Chapter 19
Cassidy waved at Neville as the group walked through the school courtyard. The early morning air was crisp, and the hustle and bustle of students filling the yard contrasted with the quiet tension surrounding their group. As Neville waved back sheepishly, blushing, Dean and Seamus jostled him, and they exited the courtyard, heading toward god knows where. Cassidy shook her head and turned back to the conversation at hand, not noticing Ron's scowl at Neville as he watched them go.
"...Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago," Harry explained to Ron and Hermione. He'd already told Cassidy what had happened that very night, and she needed no reminder. But she still found it extremely hard to believe.
"There's no way. Hagrid? Maybe I'd have believed you on the first night here, when we were first-years. I was scared to death of him back then. But it's not possible, he wouldn't hurt a fly. Not on purpose, anyway." Cassidy tightened her scarf around her, a faint gust of wind tugging at her hair as she glanced up at the gray sky. A storm might be on the way.
Hermione nodded in agreement, turning to Harry. "It can't be Hagrid. It just...can't be."
"We don't even know this Tom Riddle," Ron added, looking at all three of them. "He sounds like a dirty rotten snitch to me."
Everyone stopped, turning to face Ron.
"The monster had killed somebody, Ron. What would any of us have done?" Harry said, indignant.
"Harry, we're not even sure if it was that monster that killed that girl." Cassidy looked at the two boys, trying to calm the rising tension. "And Ron, even if Hagrid didn't do it, maybe this Tom fellow had good intentions. Somebody did die."
"Look. Hagrid's our friend. Why don't we just go and ask him about it?" Hermione suggested. Ron looked at her like she'd grown two heads.
"Sure, that'll be a cheerful visit." He said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Hello, Hagrid. Tell us. Have you been setting anything mad and hairy loose in the castle?" Cassidy elbowed him, ('What'd you do that for?!') before turning to Hermione.
"You sure, 'Mione? It might still be a sensitive subject. Hagrid..." Cassidy trailed off, uncertain. "He's quite sensitive, you remember how he was about Norbert—"
"Ah, I still miss that dragon, I do." Cassidy startled, turning to the source of the gruff voice. Hagrid towered over all four of them, smiling through his large beard. "And mad and hairy? You wouldn't be talking about me now, would you?" he asked cheerily, his booming laugh echoing in the open space.
"No!" They said in unison, looking very guilty indeed.
There was a moment of silence, and he looked at the four children's faces suspiciously. Hermione and Cassidy avoided his gaze, while Harry scrambled to change the subject.
"W-what's that you got there, Hagrid?" he asked quickly, pointing to a large spraying bottle Hagrid was holding.
"Oh, that's a Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent," he answered. "For the Mandrakes. Now, according to Professor Sprout, they've still got a bit of growing-up to do. But, once their acne's cleared up, they'll be able to chop 'em up and stew them," Hermione flinched at the chopping part. "And then we'll get those people up at the hospital un-Petrified," Hagrid completed, grinning.
The group nodded silently, grateful that something was being done.
"In the meantime, though," Hagrid lowered his voice, "you four best be looking after yourselves. Alright?" The four nodded more quickly this time, before Hagrid turned and walked off, his boots thumping softly against the cobblestones.
"That was close," Cassidy started, before squinting and seeing Neville Longbottom running toward the group, panicking and frantic. His face was flushed, his eyes wide with fear.
"Nev, what's the matter?" She said, alarmed as he put his hands on his knees, panting.
"No time," he huffed. "Harry, I don't know who did it, but you better come, come on!"
Without hesitation, the group set off after him.
What could possibly be next?
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Them all followed Neville up to the boys' dormitories, the weight of silence hanging between them as they hurried up the stairs. When they reached Harry's part of the room, Cassidy gasped, her eyes widening at the scene before her.
Everything had been completely wrecked. His trunk was scratched and dented, the bedposts splintered, pillows ripped open, and his bookshelf was in shambles, books strewn across the floor like they had been thrown in a frenzy. Cassidy kneeled down, her hand brushing the scattered pages, feeling the soft, familiar warmth of her pendant beneath her robes, its presence comforting but eerie at the same time.
"Something foul's at play," she muttered, while the others looked around the room. "I can feel it."
"How?" Neville asked timidly.
"Don't worry about it, Nev." she said quickly, flashing Neville a small smile. He didn't ask any more questions, blushing furiously. Ron scoffed.
"It had to be a Gryffindor," Hermione said as Harry started digging through his scattered things. "Nobody else knows the password. Unless it wasn't a student." Cassidy stood up, joining Ron and Hermione.
"Whoever it was, it must've been looking for something." Ron added, looking on anxiously.
"I told you that book was no good, Harry-" Cassidy started.
"They found it." Harry said suddenly, looking up at the group. "Tom Riddle's diary is gone."
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"Why's Neville always looking at you like that?" Ron asked Cassidy, as they sat in the bleachers next to the Quidditch pitch. Harry was going to play a game today, and Hermione had told them she'd catch up, that she had something to read on. She still wasn't around, and Cassidy was getting worried.
"What do you mean, 'like that?'" Cassidy asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Like you're the last Chocolate Frog in the box," he muttered, his tone oddly sharp.
Cassidy frowned, caught off guard by his tone. "I dunno, maybe because we're friends, and he's happy to see me?" She tilted her head. "Why do you care, anyway?"
"It's just... weird." Ron huffed, staring out at the pitch as a few players lazily zoomed by on their brooms. He had no idea why he cared—at least, not enough to say it out loud. "I'm your friend, and I don't look at you like that."
"Yeah, you look at me like I'm a Blast-Ended Skrewt." Cassidy grinned, nudging him playfully. "I don't get why you've got such a problem with how Nev looks at me. It's not like he's my boyfriend or anything—I'm not interested in stuff like that. And even if he was, why would you care?"
Ron didn't answer, but his ears turned an alarming shade of red.
Why would he care?
Before either of them could say anything else, Professor McGonagall strode toward them, her robes billowing and her expression set in stone. Harry followed close behind, looking uneasy.
"I need all of you to follow me to the hospital wing," she said curtly. "Now. Quidditch has been canceled."
"What?!" Cassidy cried, leaping to her feet. "But—"
"Silence, Sweet," McGonagall chided, motioning for them to move. She obliged, getting up silently with Ron and following McGonagall with Harry.
They quickly strode through the halls, all quiet. Harry's Quidditch robes swished softly on the floor, and Cassidy found herself wondering where Hermione was yet again. Her mind raced, her heart feeling a little heavy—she hadn't seen her friend since this morning. A thrum of warmth from her necklace sent a shiver down her spine, reminding her that something wasn't right. Whatever was ahead wasn't good. Ron kept giving her sidelong glances, but didn't say anything. She could feel the tension in the air. Something told her they weren't going to like what they found.
Finally, they arrived in the hospital wing. Cassidy's stomach churned. She lagged behind, unwilling to close the distance, as if stalling would somehow stop what was about to happen. But her feet moved of their own accord, her pulse quickening.
"I warn you, this could be a bit of a shock," McGonagall said, her voice quieter than usual. Worry creased her brow, and for a moment, Cassidy wondered if she might be a little more rattled than she let on.
The boys moved forward first, their faces falling as they looked at a figure frozen on a bed, silent and unmoving.
It couldn't be.
A wave of dread washed over Cassidy, pushing her forward despite every instinct telling her to turn back. She rushed toward the bed, and her breath caught in her throat. She couldn't stop herself. She had to see. Had to know.
Her worst fear was confirmed.
"Hermione!" Cassidy gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Hermione lay still, her face frozen in an expression of shock and horror. Her eyes were wide open, yet she didn't blink. Not a single movement. Cassidy's hand trembled as it hovered near her friend's face, but she didn't touch her—not yet. Tears welled up in her eyes, and before she could stop them, they spilled onto Hermione's petrified skin.
The necklace flared against her skin, a warm pulse of warning, but she barely registered it.
Harry's hand landed gently on Cassidy's shoulder. She didn't look up at him, didn't acknowledge the comfort. She couldn't. All she could see was Hermione—frozen. Lifeless.
"She was found near the library," McGonagall said, her voice soft but sharp with concern. She held up something small, a circular mirror, and Harry and Ron exchanged glances before looking down at it. Cassidy took a step back, her legs weak.
"Does it mean anything to any of you?" McGonagall asked, her voice thick with urgency.
Cassidy shook her head numbly, her gaze dropping to the floor. She couldn't bring herself to look at Hermione again. Not yet. Not until she figured out what to do. How to fix this.
Ron moved closer, silently offering her comfort, but Cassidy was already retreating into herself, her mind racing. Harry squeezed Hermione's frozen hand, his face a picture of sorrow, but Cassidy's heart pounded too loudly in her ears to hear anything else.