Chapter 4

It was gradually rolling to the end of September, and Suka's schedule was already jam-packed with classwork, studying, and essays galore. It didn't bother her much, aside from it interrupting her research on occasion.

She could handle the heavy workload, probably because she felt like Touka Kirishima as a teacher had been slightly more complicated. Hide had Touka teaching her since she couldn't attend schools herself, considering the CCG knew her face, and she was very much still a wanted ghoul.

And man was Touka strict. Last she heard, she was going into her 2nd year of college when Suka had left for Hogwarts.

After the first week of school, Umbridge was appointed 'High Inquisitor' of Hogwarts. Almost every class fell under her watchful eye from the classrooms' corners, taking notes and asking students and teachers questions. Umbridge had taken a dislike for her, well more than she already had for most children.

Suka believed this stemmed from the professor not getting any information on Suka's "family matters" that had pulled her out of class. And Suka had taken to merely staying silent, or just replying with an abrupt "no comment" whenever the pink-clad woman came to her with her questions. Which, of course, didn't help, but it was amusing to see Umbridge's reactions.

Suka was sitting in the Slytherin common room with Higgs, who was working on a Charms essay. Suka sat cozily leaning against the arm of the sofa with a book in her lap. It was another one she'd borrowed from the restricted section despite the book title and a lot of the paragraphs within being in a different language. It wasn't in any language she had seen before, but at least she didn't have to hide it from others.

The title was a small squiggly text that she couldn't, for the life of her, make out. There were English texts in the book that she could read, but she was very curious about the text she couldn't. The text kind of hurt her eyes if she stared at it too long. Perhaps she could find someone to translate it if she ever figured out what precisely the language was.

"Mosukuwa," someone called. Suka looked up from her reading to look at one of the 3rd year boys standing by the entrance; the door cracked a bit.

"Yes?"

"Um, Potter's out there asking for you; Harry Potter. He said that Snape told him to come to get you."

The boy and the other students around to hear looked skeptical and scoffed at the unbelievable excuse. Suka could understand why. Why would Snape send Harry Potter, of all people, to come to get one of his house students?

"Potter?" Higgs snorted. "He's brave and dumb coming down here. He by himself?"

The 3rd year nodded with a smirk forming on his face. Suka could see where this was heading.

"Let's not jump the boy," Suka snickered, shutting her book and getting to her feet. "I doubt we'd want the headmaster on our backs, right? This is the Golden Boy, after all."

Suka grabbed her bag, tucking the book under her arm, and headed out of the common room without another word.

Sure enough, Potter stood in a somewhat defensive stance in the hallway. Once the entrance shut entirely behind her, she grabbed his wrist, careful of his hand, which she knew was bleeding and injured once again, and pulled him down the hall.

Suka hadn't spoken to the boy since she'd healed him the first time, and she knew that he'd gotten more detentions after that. But she had been too preoccupied with school and her own stuff, and she hadn't had the opportunity to corner him alone. Besides, he was avoiding her, she knew. So she was surprised that he'd willingly sought her out, even coming to the heart of the "Snake Pit." Stupid, brave Gryffindor.

They entered an empty classroom, and Suka cast a silencing and locking charm to ensure their privacy, which she was sure that Potter preferred.

"Another detention?" Suka asked, setting her wand and the book on a nearby desk. Suka placed her bag on the floor next to it.

"That obvious?" Potter grunted, his tense shoulders relaxing slightly when she'd placed her wand down.

"A bit," Suka admitted with a sheepish smile, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm glad that you came and got me, though, rather than just suffering on your own. You seemed very adamant about not going to any of the adults around here."

Suka pulled two desk chairs over and placed them facing each other, sitting down. She looked at Potter and smirked. "Is this going to be a repeat of last time?" She asked, amused, holding out her hand.

"I wouldn't be here if that were the case," Harry said, still somewhat hesitant as he sat in the seat across from her and placing his scared hand in hers. He shivered as the back of his hand became warm and wet, and the salvia was spread over the wound. He glanced over at the table as Mosukuwa leaned back and let the saliva sit for a moment before cleaning up his hand with a napkin.

He pointedly ignored the gentle way she dealt with his wound, and his eyes fell on the book, turning his head to the side to try and make out the cover title. His eyes widened, and his body stilled. Necromantiae aliisque doubus Ritualibus. What was she doing with a book like that and carrying around openly too?

He swallowed hard. "Why do you have that?"

"Huh?" Suka reacted, releasing the boy's newly healed hand. She watched it fall back into his lap, and his fingers were clenched, and she watched as he leaned over and snatched her book off the table.

"A book?" She said slowly, confused.

"On necromancy?"

"You can read the title?" She asked.

"Yes," Potter snapped impatiently, waving the book in front of her face. "Can you not?"

Suka shook her head. The cover title was still that same squiggling lines, and she knew some of the content inside was the same. "I actually can't read a lot of it. Some of the book is just regular English, but the rest are just these squiggly lines. No language I've ever seen."

The 7th year shrugged, taking the book from the Gryffindor and flicking through its pages. The book was clearly about rituals, at least the English parts were. They talked about rituals and their corresponding spells.

"Dark" is what most would call this nowadays, though Suka did not see where they get that idea. Most practices listed were just magic enhancing and soul connecting. Rituals centered around Samhain and Yule, speaking on their traditions and significance to magic. Suka herself was considering looking more into these, but other than that, it was just some light reading for her.

"Squiggly lines?" Potter snatched the book back from the girl and just ignored the abrupt "Hey!". Then recognition dawned on him.

"What?" Suka asked, taking in the change on Potter's face.

"It's parseltongue..." Potter whispered.

She echoed him with a raised eyebrow.

"It's snake language," he said after a moment of silence. He looked up at her, then away again as if she would react negatively to that information.

Suka took the book back, facing the cover at him. "So, what's it say?"

Jade eyes snapped to meet hers, expansive and kind of hopeful. "You don't care that I'm a parselmouth?"

"Should I?"

"W-Well, most people believe it's an evil trait," he said. "Only Salazar Slytherin and his descendants like Voldemort can speak it, a hereditary trait of Dark Wizards. B-Besides me, of course," He rushed to say. "That's why everyone believed I was the heir of Slytherin back during 2nd year, I-"

"Have you not heard about any of this?" Potter asked.

"Besides people saying that you're an attention-seeking madman, I haven't heard anything. Then again, I tend to ignore gossip if it doesn't involve me. I doubt I'd be getting the correct story anyway."

Suka smirked teasingly. "Unless you are this "Heir of Slytherin" character?"

"No." came the instant reply.

Suka chuckled. "I'm just fucking with you. But, for real, what does it say?"

"Necromantiae aliisque doubus Ritualibus. 'Necromancy and other Rituals,'" Potter said with narrowed eyes. "Where did you get this?"

She started flicking through the pages again.

"The restricted section," she admitted rather nonchalantly.

The rituals and information centered around the necromancy aspect must be the part in parseltongue—a pretty efficient way of protecting information that you wouldn't want others to be able to know.

"And why would you want to read something like that?" Potter looked much like he did the first night. Rigid and ready to run, and a hint of dread within his jade eyes. Suka cocked her head to the side and gave a simple response.

"Just looked interesting."

"You think dark magic is interesting?" He asked in an incredulous tone.

Mosukuwa had a pensive expression on her face before speaking. "In theory, yes. A lot of the things people label as dark magic isn't dark at all. Usually, they just lack understanding, and they fear change and things they are unfamiliar with. Anything can be dark if you want to go by the Ministry and society's way of seeing things."

Harry got to his feet abruptly, the chair shoving back and the legs dragging on the floor.

"It's illegal, the practice!" He blurted, almost frantically. "It taints your soul, your entire being doing rituals and spells like that!"

Mosukuwa's eyes narrowed, a look coming upon her face that Harry had not seen before in their short encounters. It was hard, and it had him flinching back. Her glare rivaled even Snape's!

"Yes, some can do that," She said, her tone a bit lower than before, icier. "But that's the keyword: some. The only thing that can really decide what is dark and what is light, if you want to stay in black and white scenarios, is one's intent."

"Intent?" Harry repeated slowly, deficiency still evident on his face and in his posture. His eyes even darted between Mosukuwa and the door, much like that night.

But he made no moves to make a run for it. Mosukuwa's face softened a bit, and she tenderly reached forward and grabbed hold of his wrist, disregarding the tension she felt there.

Potter seemed...frightened of her and wary. Her heart clenched. She wondered why he would come to her a second time if this were the case. He allowed her to bring him into a room alone with her, a space under a silencing charm and a locking charm, even after the way she ambushed him before.

"I'm sorry, I'm very direct," she said smoothly, pulling on his wrist. "Please, hear me out."

The side of her mouth went up to form a crooked smile as the boy slowly lowered himself back into the chair.

"Thank you," Mosukuwa said, freeing his wrist. She missed the slight redness that dusted his cheeks, much to Harry's relief.

"Now, let me give an example of what I mean when I say 'intent' because sometimes people need a scenario or an analogy to fully be able to grasp a concept." Mosukuwa placed the book to the side on the table. "Take the curse 'Reducto.' It's a useful spell, no?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I used it last year during the third task."

"To do what?"

"Cedric, he was being attacked by roots; they were dragging him. I used 'Reducto' to get him out."

She clapped her hands together. "Okay. That's perfect! Now, that would be considered a 'light' spell, right? Because your intent wasn't to harm; it was to rescue and protect your friend."

Mosukuwa lifted her hand up, her palm facing her, and her fingers spread. "However, if I were to use that spell to blast a person's fingers off one by one..." she trailed off, flicking her spread fingers with her other hand.

Harry recoiled. "You're torturing someone."

"Exactly. So then, with the logic we're going by, that spell would need to be sent under the 'dark' classification."

She continued. "I feel that you can't really put magic under such a strict category of just dark and light. Magic isn't a being or a thing you can just place into human-made categories."

She fell silent, allowing what was said to sink in. It was broken when Mosukuwa asked Harry if he could teach her this parseltongue. He shifted in his seat.

"I don't think it's something that can really be taught..."

"Wouldn't hurt to try," she shrugged. "Could you maybe translate the text then?"

Harry shot her a look, which she rolled her eyes at. "I'm not going to do anything with it. I'm honestly just curious. Besides, understanding things that an enemy could possibly use against you, or maybe whatever ritual that gives them an advantage can be a good thing."

"...I suppose it couldn't hurt, but..."

"What if I gave you something in return?" Mosukuwa suggested.

Harry leaned forward, elbows resting on his thighs. "I don't want anything."

He watched the older girl stand. "I don't know a whole lot about your situation, or your war with this Dark Lord person-"

"You believe that Voldemort is really back?" Harry demanded, eyes widening. That was unexpected. He'd spent the last few weeks, hell all summer even, being openly called a maniac. He was said to be lying about everything for attention by the Ministry and the wizarding world. He faced constant defamation outside of Ron and Hermione, and those in the Order. It was sort of...exhilarating.

"I have no reason not to," Mosukuwa answered. "But I have no plans of involving myself in it anyway. But you're the hero, right? The guy destined to defeat the bad guy?"

He made a face but nodded. "That's one way to put it, I guess," he said cautiously.

"Is anyone training you?" She enquired. "Clearly, you aren't learning anything with the trash ass professor we have this year, but have you been taught anything to defend yourself?"

Harry thought for a moment. "...Besides the Patronus Charm I learned in the third year...and maybe information about the Unforgivables last year. I can throw off the Imperius curse fairly easily. But outside of that, not really."

As those words left his mouth, awareness slowly seeped in. He had been beyond lucky, the fact that he was still alive after all his encounters with Voldemort, not even counting the situations outside of those! In terms of survival, it was genuinely luck-based because he certainly had been at a disadvantage.

The 7th year was wandering around the room as he spoke before finally coming to a stop in front of him, forcing him to look up. Her hair had a curly wet look to it, he noticed, a little frizzy, but not like Hermione's natural textured hair. She had a bronzy shimmer on her eyelids that reflected off the light of the room a bit, and her lips were a dark rosy red. Gryffindor colors. They looked very nice on her.

Harry snapped his gaze away, his face burning up when he realized where his focus was. He concentrated on what she was saying, ignoring his heart that definitely wasn't picking up speed!

"Would you like me to tutor you in return for you translating the text for me? I've learned quite a bit in my short time here and with my own research. It can be beneficial for both of us."

"You just said you had no plans of involving yourself. You helping me is very much getting involved, at the source, in fact."

"No offense, but you're a sitting duck, and it's not like it'll kill me to help. And again, we're both getting something out of it."

This is the Wizarding World's only hope? You'd think they'd be preparing him in some way, Suka thought.

She could understand them wanting him to have a childhood, be a regular teen. Still, at the same time, he could be killed so quickly, and his chances of survival lessened the longer he remained unprepared. Luck would only take you so far...

"I'll keep what I teach you within the box of your 'moral' code if that would make you more comfortable."

Harry lamented, almost in defeat. "Alright, but how do we go about this? Umbridge practically the entire school watched, and a Slytherin and a Gryffindor being seen together would certainly raise suspicions, not to mention that the Gryffindor in question is me."

"Leave that to me," she said, smiling. "I'm sure we can find something."

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Harry heard back from her the next morning, sooner than he'd expected. It was a Friday, and thankfully Harry had been up for actually eating something that morning.

Hedwig came swooping down with the other owls along the lengths of the house tables, dropping off the mail. His snowy owl dropped a copy of the Daily Prophet (which he just passed over to Hermione without a second glance) and a small folded paper that wasn't even in an envelope. He handed Hedwig a few bacon pieces before she took off and unfolded the paper, confused.

Meet me before breakfast ends. In that classroom from yesterday. ~M.S.

Harry glanced up at the Slytherin table across the hall. It was one of the days that the Slytherin actually showed up in the Great Hall for meals, at least from what he saw once he started paying more attention to her in the past week. She skipped meals a lot, mostly lunches and dinners.

But when she did attend, she usually sat with the other 7th year Slytherins, same as today, and Draco Malfoy and his posse. Though that may be because he was close to Higgs.

Her hair was in a high ponytail today, with two loose sections that framed the sides of her face. Her makeup was the same as before, from what Harry could make out at that distance. It was most likely her everyday go-to look.

A hand-loomed suddenly in front of his face and snapped, the sound bringing him back to the table. He shook his head and looked at Hermione, who had leaned over the table.

"Are you okay?" She asked, sitting back down now that she had his attention again. "You spaced out."

"Sorry," Harry responded.

"Who's the note from?" Ron questioned, his voice stifled from the food stuffed in his mouth. "Snuffles?"

"No, it's..." He paused. Should he tell them what he'd be doing?

The petty side of him told him no. After the events of 4th year, they had been all cooped up comfortable in Grimmauld's Place. And Harry had been stuck with the Dursleys with no letters and no news of what had been going on in the Wizarding World.

He'd been wholly isolated all because "Dumbledore had told them not to say anything." Left in the dark on everything when the majority of it concerned him!

This was why he'd agreed to the plan, because despite his wariness of the girl, Mosukuwa was right. It was unimaginably absurd for them to be treating him like this. Harry hated when he sounded self-centered or as if the world revolved around him, but he was Voldemort's primary target, and he needed to protect himself and those he loved around him.

But then there was the other side of him that still wanted his friends to at least be aware of his whereabouts and who he was with. He wasn't fearful of the Slytherin. More on the side of caution at this point. There was more to Mosukuwa than what was presented on the surface; he was sure of it!

He sighed. "Mosukuwa wants me to meet her before breakfast ends," he said quietly, aware that they were still seated at the crowded table. People loved to eavesdrop, especially nowadays. Hermione instantly casted a 'muffliato' spell around the trip while Ron gave a grunted "Who?"

"The Slytherin exchanged student?" Hermione inquired, her eyebrows rising on her forehead. Harry nodded dubiously.

"How do you even know her?"

The jade-eyed boy cringed. He'd overlooked that they weren't exactly in the loop of his interactions with Mosukuwa. He quickly did the necessary things anyway, like her healing him and the deal they'd made.

"She's going to be tutoring me, in defense, I believe, in exchange for me translating this book for her." Harry pulled out the book and placed it on the table amongst the plates of food.

There was no point in hiding it, only he was able to read the cover.

"It's in parseltongue," he explained as Hermione took the text, running her hand over the surface with a confused look upon her face. "There are passages in English, but for the most part, it's parseltongue."

Hermione nodded in understanding, placing the book back down.

"So, that's what you were doing last night," Ron said, peering at the book curiously. Harry raised a questioning eyebrow. "You were up for a while, mate. I may be a heavy sleeper, but your desk lamp is kind of bright."

"That also explains why you came back healed last night and the week before. Healing saliva..." Hermione muttered, a look of pondering flashing on her face. She turned to look over her shoulder at the Slytherin table, only to quickly whip back around with an awkward squeak. "She's looking at us."

Hermione ran a hand over her mouth. "Perhaps she has creature blood in her line..." Hermione was speaking more to herself than her friends now. "I've never heard of such a thing."

It seemed that Hermione was on the same line as Harry. That there was more to this girl than meets the eye.

He glanced over Ron's shoulder, and sure enough, she was looking at them. Their eyes met and held each other's gazes for a moment until Mosukuwa quirked an eyebrow and gave a crooked smile. He had to break their staring contest.

"Harry, are-are you blushing?" Ron asked.

"N-No!" Harry ran his fingers under his round glasses in an attempt to mask what he knew was his red-tinted cheeks. His skin may be on the more tanner side, but it still let through the physical side of embarrassment, unfortunately. He cursed this fact bitterly.

"You should keep away anyway," Ron remarked, taking another bite of his food. "She's a Slytherin. Who knows what she could be up to. This isn't like before this year where it was all relatively harmless pranks and bullying."

"You think I'm not already perfectly aware of that," Harry snapped, putting the book back into his back next to the notebook he'd dedicated to the translations.

He'd finished a few pages, and the stuff he had translated was...very much disturbing to read, let alone write out in English. And he had barely gotten out of the Introduction! Yet, he had to agree with Mosukuwa to a small extent. It was a bit interesting.

He sighed. "But she is offering something I can use. I decided to tell you everything on the off chance that something does happen. You know who I'll be with."

"You can not be bloody serious, mate?!" Ron exclaimed loudly. Thank Merlin, Hermione had put up that charm.

"I'm dead serious."

"She's a Slytherin!"

"And?"

"And, AND?! You-"

"Ronald," Hermione asserted, cutting in before the boys could get any more heated than they already were. Their relationship was still kind of tense from the year before, and she sometimes worried that there might be a repeat of it. Only worse, with them breaking their friendship completely.

"While you do have a point, Ron," she said, watching the redhead closely. "So does Harry. It can be helpful. Mosukuwa is an older year, and she's technically an outsider in a way with being an exchange student. So, she could give us a different view of things because she isn't being obscured with having been grown up here."

She glanced at Harry. "Plus, it can help Harry with his own teachings."

"Can't believe I let you guys talk me into that," the Boy-Who-Lived grumbled. Hermione ignored him.

"If she's any good at tutoring you, you can bring what you learned from her to us and the others that might join."

"So they agreed to meet?" Ron asked, the red face and aggression from moments before had mostly disappeared, leaving behind slight irritation and disbelief.

"Hogsmeade weekend next week is our only opportunity, really," said Hermione.

Harry hummed, glancing across the hall again to see Mosukuwa getting up to leave. He caught her eye as she was going, and she raised two fingers briefly before passing around the corner.

"She wanted me to wait two minutes," Harry told his friends. He cut off Ron before he could say anything, looking sharply at him. "I'm going."

"Well, at least she's discreet about it," Hermione sighed. "You don't have a class off after breakfast, do you?"

Harry rolled his eyes. Of course, Hermione was worried about classes. "No, not until 11, and that's Transfiguration, which all three of us have. So if I don't show up for that, you're allowed to panic."

Harry rose and grabbed his bag. Before he could go far, his wrist was seized by a freckled hand.

"Just be careful, okay," Ron said, looking intently and very serious. Harry could see concern swimming in the blue eyes of his best friend, and Harry relaxed a bit and smiled tenderly, nodding. Ron nodded back and seemed to realize the rather affectionate act he'd just pulled, and clumsily let go. Harry chuckled to himself and left for the classroom.

The two watched him go, and finally, Hermione let down the charm. Ron still felt exasperated about the whole thing, but he knew Harry was stubborn and annoyingly self-sacrificing. The redhead turned back to his plate.

"I knew he had a thing for Asian girls, but you'd think he'd draw the line at the slimy snakes-"

A slap sounded, and it was followed by a pained yelp and a whine of "Hermione!" as the redhead clutched his arm.

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Harry made it to the classroom and stopped in his tracks when he got inside, and Mosukuwa wasn't in the room. His stomach kind of dropped in disappointment. Perhaps she hadn't been as serious about this as he assumed? No, she had to be to an extent. He still had her book, and she seemed really adamant about wanting those translations.

His inner turmoil didn't last much longer when the Slytherin finally came through the door, making him jump. She stared at him as she shut the door and casted a 'muffliato' spell.

"You okay?" She asked, looking worried.

"M'fine," Harry said as she approached.

"Sorry, I wasn't in here before you," she apologized sheepishly. "Flint held me up for a bit."

Mosukuwa had a fond look on her face as she chuckled. He didn't understand how one could look like that when thinking of Flint, of all people. Harry winced and shook his head internally. He didn't know Flint, so he had no place to feel like that.

"Anyways," Mosukuwa said. "We have a two-hour window to get this done and so that your little friends don't go on a manhunt if you don't show up for class."

"How did you-"

Mosukuwa waved her hand at him dismissively and ignored him. "Now, I asked around about what was going on during your 2nd year. Not for the story itself; if I wanted that, I'd ask you. Is there really a Chamber of Secrets?"

"And the chamber beast? Is it still there?"

"There was," Harry responded, feeling pleased that Mosukuwa wasn't taking others' words and gossip as fact when they didn't know the real story. "A basilisk, but it's dead. It's probably pretty much decomposed by now."

Mosukuwa blinked. Once. Twice. "A basilisk? You left a dead fully grown basilisk in some hidden chamber under the school?"

"...yes...?"

"Potter, those are extremely rare creatures. Even a dead one could go for a lot of money, mainly for their scales, fangs, and venom. Especially their venom! And you left it there?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably at the reminder of the basilisk venom. He knew first hand the effects of it. Then he huffed. "Sorry for not thinking about how much the creature could make me when I was fighting for my fucking life and was at risk of fucking dying from its venom."

"Fair enough," Mosukuwa said with a shrug. "So, there is a chamber, and the basilisk is dead. We can use that as our area. I assume that no one can get in easily unless they can speak parseltongue. Where's the entrance."

"Moaning Myrtle's bathroom."

"Who?"

"Uh, she's the ghost that haunts the first-floor girls' bathroom," Harry clarified. Mosukuwa must not have come across the dead student before. "She doesn't leave the bathroom often, but she was killed by the basilisk there around 50 years ago."

"We should be able to get in without much trouble. The girls tend to avoid that bathroom because of Myrtle."

"Great! We can work with that!" Mosukuwa grinned. "We should go check it out."

Harry nodded; they had the time. At least he did. He wondered if Mosukuwa had a free period like he did or if she was just skipping class for this. If that was the case, he hoped it wasn't Umbridge's class she was missing. He'd hate to see her have one of the Toad's detentions.

"You go ahead and go. I'll follow a bit after," Mosukuwa said, pushing him towards the door. "Breakfast ends in a few minutes, so you better hurry if we don't want to get caught up by anyone."

Looking out into the hall, Harry made sure that it was empty before stepping out of the room and heading back upstairs.

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Wails exploded in the air and sounded off the tiled bathroom as Moaning Myrtle zoomed back into her stall, the frame rocking roughly, leaving the two Hogwarts students standing awkwardly after her.

"She's not going to draw anyone's attention, is it?" Suka asked as Potter rolled his eyes and walk over to the large sinks. He seemed very unconcern about what had just occurred.

"Everyone is used to her crying," Potter said, stopping in front of a sink and waving the 7th year over. "This is the entrance."

He pointed out a tiny snake engraving on the side of the faucet.

"I doubt this place was originally a bathroom when the chamber was initially built," Suka commented.

Potter simply responded with a shrug, and then a hissing noise erupted from his lips. It was low, and even with her hearing, Suka could barely catch on. It was much like a regular snake, but a kind of hypnotic calming aura to it. It was quickly over, though, as the sinks rumbled apart, revealing a large dark hole leading underground.

Potter took a step back, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, I usually try and warn people before I speak in that."

Suka blinked at him. Why was he apologizing? "No warning needed," she assured him. "It was kind of relaxing, really. Calming."

"R-Relaxing? Calming?" Potter echoed, his fingers twitching, and his eyes wide as he glanced around the room with his eyebrows furrowed. He looked anywhere but at her. "Most people find it creepy or scary..."

Suka didn't respond. Instead, she was peering down the dark hole before them.

"It's kind of like a slide," Potter said.

"Are there any stairs, maybe?"

"I'm not sure. This is only my second time going down there, and the first time we hadn't really thought about it. We were in a rush and...sort of had a hostage."

Suka snorted, which turned into full out laughter, clutching onto the side of one of the other sinks. She could hear Potter himself giving away some of his own chuckles.

"O-Okay," Suka gasped, choking back the remains of her giggles. "Let's ask for some stairs, then you definitely have to fill me in on your hostage story."