❧ ᴏғ ʜᴏɴᴇʏ & ᴠᴇɴᴏᴍ

Miles seemed entirely too relaxed as he approached the source of the sound. Calliope on the other hand still had her wand held at the ready. These woods were far too unsettling to not be prepared for the worst. Then her partner pulled back the foliage of a bush and revealed the fattest ferret Calliope had ever seen.

“Barmy old codger!” She jumped at the sudden sound. Or perhaps the shock had been from the vulgar language the animal was throwing at them. Even after years in the wizarding world, Calliope found that she still had the capacity to be surprised every now and then.

“Barely made it out with my life, there,” Miles deadpanned. She glared at him.

Perhaps she had overreacted a bit. But in her defense, they were in what closely resembled the Forbidden Forest—which had always given her the creeps—while on the most dangerous mission of their lives. She was bound to be a bit jumpy.

“You can’t blame me for being overly cautious,” she grumbled, reluctantly putting her wand away.

“A Jarvey,” Miles explained. “I’m guessing the Windscar’s had one or two to defend the home from gnomes.” He had picked the creature up by the scruff of its neck while he spoke and examined it before settling the thing back into the dirt.

The animal looked vaguely familiar, but care of magical creatures hadn’t been Calliope’s favorite class by far. She’d done well enough, but hadn't spent much time thinking about it once exams were over.

“Thank you for the lesson, Professor.” Calliope mimicked his monotonous tone.

“Harmless, unless you have a shit ego. They can only speak in insults.”

“You better take cover then,” she muttered under her breath, though the forest was quiet enough that the surely heard her.

Her partner began to walk again only to be trailed by the creature. The Jarvey had seemingly taken an interest in the boy. Miles looked less than thrilled by his new entourage.

“Aw, it must think you’re its mum.” Calliope joked, eyeing the little thing. “I can see the family resemblance.”

It was marginally reassuring to have seen another living thing in these woods, as there was something incredibly eerie about walking and not hearing or seeing a thing. Then she had an even more chilling thought. Perhaps that had been intentional. Perhaps the creatures of the forest learned to be silent for a reason.

Calliope rubbed her arms, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the bite of the air. “Not to rush your special ferret time, but I’d like to get out of this forest tonight if at all possible.” She gave Miles and his new companion a wide berth as she walked past.

The two resumed their trek, only it seemed they had grown into a party of three as the Jarvey stuck close to Miles’ heels, harping insults all the way. Calliope was surprised it stuck with them the whole way, but she didn’t mind—she was actually growing fond of the little creature. If only because it said what she was thinking any time it hurled one of its quips at Miles. It was rather therapeutic. Though she had to admit, she was growing more and more nervous that it’s incessant chatter would draw the attention of something a little less harmless. The last thing they needed was an Acromantula crawling out of the shadows. She might have been a Gryffindor, but her bravery went out the windows where spiders were involved.

It was also bloody freezing. Calliope had lost count of the number of warming charms she’d cast on herself over the last few hours, and yet she was still keeping her jaw locked in an attempt to keep her teeth from chattering. So when Miles suggested they stop for the night, while hesitant about spending it within the confines of this damned forest, she’d nearly sagged with relief.

Her back ached as she shrugged her backpack off. Though she wouldn’t dare say as much. She didn’t need Miles thinking her any more of a liability than he already did. And Calliope knew she’d get used to the weight. Get used to the walking and the cold. Would hopefully get used to her partner’s morose presence.

She pulled her tent out of the pack and cast an erecto charm. In a matter of moments the canvas lifted into the air, constructed itself into the correct shape, and pinned itself down with a handful of stakes. Calliope popped her head inside. She’d managed a minor undetectable extension charm, with the Order’s permission, on the object before setting out to meet Miles. Though the interior of the tent was modest—nothing resembling some of the luxury camping tents she’d seen advertised—it was cozy. It was reminiscent of the Gryffindor common room, which was to say, it reminded her of home.

Upon entering, there was a small sitting area with a couple of chairs, a heaping of pillows and a maroon and gold rug. The sight of it made Calliope’s heart squeeze within her chest. She wished she hadn’t taken for granted all of those nights with her friends in the common room. There was also a set of canvas curtains that revealed a cot behind them, and a wood-fired stove against the side wall. On the stove top, sat a kettle. Calliope grabbed it, two mugs and bags of tea, before emerging back into the cold.

Miles had set his tent up in the time she’d slipped into hers, and she found herself curious as to what it looked like on the inside. Wondered if, like hers, it was cozy and warm or if it would remind her of what she’d heard the Slytherin common room was like. Cold. Dark.

“Aguamenti,” Calliope murmured, a stream of clean water pouring from the tip of her wand into the kettle. She then tapped the metal object—having gotten rather good at wordlessly casting the water heating charm—and poured the boiling water over her tea leaves. She didn’t pour one for Miles, merely left the empty mug next to the kettle—he could take it or not, but it couldn’t be said that she wasn’t at least trying to be friendly.

She sat and pawed through the options for dinner as her tea steeped. Which were few. And she knew they needed to ration as there was no telling how long this journey would take them, or how often they’d manage to find a town safe enough to restock. So Calliope settled on a granola bar and her tea—though she did toss a few pieces of jerky toward the Jarvey who was now sniffing around their makeshift campsite. She didn’t have the stomach for a proper meal anyways. The forest set her on edge. As had leaving Nox and her family behind. The uncertainty of the path before her was enough to throw Calliope into a panic. She’d never been a spur-of-the-moment type, and this mission was already taking her out of her comfort zone.

Her hands wrapped around the warmth of her mug as she leaned against her backpack. It wasn’t how she normally took her tea, with milk and a heaping of sugar, but it was warm and soothing—a comfort she would not take for granted.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a care of magical creatures type. You scream defense against the dark arts.” She’d said it with a hint of levity, though it was true. Their care of magical creatures professor had been kind and empathetic and warm—none of which were words she would use to describe Miles Hawthorne.

“Scurvy Braggart!” The Jarvey yelled. Though Calliope wasn’t sure at who its insult had been hurled.

“My thoughts exactly,” she quipped, taking a sip of her tea.

As much as he hated to admit it, the Gryffindor girl had a point.

Living constantly on edge had turned him into something barbed, twisted, and malicious. He was once a boy that insisted on becoming a Dragonologist when he became of age, or seeking out endangered magical creatures and using his determination to help rebuild countless species. Of course, that was a Miles that was not tainted by war or the reality of the world. Before he knew of blood and prejudice and everything that currently rested in his nightmares until it turned into his reality. He often missed being naive, of simply wanting to explore the world, rather than conquer it.

He still struggled with what he wanted. And quite often.

So, he ignored her babbling until they reached the edge of the forest. Calliope assured him that she could manage, though not without a bit of snark. Still, as she shot one last venomous retort toward him, Miles found himself not exactly annoyed, but surprised. He followed her into the forest, footsteps matching exactly where her’s once sat.

Their trek was a quiet one, though Miles didn’t mind. He was used to tense silence – had grown up with it all his life, left to stew and mold over everything alone. Despite the wind no longer assaulting them, the forest held its own kind of chill, one that ran deeper than skin. He was alert, thankful that his affiction with magical creatures and the like gave him a sense of peace he doubted Callie had. Of course, this forest likely housed the most terrifying of monsters, but he at least had his wits about him.

It was why he didn’t immediately panic at the snap of a twig.

The perpetrator wasn’t obscenely large, due to the gusto of the snap. He knew it wasn’t Calliope, and it was definitely not himself. Without a second thought, Miles began scanning the trees and the shadows that they garnered. Just because something was small, didn’t mean it wasn’t deadly. Like the Briarwood girl, for example.

He felt her eyes on him, but Miles did not meet her gaze. He continued his observation, taking note of every leaf, every vine, every shadow. It was only when Callie nudged him and gestured with his wand did he see the culprit.

His eyes followed the line of her gaze, locking in on the swift shadow that darted through the trees. The being was quick and agile, though as Miles looked closer, it was not obscenely large. About the size of a small dog. It skittered down a tree and leaped to the ground before rustling into a bush. An identifiable squeak caused Miles to curse under his breath, shake his head in annoyance, and stride forward. Over his shoulder, he passed Calliope a testy look, hoping the irritation seeping through his dark eyes could be felt even from his new position next to the bush.

Looking rightfully bored, he brushed the top of the bush aside, revealing a pudgy, curled-up Jarvey. The overgrown ferret gave Miles a seething glare, its frustrated squeaks echoing through the entire forest. Surely, whatever bloodthirsty beasts that resided in the shadows, unaware of their presence, were definitely fucking aware now.

“Barmy old codger!” screeched the Jarvey as it began furiously digging a random hole.

Miles looked to Callie. “Barely made it out with my life, there,” he deadpanned.

Sighing, already feeling a headache coming on, Miles picked up the ferret by the scruff, which forced the creature to screech. “A Jarvey,” he told his partner from his position. “I’m guessing the Windscar’s had one or two to defend the home from gnomes.”

On cue, the fat ferret hissed, “Obsolete dingbat!”

Unphased, Miles continued as the Jarvey dangled. “Harmless, unless you have a shit ego. They can only speak in insults.” He set the ferret back on the ground, where it resumed its senseless digging. He stepped over the creature and continued back to Callie.

Behind him, the small patter of fat, ferret feet, could be heard. He blinked and looked over his shoulder, noticing the beast resting at his heels, sniffing the air.

“Piss off,” he said to the Jarvey, brows furrowed in confusion.

The tension in the room was palpable after she spat out that first greeting. It was not Calliope’s finest moment, and certainly was not the way to make a good first impression on the partner she’d be spending the foreseeable future with—possibly dying with. But she was tired; she had a bone-deep weariness that had nothing to do with lack of sleep. And she didn’t feel like hiding her feelings for the sake of others any longer.

They left the house together, silently, and Calliope was almost glad for it. Maybe they could complete the mission in companionable silence, and then part ways as unlikely allies once it was all over, never to have to deal with one another ever again. That sounded good to her. Save the petty annoyances and focus on what was at stake—which was everything.

Then he told her to hurry up.

To his credit, she was falling behind. However, it didn’t help that every step he took was two of her own. Or the fact that he had set a brutal pace, to begin with. Callie was basically jogging just to keep up.

“Have you considered that some of us have short legs, Hawthorne?” She asked, rubbing her hands as the wind picked up.

“If my pace isn’t fast enough for you, you could just carry me through the forest,” she joked.

Callie braced herself again a strong gust of wind. It was cold. Why couldn’t You-Know-Who have started this conquest in, say, mid-spring, when things were warming up? She begrudgingly followed suit and cast a warming spell on herself. She felt it immediately spreading through her fingers and toes.

The forest loomed on the edge of the Windscar property. When Calliope had visited this place years ago, the girls hadn’t been allowed to enter. It had reminded her then of the Forbidden Forest, though the dangers hadn’t seemed as present. As children, they would try to get as close to the tree line as they dared before hearing the wind rustle the leaves or a twig snap, and they’d go running back toward the house screaming. Then they’d burst into giggling once they’d reached the safety of the house.

This was not like that. Holly was dead. The house was empty. And whatever lurked beyond the trees was more than figments of their imagination.

The pair paused as the tall grass of the field gave way to roots and moss. Callie cut Miles a sharp look when he asked if she could protect herself. What a self-righteous, self-assured bastard. And she was itching to tell him as much.

“We were both chosen for the same job, you know?” The words were out of her mouth before she thought better of them. “I am not some first-year who doesn’t know what she’s doing. The Order chose me just as well as they chose you.” She pulled her wand out. “So why don’t you worry about yourself, Miles?”

Callie took her first step into the forest as Miles continued to talk. She huffed a dry laugh. “Silence works for me,” she told him, her voice already hushed as the trees began to surround them. “Hopefully you can hold off on barking orders for long enough to get through the woods.” He didn’t deserve her life story anyways.

The moss quieted their steps more than the dead leaves in the field had. It smelled wet and earthy, and slightly of decay. The wind wasn’t as fierce now that they had the protection of the trees, but for some reason, it felt even colder here. Like the sun hadn’t permeated the canopy overhead in some time. It was also eerily quiet. Too quiet for a forest that should have had the skittering of insects and small animals, or the songs of birds, or anything else to prove that life existed in these woods.

They walked for some time; the silence was nearly overwhelming and definitely unsettling. Callie didn’t dare look back at Miles for fear of looking weak, but she was acutely aware of him behind her and she didn’t stray too far.

The snap of a twig underfoot was almost deafening. Callie looked down at her own feet but didn’t see the culprit, then looked back at Miles to see if it had been him. But her partner had gone still. Calliope felt her heart beating faster in her chest as she scanned the treeline for any possible threat. She saw something moving and nudged Miles.

“There,” she breathed, raising her wand.

He blinked at the bit of venom he heard lacing her tone, how a bewildered expression took over her face before she shielded it with one of boredom. With maybe even a bit of contempt. He didn’t have time to play games, for his father would be wanting updates on their success sooner rather than later. Dwelling on such trivial matters such as manners, as well as Calliope’s feelings, were two things he was signing off on.

Yet again, she was a Gryffindor. She practically reeked of it enough to cause him to scrunch his nose. Of course, she would bring up the tension already filling the air. And she had the idiocy to announce it, as well.

Miles already knew it was going to be a long journey.

As a muscle flexed in his jaw, and while she looked at him as if he were nothing but the mud beneath her boots, he followed her out of the home silently. Even his boots moved fluidly across the creaky floorboard – proving that he was more ghost than anything. A shell of the boy he once was. It was fitting.

Stepping out into the fresh air, an onslaught of wind immediately hit the pair, rustling his dark locks and causing a slight chill to creep up his spine. Reaching for his wand, Miles muttered a half-assed warming spell just before he stepped off the decaying porch and into the yellowed, tall grass. With the heavy wind, he was also quickly graced with Callie’s perfume. It danced across his nostrils and he had the urge to swipe at his nose because of it. Cutting his cold gaze to her, he jerked his chin in a demand to follow.

“Come on, I want to nearly make it out of the forest by nightfall. We have a lot of ground to cover.” The trees ahead reminded him of the forbidden forest back at school – almost holding the same type of menacing creatures, as well. Kingsley warned him before sending him off on the mission. The Windscar family chose this property exactly for that – having the forest as protection. Holly’s father was extremely paranoid, so much that it caused him to move his family out to the middle of nowhere. There wasn’t a neighbor in sight. Nothing except the trees and the shadows that lurked behind them. Werewolves… Acromantualas… The list went on. Not to mention the Snatchers that were probably lurking about, looking for any hunt or trophy to put them useful in the eyes of the Dark Lord. Most were so low on the totem pole that they were most likely unaware of the plan taking place. Saving his ass meant outing himself, and he couldn’t risk that. Not yet.

The walk was short and silent towards the trees. Nothing but the crunching of dead grass beneath their boots could be heard over the howling wind. With every step they took, the menacing treeline grew closer, and so did the pit festering inside his stomach. As the last bit of field began to merge with the dirt of the forest, Miles paused, his eyes searching the trees.

“I’m assuming you know how to protect yourself? I certainly can’t risk doing it for you.” His tone was stoic, in Slytherin fashion, but yet held a proper amount of annoyance, in Hawthorne fashion. “And I suggest we stay silent through the forest – can’t also risk getting eaten because you want to drawl on about your prosaic life story.”

Calliope had decided to tie up the loose ends in her life before she embarked on a suicide mission.

The last of which was ensuring Nox was safe—and getting one final glimpse of her family. Callie had spent so much of the last several years resenting them for not encouraging her, for not being excited for her, as she made a life at Hogwarts. But being faced with the possibility of never seeing them again, of never making things right, it was debilitating. Nearly as gut-wrenching as leaving Nox behind.

The little black cat had been with her every step of the way the last six years. He had been a steadfast companion as Calliope learned the ins and outs of wizard society, as she rose to the top of her class, and as He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named tilted her entire world on its axis.

She’d written a note, and tied it to Nox’s collar for her family. She’d told them that she would be so busy this summer that Nox would be bored. She implied that he would be happier with them as her mother tended to spoil him when they infrequently visited. Callie did not say when she would return—did not even say that she would. Just that she loved them and thanked them for everything. It was a goodbye dressed in a pretty lie.

Though her goodbye to Nox was anything but. Calliope couldn’t stop the tears that rolled down her cheeks as she held him in her arms. He rubbed his face against hers and tucked his head under her chin. He purred, content to be held like this. Nox knew she was upset—as all animals can sense such things. They sat that way for a long moment until Callie got the courage the take his face in her hands and kissed the tip of his nose.

“Be a good boy,” she told him, scratching briefly under his chin before she placed him on her parents’ doorstep and rang the bell.

Calliope hid behind the stone garden gate as her mother answered the door. She watched from the darkness as Nox rubbed against the older woman’s legs. “Hello, darling,” her mother cooed while looking around for her daughter. To the woman’s defense, Callie and Nox had been attached at the hip since first year. But when she didn’t see her, her mother bent down and pulled the note from his collar and read it. Nox looked in Callie’s direction and meowed once before her mother shut the door behind them.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe. Callie leaned her head against the wall and gave herself five seconds to wallow, to fall apart, to be an 18-year-old girl who had lost everything she cared about. It was more than five seconds. But once she’d allowed herself to cry, she forced herself to put the pieces back together and face the enormity of the task before her.

It had been the greatest honor of her life when Calliope had been asked to join the Order. And it had been even greater when she was asked to locate the Horcruxes after Harry’s disappearance. That thought filled her chest with the familiar ache of loss. Not just the loss of hope—but of a friend. He, along with the rest of Dumbledore’s Army, had been her friends. Had become a second family. And Callie had been willing to sacrifice everything for that family, for the life she wanted to make before You-Know-Who threatened to take it all away.

Callie wasn’t sure why the Order gifted her this task. Perhaps it had been her dedication to the cause, or her high marks in school, or her friendship with Harry and the rest of Dumbledore’s Army, or if simply they could spare her while everyone else looked for the true savior of this war. Either way, she would not fail them. And when she heard who her partner in this task would be, Callie couldn’t help but feel apprehensive.

She hadn’t known Miles Hawthorne personally. Despite the handful of classes they had shared over the years, particularly as first years, Callie had never spoken to him. But everyone had heard of him. Knew of his family’s dark ties. She had never heard whether or not Miles shared the same ideology as his parents—his father in particular—but that close of an affiliation with You-Know-Who was frankly, too close for comfort in Calliope’s opinion. But she was not in a position to question the will of the Order, nor did she lack faith in their judgement. So, she would do what she was tasked to do—but she would keep a close eye on him all the same. It was paramount in this war that trust was not given to those undeserving of it.

Calliope took one last steadying breath. One final glimpse at her home. All she had left in the world was locked behind those doors. She raised her wand and apparated directly into the foyer of Windscar Manor.

She had been there once before. Holly had been a friend in school, a year older than her. A prefect of Gryffindor house. One summer, early in Calliope’s education, she’d been invited to spend a week with a handful of their friends at the manor. It had been a wonderful reprieve from the normalcy she had to endure every summer at home with her parents. Back then, the house had been full of light and warmth. If houses had souls, this one’s had been sucked dry.

She and Holly had drifted apart over the years. But when she’d heard about her death, it had still struck a horrible blow. So many of her friends had died. How many more would join them before this war was over? Would she be among them?

Still a bit off-kilter from her apparition, Callie had nearly missed the creak of a floorboard in the next room. Her body reacted without hesitation, her wand raised and steadied her aim. She entered the great room on soft feet only to find Miles with his wand pointed in her direction as well. Apparently, she had not been as quiet as she’d thought. Callie only lowered her wand when he did.

She bristled at the way he spoke, pure Slytherin. No greeting. Straight to business. Perhaps given the business they were undergoing that was the best course of action. They weren’t friends. At best, they would be colleague. Allies. Still, she couldn’t help herself.

“Hello to you too,” just because they were at war didn’t mean manners had gone out the window. She was English after all. Still, she nodded at his admission. At least they had the box. There would be no getting out of this mission alive without it. Or at least, without being tainted by the evil the Horcruxes possessed.

“Sounds promising.” It was news to Callie that the Order had a lead on any of the Horcruxes and she was silently cursing out everyone who had withheld that information from her. She hated going into a situation unprepared. And even more than that, she hated Miles having the upper hand.

She nodded as he suggested returning to the manor should anything go wrong, though she did not care for the tone he held. Like he was in charge. They were supposed to be partners, after all. “Agreed,” she told him dryly.

“Then lets not waste any time, shall we?” She asked, looking Miles dead in the eyes. Callie stepped around him and headed straight for the door.

He watched the gnats congregate over the small, still pond. Heard the slight flutter of wings of birds overhead as they headed towards the treeline, right outside the dusty window. It only accented that, currently, the Windscar Manor was safe. A sense of normalcy had returned to this quaint, lone home in the middle of a decaying field. And yet normal was a word Miles was once positive he’d never hear again. If it meant putting on a brave face and knowing that the blood that spilled across a field – his classmates' blood – should have been his, then he didn’t want it. He had felt this way for too long. Had carried the weight of his blood far too long.

Living shouldn’t be so draining, he thought. He much preferred life when he was merely a boy. When blood was simply blood, and not a signature on a death certificate.

Nausea rolled in the pit of his stomach as he stood alone inside the manor, waiting for her. Calliope Briarwood was a name he had heard briefly, a face he remembered vaguely. He arrived at Hogwarts the same year she had, and they both shared that hopeful wonder those first few years before they realized magic couldn’t cure everything. Finishing his education had since been put on hold, considering Hogwarts was currently occupied by a swarm of death eaters – tainting something that once brought him comfort, but now only served as a reminder. Of how fragile life truly was. Not that his father was too put off about the idea of him never returning to the school. Jesper had his stipulations about Dumbledore for years and, after the old man was murdered, Miles faintly remembered his father having a bit more pep in his step the following days after. He wasn’t even allowed to attend his old headmaster's funeral, for the death eaters had… work to do.

And Miles was now one of them.

Even though his dark mark was glamoured by a patch of impressive magic, given to him by the Dark Lord himself, Miles could still feel the sting across his forearm. Could still feel Voldemort’s hollow eyes boring into him as he received it. It should have been an honorable deed – something that would have filled the empty pockets festering within himself.

However, Miles felt like nothing more than a walking corpse.

Walking through those doors again, eventually, hopefully, might be one of the hardest battles he would have to face. Wearing the face of a comrade, while having to bare the heart of a traitor was a strange, yet almost powerful feeling. He couldn’t lie, there was some part of him that favored the immunity and courage he felt while living undercover. He was protected on both sides. That, if he played his cards right, he would come out of this war alive. What a childish thing to hope for.

Strapped across his back was a pack, charmed with an undetectable extension so he was able to fit multiple changes of clothes, a few books that might assist him on the journey, nonperishable food, a blanket, some potions, and a single tent with camping supplies. While the Order chipped in and handed him some money, for emergency uses only, he and Calliope would have to grow comfortable with being… uncomfortable.

Well, he was already halfway there.

Miles was to check in with his father every week, one way or another, who would then update the Dark Lord on his progress. He had released Kai months ago, right after the war started, but the bird tended to visit every now and then and still carried letters from time to time. The Order knew of Kai, as well as the death eaters, so the messages getting intercepted would be highly unlikely. All he needed to do was make sure that the prying eyes of the Gryffindor stayed out of his business.

It hadn’t been easy getting the Order to trust him. Miles had gone through countless hours of interrogation – some tactics that have could even be considered borderline torture. After Dumbledore was murdered, his father immediately informed him of the scheme that was to take place without ever giving Miles the option to bow out. He needed this – his family needed this. His father tossed him just enough information about the Dark Lord’s army for him to bargain with, but not enough to where their plans could be ambushed. He did the rest.

They made sure their plan was foolproof. Miles didn’t know how he felt about that.

As if on cue, the snapping sound of someone apparating into the manor caused him to nearly jump out of his skin. His hand instinctively went for his wand and he raised it at the figure. A dueling stance – one that came too easily to him, nowadays. However, once he spotted her brunette hair, petite build, and the assessing eyes of Calliope, he lowered his wand.

“I have it,” he told her dryly and as a way of greeting. It pertained to the charmed box Kingsley had mentioned to them – how it would hold the Horcruxes without the nefarious magic tainting their wellbeing. With Harry ‘missing’ and the Order’s efforts mostly skewed toward finding him, obtaining Voldemort’s Horcruxes were passed along to the unlikely pair. A decision he was doubting more and more with every passing minute.

Still keeping his distance from Calliope, Miles continued. “Moody gave us a lead on the diary – the basement of the Paragon Library. In Wiltshire. A two day journey.” He adjusted the straps of his backpack and shifted his weight. The wood groaned beneath his dragonhide boots. Windscar manor belonged to a member of the Order – a girl named Holly who was killed only a month ago. Her parents, three months prior. The home sat empty until now, but it still felt like an invasion of privacy being here, even with the property given to Order willingly. It was in the middle of nowhere and practically falling apart at the hinges. White sheets covered what furniture remained and the entire place had a thick layer of dust on all surfaces. While he was ready to be free of the heavy weight of death that the manor held, their task outside of these walls wasn’t any better. If anything, it would weigh him down even more.

“If anything goes wrong, we should apparate back here.” His voice held a sense of authority he learned from his father, as well as his fellow house members. Miles was chosen for this task because of his ‘past’ affiliation. Even though most members refused to trust him, with good reasoning, he was the only person in the Order that could help find the Horcruxes.

Why they chose the Briarwood girl, he wasn’t sure.

eighteen ; heterosexual ; born april 10th ; aries ; 5 feet 3 inches

WAND: spruce wood, phoenix feather core, 12 3/4 inches, slightly springy flexibility

PATRONUS: swallow

BOGGART: herself failing to protect who and what she loves

FAVORITE CLASS: charms

QUIDDITCH POSITION: chaser

PET: black cat named nox

Before Calliope came to Hogwarts, she had believed so fiercely in magic. And when her letter came she had raved that she had known, in her bones, that there was something more out there. Coming from a muggle family, Calliope felt like she’d had more to prove than others in her class and had worked diligently to prove that she belonged there. And while many of her classmates went home for holidays, Calliope stayed behind. Her parents were nice enough, though not entirely supportive of her entrance into magical society—they wanted her to do something practical. But Hogwarts was home. Which is why she would do anything to save it.

. . . . .

WAND: rowan wood, dragon heartstring core, 13 inches, supple flexibility PATRONUS: black stallion BOGGART: beatrice hawthorne

FAVORITE CLASS: care of magical creatures

QUIDDITCH POSITION: seeker PET: grey owl named kai