"Today, we'll be beginning our unit with hex-deflection. . ."

I stand by the chalkboard while Mad-Eye talks through today's lesson. The fourth-year Gryffindors and Slytherins stare at him intently, wanting to give him not a single reason to spell them.

His words begin to tune out, and I watch as his mouth continues to move yet emits no sound.

Peer into his thoughts, Dora's voice rings clear as day.

Throughout my apprenticeship, Mad-Eye had been insistent that I study and further my born talent for legilimency. Due to his inability with either practices, I was unable to thoroughly activate the alternate — occlumency. He suggested that I look into his mind when he least expected it, giving me the advantage and leaving him in the unknown.

And so, I carefully pierce through his aura and navigate towards his mind.

Each layer represents a part of his mind: the conscious, the preconscious, and the unconscious.

Everyone has the innate ability to protect their thoughts. The further into the thoughts, the more restrictive the natural barriers become. But it takes nothing but a simple strike of a fictitious hammer to crumble all four walls.

Over the years, Mad-Eye has grown more protective of his thoughts, always alert and prepared for any invasion. In the vicinity of Hogwarts, however, he has laxed.

My gaze flickers towards the auror, and I delve further through his consciousness. Before I can even touch his preconsciousness, a block forms and pushes me out from his mind altogether. The metaphorical force alone knocks my physical body a few steps back, drawing attention from the students and quieting Mad-Eye.

"Ms. Tonks, are you alright?" His enchanted eye rolls to the center of its socket.

I glance at him and force a simple nod. "Yes. Just lost my balance is all."

"Very well, then. Where were we?"

––––––––––

The Gryffindor trio — rarely seen without one another — hurries through the corridors in the direction of the D.A.D.A. classroom. Having left for his chambers, Mad-Eye had trusted me to lock up before dinner.

"Delphina."

The former of them calls out, hand lifted out of the dispersing crowd.

"Did you need to speak with Professor Moody?"

"No, we need to talk to you."

I follow as the last few students, a couple of first-years, pass by quickly before unlocking the door once more and letting them inside.

"Have you heard about Mr. Crouch?"

The news of Barty Crouch's disappearance has spread through the castle like a wildfire, igniting much conversation and theories as to what could have happened.

"Dumbledore and Mad-Eye briefed that very night."

"Were you able to find him?" Ron asks with a tinge of hope.

The palms of my hands press into the mahogany wood of a desk. "No. And I know Mad-Eye even checked using a certain map."

Harry blushes scarlet at the mention of a confiscated item the Weasley twins had gifted him early in his third year.

"Wherever he is, it's nowhere near the Hogwarts grounds."

"Could he have disapparated?" Ron suggests.

"You can't disapparate anywhere near Hogwarts, Ron!" Hermione tuts him with a click of her tongue. "There are plenty of other ways he could have disappeared, aren't there, Della?"

Arms crossed over my chest, I walk towards the chalkboard. "Quite a few. But one question continues to haunt my mind: did he leave of his own accord, or was he taken?"

"Do you think someone kidnapped him?" The young redhead gulps. "I mean, someone could-could've pulled him onto a broom and flown off with him, couldn't they?"

"Whatever the case, I don't want any of you gallivanting outside of the castle and playing detective, alright?"

"But —"

"And if you even think to tell a lie about your whereabouts, I will peer into your minds and very thoughts."

Hermione is the first to speak after the concern-drawn threat. "We promise, Della."

"Good. Now, go on, it's nearly dinner time."

While Ron and Hermione head to the Great Hall, I pull Harry back. Just before the Crouch incident, Dumbledore and the other headmasters were given the opportunity to hint the entailments of the third tasks to the champions and professors.

"What are your feelings regarding the third task?"

"The maze? I-I haven't given it a single thought."

"Though there aren't any potions or plants that will guarantee you success, Charlie and I are still at your beck and call, Harry."

My hand clasps over his shoulder before dropping my voice to a mere whisper.

"Do not trust anyone, Harry."

"Della —"

"I don't mean your friends, but even your professors may be hiding a secret or two."

He stays silent for a few seconds and nods his head. "Okay. I trust you."

"Hermione and Ron are likely to be waiting just outside the doors."

"See you later, Della."

––––––––––

Knock, knock.

Hardly a moment later, the door nudges open with Charlie peering into the room. He carries a silver platter of various foods seen in the Great Hall.

"Del?"

"Charlie, there's something wrong."

Without another word, Charlie carefully sets the tray onto the coffee table and joins me by the fireplace. I stare into the embers, though my mind races elsewhere.

"What is it?"

"Mad-Eye, his mind has always been an open book to me. But today, in class, when I tried to enter his mind, he was able to force me out."

"Has that ever happened?"

"He doesn't know a touch of occlumency, so he couldn't possibly. . .unless —"

"Unless what?"

"Unless he isn't Mad-Eye."

His thick brows furrow. "Del, do you know what you're saying —"

"I have to write to Nymphadora, tell her to come here."

"But Del —"

"And if anyone asks about her visit, we could use the third task as a guise."

"Delphina!"

The unsuspecting crack of his voice rids my throat of every word, and I look at him. His chest rattles at the whip-like tone of his voice.

"You are accusing your mentor of being someone else. Are you sure about this?"

"Please trust me. Please."

My voice pleads, either hands cupping one of his. His baby blue eyes bore into my own as if searching for something, anything.

"Okay. I trust you."