The Shrieking Shack was the type of place that would give any halfway logical muggle the Do Not Enter feel.  If it were being described in a kid's book, it would be that place in the neighborhood where kids didn't climb the fence.  No matter how much they wanted their ball back.  Either the floors were guaranteed to give way, burying the trespasser under piles of old rotten boards.  Or, some creepy old lady lived in it who never did more than peak behind old flowery curtains until they got close enough for her to wrap her wrinkly, liniment-covered fingers around their throats and dragged them inside.  Never to be seen again.

Sasha's fairly muggle-like logic was clashing with the curiosity and mysticism the fabled shack had garnered after years of rumors and comments in the corridors of Hogwarts.  "Have you been here before?  Are you sure this isn't, you know, trespassing?"  Sasha paused at the door, glancing back towards Abby before stepping inside.

"Someone needs to dust in here." 

A thick layer of dust covered everything and his shoes left a trail of footsteps behind him as he followed the hall down towards one of the larger rooms a the end of the hall.  The room looked to be a modest parlor with a rather sorry looking piano in the center.  A stack of fresh looking wood was piled next to an old fireplace - evidence that others had sought both solitude and warmth in the building before. 

A few moments and sneaked incendio and scourgify charms later and warmth was already starting to fill the room and Sasha felt he could sit without needing to dust himself off every few minutes.  It was, of course, far from clean but at least it wasn't like sitting in a dust bowl.  As an added precaution, he shrugged off his coat and laid it down before finally sitting. 

If he were being perfectly honest, Sasha would have to admit he had no idea where to begin.  With any of it.  He'd barely been managing to make sense of everything, let along enough so to actually be able to present it in an intelligible and reasonable manner.  And, part of him feared that it would all change things, too.  Change or influence Abby's decision.  He wouldn't blame her, of course.  But, he'd seen enough romantic comedies to know finding that stuff out after the fact was usually worse. 

"So, what all did you end up getting?"  Sasha asked, nodding towards the Honeyduke's bag.

"Nope," Abby answered his question. She'd never been inside the shack before, just heard the stories. It was appropriately creepy! But that didn't bother her as long as someone was with her. Sasha was a good, responsible someone.

Here, at least they could talk in private where it was a little warmer. Abby watched him set the charms, amused by the number of Scourgifys, and plopped down next to him on the jacket, keeping her own cloak on until the warmth of the fire set in.

Abby glanced at him, pretty certain he hadn't been looking for a secluded place to 'make a move', so to speak. She was equally certain he cared little about the candy in her bag.

"Chocolate. Gummies. Lots of yummy stuff."

Rummaging through the bag, she found some licorice and chewed on a piece. Abby held out the open bag toward Sasha. It wasn't likely, but just in case he wanted one!

"So," Abby stretched her toes closer to the fireplace, making the snow on her boots melt. This part was easy. Being a friend.

"You said you wanted to tell me stuff later? When we were in Madam Puddifoot's," she reminded him. "See, I remember everything," she smiled.

Peeking through the bag of sweets gave Sasha an opportunity to stall.  Or, collect his thoughts.  Perhaps, both.  Abby's assumption was right, though, he wasn't all that interested in the sweets but, they were a useful distraction.  And, he had added a few of his own contributions to the pile on the Honeyduke's counter. 

Sasha tugged out the bag of crystallized pineapple and carefully untied the knotted ribbon. 

"I ... ja.  I know you do."  Sasha grinned at Abby then turned back to the pineapple.  The bought time had done little to help him figure out where to start.  So much had been happening, all of it seemed confusingly intertwined like an intricate web.  And, just like a web, there was no clear starting point. 

"You know Johann Storm, right?"  Johann seemed a reasonable, comfortable and safe place to start.  "I, you know, intern with him in the IMC?  And, do you know a Professor Storm?"  Sasha had to narrow his eyes briefly as he tried to remember the man's first name.  "I don't know if your sister has mentioned him."  Sasha peeled a small chunk of pineapple free, brushed as much of the excess sugar off as possible. 

"And, I ... you can't tell anyone.  I'm probably not even supposed to be telling you but, I need to tell someone." 

"Mmhmm," Abby nodded, recognizing Johann's name . She'd seen him around the department though she hadn't really interacted with him. He seemed quirky and nice.

She hadn't heard much about Professor Storm, but Aileen had never complained about him, which said something positive in itself.

"Yeah, she's cool with him!"

But what did they have to do with Sasha? Abby leapt to the first nutty conclusion that jumped into her head.

"Does Johann want you to do some kind of top secret International spy thing at Hogwarts?" She raised her eyebrows, chewing on her licorice with greater intensity. "And Professor Storm is the spy ringleader? Secretly supporting Durmstrang in the tournament!"

Abby grinned, then tried to look serious. "I'm kidding. I think. Sorry, go on."

International spy thing for Durmstrang?  Abby's initial theory took Sasha by surprise and the Ravenclaw looked up at her.  She was watching him intently though, given Abby, it could be for any number of reasons.  She could be joking or she could be serious and just waiting eagerly for a confirmation. 

"I ... um ... No!  I was a Champion," Sasha reminded Abby.  "I wouldn't help Durmstrang  That's not..."  Sasha blushed slightly and grinned, shaking his head.  She wasn't being serious.  "But, it did involve some sleuthing and uncovering secrets and Johann did help.  And, I suppose it's ... International.  But, nothing to do with Durmstrang." 

Sasha shook his head, again, and turned his attention back to the pineapple ring.  "Besides, Durmstrang wouldn't want my help.  I'm muggleborn.  Or, at least, they think I'm muggleborn.  Kind of ironic, considering he worked there." 

The Ravenclaw's shoulders hitched up in a slight shrug.  "I ... well.  This German wizard tried to claim relation to the family to get at my inheritance and so Johann and I were running routine relations test to disprove his claim.  It did, obviously.  With the fellow.  But, it turned out we were cousins.  Johann and I.  Through Professor Storm.  We ran another test back in October and, well, he's ... it showed I'm his son." 

It felt weird to say it.  Outloud.  He hadn't actually told anyone before without there being a dish of potion to break the news.  "I don't know.  But, he made it clear he doesn't want anyone to know.  Which, I'm used to by now." 

Oh. Ohhhh. That's what Jacoba was talking about with the blood line test! And that must mean his mother - wow. Ok, wow.

"Wow," Abby said out loud, eyes widening.

"That must be really weird. And extra weird because he doesn't want anyone to know," Abby gave him a look that was both sympathetic and curious.

"So that means you're," she paused. "Not muggleborn. Right?" She had difficulty wrapping her head around that. What a mind bender! How he must feel!

"I'm sorry," Abby told him, though she wasn't really sure what she was apologizing for. Maybe the strangeness of it - finding out your father was not who you thought he was, and not even muggle. Finding out your father was one of your professors. And finding out your father wanted to keep the relation a secret. She supposed it might have been even stranger for Sasha if Professor Storm had given him a big hug and was thrilled about it, but there was something a little sad about the whole thing. At least, it seemed, Sasha had had time to process it and adjust.

"I can't imagine sitting in class and being like, faced with that all the time. Though if he ever deducts too many points or tries to put you in detention, you have ammo," she joked weakly. "Not that you'd ever have to worry about that with your grades."

'Wow' was about right. 

At first, Sasha nodded his head but then just as quickly shook it - an accurate depiction of the confusion of it all.  Yes, it felt weird but, at the same time, it wasn't really surprising.  For better or worse, it was a routine he knew well. 

"No.  I'm not.  I'm, I guess, Halfblood.  And...half muggle and half ... pureblood."  Given his background and all the heavy muggle influences, pureblood was just one of those words he never would have dreamed being associated with him.  And, from what he could gather, a rather old pureblood family.  "Old pureblood family," Sasha lifted one hand and then lifted the other.  "Old nobility muggle.  Not that it'll make any difference.  It's not like I can claim anything but muggleborn.  The muggle world still thinks I'm Schlagenweit - even though I've known Gerhard wasn't my father since I was eight.  I was forbidden from telling anyone that, too.  I was the heir.  Reputations come first." 

Sasha dropped his hands.  From everything he'd seen and the conversations he'd had with both Abby and Professor Reid, Sasha suspected Abby would understand that point of view. 

Sasha shrugged.  The first few classes after that had been a bit strange but, again, he'd had a fair bit of experience convincing himself he didn't care about such matters.  "I had to hide being a bastard son before; it's honestly not that different.  Just someone new."  Sasha peeled two more chunks of pineapple free from the bag but thought better of it and dropped one back in.  As with the first, he turned his attention to brushing the sugar off. 

Sasha glanced at Abby and grinned, appreciatively, at her joke.  "Ja.  I suppose.  Not that I'd use it.  He'd ... I don't know.  He'd do something.  Better to not find out.  Really, I think my grades are all I have going for me right now.  I think I'm lucky not to have been expelled."

Abby nodded. She did indeed understand how complicated old, rich families could be - muggle or pureblood. There were days where Abby had wished her parents had shipped her off to live with some muggle family, but at least they had never pretended she wasn't anything but what she was. A squib. Still part of the family, however grudgingly.

"I guess so," she agreed. It must get tiring, hiding in both worlds.

She watched him carefully brush off the sugar from the candy with a hint of amusement. That defeated the purpose!

"Why?" Abby chewed on the licorice with a worried look, sure she'd missed something. "Storm wouldn't try to expel you for being his son, right? If you've already agreed not to tell?"

The hiding was unrelenting.  Hiding from his parents.  Hiding his parents and home life from school.  Hiding Kronos from everybody.  Even since he was a kid and first started noticing the 'oddities' that he later came to understand were magical misfires.  He used to get blamed for every odd and inexplicable thing around the house and had quickly learned emotional control was the key to preventing the misfires.  He'd always been an introvert but he'd taught himself the careful, emotional control. 

Part of him - habit, as much as anything - still questioned whether telling Abby everything was wise.  He didn't have control over a lot but he had control over his studies and what people knew.  But, assuming it didn't repulse her or scare her away, having someone who was an equal he didn't have to hide anything from seemed far too tempting, and potentially relieving, to pass up. 

"No.  He couldn't do that," Sasha said, shaking his head.  "He'd have to have a reason.  And, even if I didn't tell, he'd have to tell if that's why he was ... no.  I did something kind of stupid." 

Sasha sighed and frowned at the chunk of pineapple in his hand.  "I tried to contact ... you know, communicate, with Ava?"  Sasha looked anxiously towards Abby.  "I got this crazy idea in my head that if I could talk to her and apologize and ... she'd forgive me and everything would be better."  Sasha shook his head, again, and looked back down at the pineapple. 

"Professor Trishna caught us before we finished and ... Professor Storm got involved since he's Deputy Headmaster and ... it was just bad.  And, I didn't get to talk to her." 

Abby listened, seeing that it was difficult for him to tell her, but having no concept just how unusual it was for him to be telling her so much at the moment. She had no reason to lie to Sasha; Sasha had no reason to lie to her. Even when they were apart during the school year, she found it easy to slip back into their usual groove like no time had passed at all.

But what he said wasn't always so alarming.

Abby's eyebrows shot up and her eyes widened. Oh no, Ava. Sympathy welled up alongside the alarm. A part of her mind distantly protested that he had nothing to apologize to Ava about, but she couldn't focus on that. She heard communicate, and her mind raced to try to understand what he'd done to attempt to communicate.

"You tried to - but how?"

Abby paused. "Was it like a form of Divination? Or-" She cut herself off. "How far did you get before Professor Tappy stopped you? And you said 'us'?"

Though her questions might be overwhelming, she couldn't seem to hold them back.

Slowly, Sasha shook his head as his stomach clenched, nervously.  His already finicky appetite had officially abandoned him and Sasha dropped the remainder of the pineapple chunk back in the bag. 

"I'm ... I'm crap at Divination.  It just ... I can't do it.  It wouldn't have worked."  He was trying and Eamonn was definitely helping.  Diviners, by and large, were air-y, whisp-y, happy-like people.  Like Abby.  Abby would probably be the type to be very good at Divination.  Eamonn was really the only other analytical type Sasha had come across who was good at the craft.  It was proving immensely helpful to see how he did it. 

But, still, Sasha was far from being a natural. 

"No, I ... tried to ... bring her spirit?  Back?  You know?  To talk to her face to face?  Or, ... the equivalent.  It ... I used a ritual I found in a book in the Restricted Section.  It was ... I don't know.  I wasn't trying to fully revive her or anything.  Just ..." 

Sasha shook his head, grimacing slightly.  "There was this fourth year who caught me with the books.  Her mother died in an accident so she wanted a chance to say good-bye.  I ... we were on the second to last step in calling Ava back when he found us.  I just needed to talk to her.  I ... I still do." 

The Ravenclaw frowned and looked down at his shoes.  "I'm sorry.  I ... I don't know."

Alarm overwhelmed her concern for a few seconds, giving her face the 'freaking out' expression. Growing up in a wizarding family, she'd been raised on tales and fables that it was better to leave the dead alone. Whether muggles got the same sorts of messages, she had no idea. Still. It was a lot to take in. She wasn't sure she knew how to handle it.

But she did know Sasha. She trusted that it had been a mistake. He just had to realize it - Professor Tappy would have driven that point home, right?

"You don't have to apologize," Abby put a hand on his arm.

"I'm just a bit startled? I imagine trying to conjure a spirit and I think of scary dark necromancy stuff. Like Inferi. Or like the mummies at the museum. You weren't trying to do that," she glanced at him for confirmation.

Abby paused for a moment, "But even if you could talk to her, what would she say? Could she say anything?" She thought out loud.

"Maybe she wouldn't even remember that night. Maybe, wherever she is, it sort of fades into nothing, so she doesn't have to think about it." Abby paused again, hoping she wasn't putting her foot in her mouth. "Or maybe what she remembers is that you tried so hard to be a good friend to her."

Abby spread out her hands, and tried smiling her usual smile, "I don't know what I'm talking about either."

Sasha looked down at the hand on his arm, taking several long, deep breaths.  This was generally about the time the urge to hide behind a stack of flashcards reared its ugly head.  Half an hour or so usually did it.  By then, the thoughts had cleared themselves out of his conciousness and he could continue like everything was fine.  But, for better or worse, Sasha had none on him.  He'd already proved that earlier.

"I imagine trying to conjure a spirit and I think of scary dark necromancy stuff."

The Ravenclaw took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  "It was," he confessed.  "I mean.  That's what the books were on.  But, I didn't use the ... not the full rituals.  Not Inferi.  More like ... I don't know.  We do rituals to talk to the dead all the time in the Muggle world.  Every week.  I mean, we drink the blood and eat the flesh to apologize and ... this was nothing like that.  And, they consider this all dark magic.  So ... I ..." 

It had all been immensely confusing and, at the time, Sasha hadn't really cared much about little details like whether it was necromancy or not.  It was all about the end goal.  Talking to Ava.  What she'd say.  What he'd hoped she'd say. 

Sasha's chest clenched and he shook his head, his vision blurring slightly.  Once he got going, it was proving easier than expected to be completely honest with Abby.  "I ... that she doesn't blame me.  That she didn't actually hate me.  That it wasn't her that, well, crucioed me.  I don't know.  I know my parents blamed me.  Being able to know she didn't would at least ... it'd make some of it go away?"  Sasha glanced at Abby and shrugged, a brilliant - though splotchier blush - rising in his cheeks as he looked down, again. 

To be honest, despite Abby's dismissal that she didn't know what she was talking, it hadn't occurred to Sasha that Ava might not remember.  He didn't know.  He hadn't known.  At the end of it, he still hadn't even quite reconciled what he'd been taught to believe about faith and magic and death with all of this on the other side. 

"But, I didn't try hard enough.  I should have done more.  But ... she said to leave her alone and that I was a mistake.  And, I just got so ... distracted with ... Kronos and everything last Christmas.  I ..." 

Sasha shook his head.  "It is what it is.  I just hoped ... I just wanted to apologize and let the guilt go."

Abby gave him a shocked look when Sasha said that it was actually the scary dark necromancy stuff she'd been thinking of, just not the full ritual. Not many things made her stomach uneasy, but that did. She held the piece of the licorice in her hand and set the bag down.

The guilt and anguish he felt was not something she could relate to well. She'd never lost anyone like that. It was simple to her - there was nothing he could have done. He couldn't have known.

Trying to be polite, Abby ignored the tears in his eyes and glanced away.

"You know what they say about apologies, don't you?" She focused on the fire. "People think they need to apologize and be forgiven to move on, but they don't always. It's really about them. Their feelings. Not the person they wronged - or think they wronged. I read about it in Witch Weekly so clearly it's true," one corner of her mouth quirked up.

"Granted, it was about some couple that cheated on each other, but-" Abby paused. Off topic!

"Anyway, if she really blames you or hates you, which I don't think she does, wouldn't it suck to contact her and confirm it? If she doesn't blame you, and you got to talk to her, she'd probably be thinking gosh Sasha, I'm not that mean."

Abby looked at him, her sympathetic expression contrasting with her flippant words.

It was almost too easy and too tempting to discredit the words based solely on their source.  Of course, what could Witch Weekly know about such things?  It wasn't actually journalism.  It was entertainment. 

As easy as an escape as that might be, Sasha was having a hard time actually dismissing it.  It was overly simplified and befitting of a couple's quarrel.  But, in some strange, entirely unacademic way, it made sense.  Whether it helped was a different matter, but it made sense.

"Did they say what you're supposed to do, instead?"  Sasha asked, brushing his cheek with his fingers, only to find the attempt just made the lingering sugar crystals on his fingers stick to any errant moisture.  "Whether it's for us or them..."  Sasha didn't finish the thought.  He knew it made a difference. 

"It just ... it feels wrong to want to move on without it.  And, I don't even know how or where to start.  I just pretend and keep studying and no one knows the difference." 

Sasha tugged his handkerchief from his pocket and tried to brush his fingers clean.  Slowly he shook his head.  "I'd considered that," Sasha admitted.  He had not gone into the ritual assuming forgiveness was a guarantee.  "I don't know.  I just ... mostly, it just gave me a plan.  Something to do.  Something I could actually control." 

"I'm not sure how I avoided getting expelled.  It ..." 

Sasha sighed and shook his head.  "I wish you were there.  At Hogwarts.  Apparently, I need someone to keep me out of trouble."  Sasha laughed, weakly, looking at Abby.