really know who she was without all that. So, what was she supposed to do now?

She unfolded herself from the ball she had curled herself into and looked up at the branches above her, adorned with red berries and green leaves. The last two times she had come here had been on New Year's Eve - Rowan's birthday - and the tree had been almost bare. Now, it was full of life, but it would be bare again by December. That was just how things went. They kept going on. And so would she. 

She looked down at her hands, still clutching the invitation to the leaving ceremony that had been meant for Jacob, and an idea came to her. She pulled out her wand and pointed it at the invitation in her hand, duplicating it wordlessly, and  carried the invitations up to the owlery. As she stood in the doorway watching two owls fly away from her, one due south and the other in the direction of the village, she wondered why it had taken her so long to send them, and hoped that she hadn't left it too late to do so.

The clock tower bell chimed seven times, and she returned back to the castle, her home for one last night, where the end of term feast would soon be beginning.

The sun rose early the morning that Artemis awoke in her dormitory for the final time, and so did she and her friends. With seven years’ worth of textbooks, clothes, assorted knick-knacks, and a single bat having having found a home in the room, sorting everything out had proved to be somewhat of a challenge, and they still had the last few items to pack before they could attend the leaving ceremony.

“Whose scrunchies are all these?” Chiara asked, holding up five hair bands for the other girls to claim. “And that scarf isn’t mine, either.”

She pointed to a striped cardigan that was draped over the end of her bed. Fergus lay belly up beneath it, batting the pom-pom tassels with his forepaws. Artemis stopped unpinning the photos from behind her headboard to look at it, her chest tightening as she did so.

“It’s Rowan’s,” she said. “She bought it in Diagon Alley the day we first met.”

“Do you want to keep it?”

“I… Not if anyone else wants it.”

“Nah, you take it,” said Tonks. “You were there when she bought it. She was your friend from the beginning.”

Penny, whose face had been pink and eyes dewy since the night before, promptly burst into tears. Artemis let go of the scarf.

“You can have it if you like, Penny. I don’t mind.”

But Penny dismissed her offer with a shake of her head.

“It’s not the scarf, I just…” she sniffed and looked around the dormitory. “It’s just that we’re really leaving, and we won’t come back in September and all be here together. I just… I can’t believe it’s all ending. It feels so… so…”

Artemis swallowed hard as Penny’s voice tailed off. She understood all the feelings her friend was struggling to put into words.

“We were always going to leave eventually,” said Chiara. She put down her packing and walked over to hug Penny. “And it’s not like we’ll never see each other again.”

Penny wiped away her tears and nodded. “Well, yes, okay. But you have to promise, all of you, that we will all stay friends, no matter what happens. We will write to each other, and we will make sure that we meet up whenever we can, and you’ll all come and visit me in Paris.”

“Eh,” Tonks shrugged. “I’m probably just going to find some new friends. Honestly, I’ve spent the last seven years waiting to get rid of you.”

She winked at Artemis, who tried to keep a straight face as she told Penny: “Yeah, about Paris… I think I might be busy that week, actually.”

Penny reached into her trunk, pulled out her favourite slippers, and threw one at each of them.

“You’re both horrible!” she shouted, but she was at least laughing now.

The girls’ laughter carried with them as they left the Hufflepuff common room one last time and made their way up to the Great Hall, where the professors, all dressed in formal robes and ornate hats, were gathered with their families. Floating trays of sparkling liquid in tall glasses drifted between the guests, the benches had been arranged in rows facing the top table, and stacks of black pointed hats had been placed on the daïs. 

Penny was quick to find her family and drag them over to greet Chiara’s parents, and Tonks made her way over to where her mother and father were chatting with two older witches who each had an arm around Tulip Karasu. Artemis went to greet her own guests, pleased to see that all four of her invitees were in attendance; not just her great-aunt and uncle, but Madam Rosmerta and Kingsley Shacklebolt as well. She hugged each of them in turn.

“I thought you might not be able to make it,” she said to Ros and Kingsley. “I left it so late to send the invitations.”

“I wouldn’t have expected anything else from you, Tiny,” replied Kingsley, with a deep chuckle. Madam Rosmerta squeezed Artemis’ shoulder.

“You know I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Now, where’s your camera?”

Rosmerta wasn’t the only adult wanting to take photos. Once she and Artemis’ friends’ family members were satisfied that they had enough photos of the graduating students, Professor McGonagall tapped her glass with a spoon, and the guests took to their seats. She held out a scroll of parchment, and told the students:

“When I call your name, you will come to the daïs, and have a hat placed on your head before you sit down. Ali, Badeea!”

One by one, each of the students approached the daïs and had Professor Dumbledore shake their hand and put one of the smart black pointed hats placed on their head, while the rest of the hall applauded gently. Once Talbott Winger’s hand had been shaken and a hat placed on his tawny-haired head, McGonagall rolled up her scroll, and Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat.

“And so, that’s that,” he said, his blue eyes twinkling behind his gold-rimmed glasses. “Every year we greet a new set of students and say goodbye to another, and it appears that we have come full circle, once again. This is always a bittersweet moment as educators. Even our more stoic members of staff” - Artemis could have sworn that he glanced at Professor Snape - “have forged strong bonds with the young people sitting before me today, and we will miss you all sorely, just as I flatter myself to think that you will miss us in return.

“For the last seven years, Hogwarts has been a place of safety - by and large - and a home away from home for you. I understand how unsettling it can feel to leave, to be sent out into the world and all the uncertainty that it holds. I can tell you all I like that Hogwarts will always be your home, but as true as that is, I fear that it will be little reassurance to you. So, instead, let me say this:

“You may have heard it said that circle has no ending. This is true, however, it is also true that a circle has many endings. In fact, it has a multitude of endings, an infinite number of them, but,” Dumbledore paused, his lips twitching slightly, “each of those endings is also a beginning. And so, while this may feel like the end, it is not. It is merely the beginning.

“In that spirit, it is time for you all to return to the place where you began, ready to end this journey and begin a new one, wherever it may take you.”

The doors to the Great Hall swung open, and Professor McGonagall led the final years out into the entrance courtyard, where Hagrid was waiting for them, with tears in his eyes and Fergus the cat in his arms.

“I reckon ‘e was worried yeh were goin’ ter leave withou’ ‘im,” he whispered to Artemis, who grinned and let Fergus climb onto her shoulders.

“I could never do that.”

She stayed near the front of the procession of students, teachers, and guests that followed Hagrid down the cliff path to the Black Lake, where the boats were ready and waiting on the shore.

“Four to a boa’!”

As Penny and Chiara climbed into a boat with Jae and Ben, Artemis and Fergus climbed into an adjacent one with Tonks and Charlie, Hagrid steadying the boat as they climbed in. 

“We’re missing a fourth person,” said Tonks, her pink eyebrows furrowing. “Should we ask-”

“No,” Artemis shook her head and pulled the pom-pom-tasselled scarf from her cloak pocket and placed it on the bench next to her. “This seat is taken.”

She avoided looking either Tonks or Charlie in the eye by watching others as they began to float away in nearby boats. Murphy McNully had joined Andre, Tulip, and Badeea in one, while the Slytherins - Merula, Ismelda, Ben, and Liz - were in another. Diego and Corey were sharing a third with Talbott and Victor Ketsueki, who raised his eyebrows at Artemis. She rolled her eyes at him but smiled to herself once she’d looked away, back at the shore where the guests had gathered with the teachers.

Bill Weasley waved to her with the arm that wasn’t wrapped around his mother’s shoulders as she cried into a handkerchief, and Kingsley nodded to her before conjuring another handkerchief and passing it to little Beatrice Haywood, who had been using her sleeve to wipe her tears from her face. Madam Rosmerta was smiling, and two Crups were yapping at her Aunt and Uncle’s feet. Professor Dumbledore bowed his head to her, and the clock tower bell chimed ten times. 

The sun was not yet high in the sky, but its beams burst through the scattered clouds of the midsummer morning, illuminating the castle and basking it in a soft golden glow. Artemis smiled to herself. 

The trial of Jacob Hexley and Patricia Rakepick was to be held in the courtrooms on the very lowest level of the Ministry of Magic. When the morning of the trial arrived, Artemis and Madam Rosmerta, who had closed the Three Broomsticks for the day in order to accompany her, met Kingsley Shacklebolt next to the fountain in the atrium before making their way down to the belly of the Ministry together.

“Level Nine,” the cool voice of the lift announced, after a short descent from the atrium. “Department of Mysteries.”

“The lift doesn’t go any lower,” said Kingsley, as the doors rattled open. “We will have to walk the rest of the way.”

With Rosmerta’s arm still wrapped around her shoulders, Artemis followed Kingsley down the corridor. She had not had any reason to visit the Department of Mysteries during her two weeks of work experience, and she was struck by the difference between the corridor she was now walking down compared to those of the higher levels. This corridor was bare, without any windows or doors, save for a single jet black door at the very end of it. Something about the door made Artemis shudder, though she was not certain why. She stared at it, and as she did, it opened to reveal a young witch with thick-rimmed glasses and curly dark hair pulled back into a bun. 

“After you,” said the woman, closing the door quickly and gesturing to a set of stairs on the left.

Madam Rosmerta’s arm steering Artemis down the stairs prevented her from looking at the black door or the woman who had stepped out of it, but she could hear a fourth set of footsteps behind her as they descended to Level Ten, where the courtrooms were situated. 

The courtroom itself was a large, high-ceilinged room with dark stone walls illuminated by torches. Rows of benches rose up on three sides, highest on the wall opposite the door, with people occupying seats on all sides.

“Spectators to the left, witnesses to the right,” said a squat witch with a toad-like face and pastel pink robes, her high-pitched voice ringing like a shrill bell. “I’m afraid that the seats straight ahead are reserved for members of the Wizengamot and Council of Magical Law.”

She said the word ‘members’ with a slight inflection that made it clear that she believed said members to be far more important than Artemis or either of her friends. Rosmerta pursed her lips before she hugged Artemis tightly and made her way to the benches on the left, leaving Kingsley to lead her across the courtroom to the right, past the rows of benches seating the members of the Wizengamot and Council of Magical Law, who were dressed in plum-coloured robes. 

The witnesses’ seats were mainly empty, aside from the two pale, drawn faces of Artemis’ fellow students Merula Snyde and Ben Copper, sitting side-by-side on the front bench; the grubby features of Mr Borgin, who owned a disreputable shop in Knockturn Alley; and a wizard on the very back row, whose face was cast in such dark shadow that Artemis couldn’t recognise his features save for a flash of his white beard. 

“You okay?” she asked Ben as she sat down beside him. He shook his head silently, his lips pressed tightly together as if he was trying not to be sick. Artemis placed a hand on his forearm and squeezed it gently, before leaning across to Merula.

“Sod off, Hexley,” Merula hissed, before Artemis had the chance to say anything. 

“I just-”

“I said, sod off.”

Artemis rolled her eyes and faced forward, just as the young witch from the Department of Mysteries made her way up the rows of benches to sit a few seats behind them. Artemis watched her, frowning. She didn’t recognise the witch at all. Were more trials taking place than that of her brother and Rakepick? 

She turned back to Kingsley to ask him, but found herself unable to say anything as she noticed yet another woman enter the courtroom and make her way over to the spectators’ benches, dark hair half-covering her face as she walked to the very back row with her head lowered. Artemis’ mouth went dry. Even with her half of her face obscured from view, she was able to recognise her own mother.

The pink-robed witch made her way to the Wizengamot benches and sat on the front row, holding a fluffy pink quill and parchment. A single wooden chair appeared in the centre of the room and the court fell silent, before a woman’s voice - lower-pitched and far more resonant than that of the pink witch - began to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your attendance today,” said the voice, which belonged to a grey-haired witch with a square jaw and a monocle in the middle of the front row of the Wizengamot benches. Her upright posture and level, authoritative voice reminded Artemis of Professor McGonagall. “Let us begin the proceedings. Criminal trial of the twenty-fourth of August 1990, pertaining to the offences of Jacob Odysseus Hexley of Camden, London, and Patricia Rakepick of Foulburn-in-Pendle, Lancashire. Interrogater-in-chief shall be myself, Madam Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Sitting beside me and acting in the role of court scribe is Madam Dolores Jane Umbridge, Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office.” Beside Madam Bones, the pink-robed witch gave a tight-lipped smile. “Witness for the defence shall be…”

“Myself,” said a familiar voice from behind Artemis, and she turned in her seat to see that the wizard in the back row was also on his feet. Now that he was no longer sitting in the shadows, she was clearly able to recognise the features of her headmaster. “Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. I won’t bore all you dear people with my many titles and accolades.”

Dumbledore gave a wry smile, and there were a few quiet chuckles from the benches around the courtroom. Madam Bones inclined her head and used her wand to cast a Patronus, that of a large silver-white owl. Across the courtroom from her, the door opened to reveal two Dementors flanking a handsome young wizard with messy dark hair and hazel eyes, his hands cuffed together at the wrist. 

“You are Jacob Odysseus Hexley?” asked Madam Bones, and Jacob nodded his head. “For the benefit of the court scribe, the accused has indicated that he is indeed Jacob Hexley by the nodding of his head. Jacob Hexley, you are today accused of working for the criminal organisation that goes by the name of ‘R’ for two years between 1979 and 1990, and committing acts of crime in their name, notably multiple offenses under the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Magic, one of which resulted in the death of a wizard. You are also accused of failing to answer summons to provide evidence to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement during the winter of 1981. Today we shall hear evidence and pass judgement on you. Do you understand?”

Jacob nodded again.

“For the benefit of the court scribe, the accused has indicated by the nodding of his head that he understands the charges put against him. Professor Dumbledore, if you please.”

Dumbledore walked down the steps to stand beside Jacob, his wand raised above his head and a shield-like Patronus swirling in the air above him. He bowed his head at Madam Bones and rested his free hand on the back of Jacob’s chair. 

“Professor Dumbledore, you are the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, are you not?”

Dumbledore inclined his head and smiled serenely. 

“For the benefit of the court scribe, I am indicating my answer to be an affirmative with a nod of my head,” he said, and there was another quiet round of chuckles. Madam Bones’ lips twitched, but beside her, the court scribe’s toad-like face darkened. “Furthermore, I admit to being headmaster of Hogwarts throughout Mr Hexley’s formal education.”

“How would you describe the accused as a student?”

“Intelligent, curious, conscientious, proud, charming, ambitious, bold - dare I say it? - a little too bold at times,” Dumbledore smiled again. “Altogether, rather brilliant. Without wanting to sound immodest, I would say that he was not unlike myself as a student.”

“Rather brilliant,” said Madam Bones, ignoring the titters around her. “And yet, Mr Hexley did not complete his formal education, did he?”

“No, he did not.”

“Why not?”

“Mr Hexley was expelled shortly before his eighteenth birthday following a series of… unfortunate incidents.”

“Would one such incident be the death of Mr Duncan Ashe?”

“It would,” Professor Dumbledore inclined his head. “Mr Ashe and Mr Hexley were close friends during their time at Hogwarts. Mr Ashe was similarly bold and ambitious, and the two of them became embroiled in a quest during their time at Hogwarts.”

“A quest?”

“A quest to discover the infamous Cursed Vaults.”

There was a murmur that echoed around the courtroom. Madam Bones held Dumbledore’s gaze silently as the murmur subsided.

“The Cursed Vaults are said to be a legend,” she said, after the courtroom had fallen  silent.

“One only need read the Daily Prophet’s articles about recent events at the school to know that this is not the case. The Cursed Vaults are real, as Mr Hexley and Mr Ashe discovered. Unfortunately, they are not the only ones to have discovered this over the years,” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “The organisation that calls themselves ‘R’ has also made this discovery, far less innocently than two schoolboys.”

The court scribe cleared her throat. “Hem hem,” she said, smiling sweetly. “I’m afraid that it is the court who shall be deciding who is innocent today, Professor Dumbledore.”

“Of course, my dear Madam Umbridge. A turn of phrase, nothing more.”

“Professor Dumbledore, please tell us about the events surrounding Mr Ashe’s death,” said Madam Bones.

“Duncan Ashe was sadly killed in a tragic potioneering incident. The two boys were hoping to brew a potion that could be used to attack a creature guarding one of the Cursed Vaults. Evidence found at the scene indicated that powdered Erumpet Horn had been used, causing the potion to explode, with fatal damage to both Mr Ashe and the surrounding area. The story was corroborated by the ghost of Mr Ashe himself following the accident.”

“If this was an accident, as you say,” Madam Umbridge said, very carefully pronouncing the word ‘accident’, “how did Mr Hexley come to be expelled as the result thereof? Surely, his expulsion would indicate some degree of guilt in the matter?”

“Madam Umbridge, I must point out that you are here in the role of court scribe, not interrogator,” Madam Bones told her. “However, the question stands. Why was Mr Hexley expelled?”

“Mr Ashe’s death took place in June 1981,” said Professor Dumbledore. “At that point, Mr Hexley was told under no uncertain terms that he must discontinue his search for the Cursed Vaults. Earlier in the year he had broken his wand in search of the Vaults, and been seen consorting with several unsavoury characters. This was his final warning; were he found to have anything else to do with the Cursed Vaults, he would be expelled.”

“And he did not heed this warning?”

“He did not.”

“So, it was your opinion that Mr Hexley’s obsession with the Cursed Vaults made him a danger to his peers.”

“I have said nothing of the sort. I told Mr Hexley what the consequences would be were he to be found investigating the Vaults, and he was later found to be investigating them. As headmaster, it is my unfortunate duty to be a disciplinarian, and as an honourable individual, it is my moral duty to keep to my word,” Professor Dumbledore removed his hand from the back of Jacob’s chair. “Mr Hexley showed great promise. His interest in the Cursed Vaults was unfortunate, yet understandable. Many very honourable witches and wizards of great intellect have pursued similar quests. It does not make them criminals.”

“Perhaps not,” said Madam Bones. “Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. We shall now be hearing from a Mr Borgin, of Knockturn Alley. Mr Borgin, if you please.”

Professor Dumbledore stepped back as Mr Borgin took to the front of the court.

“Your full name and profession?”

“Tubal Borgin. I am the proprietor of Borgin and Burke’s, a shop in Knockturn Alley. I deal in collectibles and antiques.”

Beside Artemis, Kingsley made a quiet noise that sounded almost like he was clearing his throat. She turned to look at him and, seeing that his eyebrows were raised and lips pursed, had to stop herself from laughing. Borgin and Burke’s sold many things, half of which were likely to be illegal and almost none of which she would class as either collectibles or antiques.

“Mr Borgin, it is my understanding that two known members of  the criminal organisation ‘R’ - namely Madam Patricia Rakepick and Mr Loken Burke - have, on several occasions, frequented your shop.”

“That’s right. Loki’s the nephew of my former business partner, and Madam Rakepick used to come in a fair bit when she wasn’t off somewhere with Gringotts,” said Mr Borgin. He frowned suddenly, and added, “I didn’t know that either of them were criminals at the time, mind you.”

“He’s lying,” whispered Artemis.

“Oh, I know,” Kingsley replied.

“You are not the one on trial today, Mr Borgin. What business did Madam Rakepick and Mr Burke have with you?”

“Sometimes they bought, er, antiques. Mainly, though, they used a cabinet.”

Madam Bartholomew raised her eyebrows. “A cabinet?”

“Yes, a vanishing cabinet. One of pair, its partner can be found somewhere at Hogwarts school. They used it to carry messages between themselves and Jacob Hexley.”

“Jacob Hexley? You are certain?”

“Very certain. I was under instructions not to read the messages, but I made a point of checking that they had sent through. I never deliberately read them, but there were a couple of times that I saw the ink shining through the parchment-”

“Another lie,” Artemis breathed.

“- and I clearly could make out his name. And, what’s more, Jacob Hexley used the vanishing cabinet himself just last year. Late November, maybe early December. Left a message in there.”

“Has anyone tried to use the cabinet since then?”

“Only myself, doing my routine maintenance work. It’s been out of order since February.”

Artemis bit her lip and looked away from Mr Borgin. She knew exactly why his cabinet was out of order; she had damaged its partner terribly earlier in the year. She had done a pretty good job of trying to destroy it, she doubted that anyone would ever use it to send messages again.

“No one has used the cabinet since Jacob Hexley sent a message in November?” said Madam Bartholomew. “Not a single person?”

“Well, there was a response. Madam Rakepick collected it, said she was under orders from Hexley to pick up the message for him.”

There was a round of murmurs through the courtroom, but Artemis barely took note of them. Her blood had run cold; she had been the one to send that letter to Jacob, detailing when and where she would be meeting him the night that she, Ben, and Merula had gone into the forest. The night that Rakepick had intercepted them. The night that she had killed Artemis’ best friend.

“Did you report this at the time?” 

“Er…”

“Never mind,” Madam Bones tutted. “Why do you think Jacob Hexley sent Patricia Rakepick to collect his messages?”

“If I may interrupt,” said Dumbledore, as Borgin opened his mouth to answer Madam Bones’ question. “The only thing suggesting that Jacob Hexley asked Madam Rakepick to collect this message was her word. I would think it far more likely, given the nature of the events that transpired following this interaction” - Artemis shuddered involuntarily - “that Rakepick intercepted this message on her own volition.”

Madam Umbridge piped up: “Unless, of course, Mr Hexley and Madam Rakepick worked together to-”

“There is no evidence that Jacob Hexley had any involvement in the death of Rowan Khanna, and nor is he on trial for such involvement,” Dumbledore said finally. 

“Indeed. We shall not ask further questions on this matter,” Madam Bones cast a sideways glance at the court scribe, who did not look abashed in the slightest. “Mr Borgin, please return to the benches so that we may question our next witness.” She glanced down at the parchment in front of her, and read the name, “Madam Green.”

The young woman who had followed Artemis, Kingsley and Ros down the stairs from level nine rose to her feet and walked silently to the centre of the courtroom.

“What is your name?” asked Madam Bones.

“Olivia Mnemosyne Green.”

“And your profession?”

“I’m an Unspeakable.”

“And what does that role entail?”

“Well, I’m not really allowed to say. That’s why we’re called Unspeakables,” Olivia Green said wryly, and there were a few titters from the witches and wizards watching the trial. Madam Bones’ lips twitched, but she raised her eyebrows pointedly at Olivia Green, who bowed her head before continuing. “I work in the Department of Mysteries as a Oracler.”

Madam Bones’ eyebrows raised even higher. “You’re a Seer?” 

“An Oracler. I don’t make prophecies, I analyse and keep records of them,” explained Madam Green. “I’m afraid I cannot say more than that.”

“I see. Or, I should say, I understand. Madam Green, please could you tell the court about your relationship with Mr Hexley?”

“I went to school with Jacob. We were friends. Both of us were interested in prophecy analysis, you see. We read Tycho Dodonus together in our first year.”

“Very impressive. Was Mr Ashe part of your friendship group as well?”

“He was, but not until our second year. He was in Slytherin and had read about the legend of the Chamber of Secrets. He was determined to find it, and asked us to help, so we went looking together. We never found it, but whilst we were looking for that, we found out about the Cursed Vaults. We were having no luck with the Chamber of Secrets, so we thought we’d have a go at finding the Vaults instead,” Madam Green said. She paused and swallowed. “At first, we weren’t getting very far, but it was Jacob’s idea to talk to the ghosts. One of the ghosts mentioned a charms professor named Fortinbras who had tried to find the Vaults in the nineteenth century, along with a group of talented students. We found a few books she had written, and that led us in the right direction. By the end of our third year, we thought we might know where one of the Vaults was.”

“Did you find it?”

“Yes. We found it at the top of a staircase hidden by enchantments on the fifth floor of the castle. It was locked, but we were certain that it was the Cursed Vault. Over the summer, we decided to track down the other Vaults, but when we got back for our second year, Jacob decided that we shouldn’t just try to find the Vaults, we should try and break the Curses, too. I was against it, but Duncan was for it, because he wanted to become a Curse-Breaker. So we did that.”

Madam Bones frowned. “If you were against it, why do it?”

“We took a vote and it was two against one,” Olivia Green said, as if that should have been obvious. “We always voted on these things, and always went with the majority.”

“How diplomatic.”

“Of course. We were a team, so whatever we did, we did together. At least, that’s what I thought,” Madam Green breathed. “I didn’t realise at the time, but Jacob had been doing a lot of research into the Vaults himself. After we broke the first curse, he started trying to work with other people, as well. With the group Professor Fortinbras had set up all those years ago. He found that they were still a group, and that they were still active. He called them-”

“R?” Madam Bones asked, and Olivia Green nodded her head in response.

“Exactly. He said that they would help us to break the curses. I didn’t trust them, but I was outvoted again.”

“Why didn’t you trust them?”

“They were too secretive. They wouldn’t say who they were, or exactly what they were doing, or who was in charge of them. I didn’t want to work with people like that.”

Frowning, Artemis whispered to Kingsley, “But she’s an Unspeakable…”

Kingsley glanced at Artemis with a knowing look in his eyes.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” he murmured back.

“After Jacob’s dad died,” Olivia Green continued, “he became even more secretive, and even more adamant that we should be breaking the curses. It was like he was trying to distract himself from what had happened. He spent more time alone, and more time with just him and Duncan. By the time we were in our sixth year, they had started taking orders directly from R, said they were going to join them in their search. When we found out that there was a dragon in one of the Vaults, I said that it was too much. If R knew so much, let them break their own curses. It was too dangerous. I wasn’t even of age. I wanted to stop, but-”

“You were outvoted?”

“Yes. But this time, I didn’t go along with them. I just left. They never listened to me anyway.”

“And so you managed to avoid Mr Ashe’s fate,” said Madam Bones. “Madam Green, one final question, if you please. Was Patricia Rakepick one of the members of R that Jacob Hexley contacted?”

“No.”

Artemis’ mouth dropped open, and she looked across at Kingsley, who had leaned forward in his seat, a curious look on his face. What was Madam Green talking about? Rakepick was a member of R. She had said so herself.

But Olivia Green wasn’t done.

“Not at first,” she continued. “Jacob found her separately. She was already a fairly well-known Curse-Breaker at that point, you see, so he wanted to get some advice. Probably she joined them after starting to search for the Vaults, like Jacob and Duncan did. I never had much to do with her. It was Jacob who always spoke to her.”

“Thank you, Madam Green. No further questions,” Madam Bones nodded her head at Olivia Green, who returned to the witness stands. The interrogator nodded to the court scribe, who stood up and passed her a pile of parchments. “Along with the testimony of Madam Green and Mr Borgin, I have here the transcripts of several interviews conducted in the later part of 1981. Mr Hexley was, in the summer of 1979, witnessed consorting with several persons of unsavoury reputation, including the Patricia Rakepick. He was further witnessed consorting with Madam Rakepick until the autumn of 1981, shortly before he disappeared.”

“My dear Madam Bones,” said Dumbledore, who had remained quiet throughout the testimonies of the other two witnesses, “Jacob Hexley is not on trial for talking to Patricia Rakepick, nor is talking to Patricia Rakepick a crime. Indeed, if it were, quite a few people in this courtroom might be trialled, myself included.”

“Hem hem,” said Madam Umbridge. “Jacob Hexley may not be accused of talking to Patricia Rakepick, but he is accused of working alongside her to commit criminal offences.” Several members of the court began to whisper, and Artemis’ stomach lurched uncomfortably as Umbridge continued, “According to the testimony of our last witness, he did willingly act under R’s orders, and was planning to join the organisation.”

“Ah,” Dumbledore smiled. “The operative word in that sentence is planning. We have heard no evidence to suggest that Mr Hexley joined the ranks of R, nor that he knew the extent of their criminality at the time he was considering doing so.” He glanced briefly at Jacob before adding, “Perhaps if Madam Bones - who is, after all, the chief interrogator in this case - were to question the defendant himself, he might be able to shed some light on the situation.”

“An excellent idea,” said Madam Bones, and she turned her attention fully towards Jacob. “Mr Hexley, the court has been presented with the evidence against you. Before we vote to reach our verdict, have you any words in your own defence?”

Artemis sat up straight in her seat. This was Jacob’s chance to explain himself, to make everyone see that he had been innocent all along, that he did not deserve to be sent to Azkaban. She craned her neck as she looked at him, willing that he would speak bravely in his own defence.

Still sitting in the wooden chair in the centre of the room, Jacob swallowed hard. He raised his head, looked Madam Bones in the eye, and told her:

“No.”

“No?” Madam Bones looked surprised. She wasn’t the only one; there were hushed murmurs from all corners of the courtroom. “You have nothing to say to defend yourself?”

“I do not,” said Jacob, calmly. “I am guilty of every offence laid at my feet. I willingly acted under the orders of R, wishing to become a member myself, fully aware of the illegality of this. I betrayed my friend Duncan-”

“Jacob, no!” Artemis spoke out loud without realising it.

“- Ashe to further my own ambitions,” Jacob continued on, seeming to ignore Artemis’ shout or the gasps from several onlookers. “His death wasn’t an accident. It was orchestrated by the Cabal, and my involvement proved my loyalty to them and my dedication to their cause.”

The murmurs around the courtroom grew louder still, and Artemis gripped the bench she was sitting on so hard her knuckles turned white. What was Jacob saying? This wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. She willed Jacob to stop talking, but he did not stop.

“I was obsessed with the Cursed Vaults, and thought that the Cabal was my key to them. I went missing to evade capture, I trespassed on the grounds of Hogwarts School, and I endangered more lives. I see now the error of my ways, and I know that am fully deserving of whatever punishment the Wizengamot and Council of Magical Law see fit to give me.”

As Jacob fell silent, Artemis found herself unable to speak. She stared at him, shaking her head, but he did not look at her. Instead, his eyes drifted in the opposite direction, towards the spectators’ benches, where their mother sat with her eyes closed, stock still among the whispering and fidgeting crowd.

The court took a few moments to settle. As the noise and movement began to subside, Madam Bones cleared her throat. 

“In that case, we shall vote,” she said. “All those who find the defendant innocent?”

Not a single hand went up. Professor Dumbledore gave Jacob a look that Artemis couldn’t read.

“And those who find him guilty?”

Artemis’ heart beat faster and faster as, one by one, the Wizengamot and the Council of Magical Law raised their hands into the air. Madam Bones lowered her own, conjured a small hammer, and knocked it. The noise seemed to echo in Artemis’ ears.

“Jacob Odysseus Hexley, you have been found guilty of all charges,” said Madam Bones, her tone matter-of-fact. “As such, you will be sentenced to a minimum of fourteen years in Azkaban prison. Further to this, your internment will be dependent on assessment of your character and any other evidence that may come forth before this time.”