This has gone on long enough (April/May 1993)
April 12th 1993
“Ah look at them…. Adorably panicking as they pick electives.” Seraphina sighed softly as she watched the second year Hufflepuffs trying to pick from the short list of electives Hogwarts offers.
“Yes, very cute.” Yolanda replied absentmindedly, and Seraphina turned towards her with a tilt to her head.
“What’s up with you?”
“You think Marcus will ever hang out with me beyond our group of friends. You know, like just the two of us. Like you and Hadrian.”
“What about me?” A male voice said behind them, and the two friends turned to see Hadrian standing there with his friend Jeffery Viola standing behind him. His hair was dyed a dark brown, and he was wearing a grey V-neck sweater with dark wash jeans and his signature ankle boots. His outfit matched Seraphina’s, who was wearing a grey sweater as well but with black slacks underneath instead. She was still amazed by the fact the two thought on the same wavelength most days.
“She’s saying we hang out on our own a lot.”
“Well, of course. We are mates after all.”
“And that’s nice, but I wish someone would do that with me too.”
“Ah…. Unfortunately, that someone is quite awkward and clueless when it comes to most social interactions. Always has been. Maybe he just needs a bit of a nudge.” Jeffrey was the one who answered, laughing softly.
“Yeah…. Hey, how long have you two known him anyway?”
“Um, around five years I suppose.” Jeffrey replied softly.
“Oh since we were kids. Our families always ran in the same circles, and my grandfather had the Longbottoms around a lot when I was a child. Against Augusta’s better judgement, of course.” A laugh sounded behind the two standing, and everyone turned to see Sebastian and Valerian approaching.
“Oh yeah, she hated her grandsons interacting with us bad influences.” Sebastian said, cackling at the memory.
“Who’s Augusta?” Seraphina asked curiously. She seemed like a formidable woman from the tone the boys were using.
“My grandmother; the Dowager Lady Longbottom.” Marcus said as he approached with Wilhelmina, smiling at his friends as they were gathered.
“Oh. So she’s Neville’s grandmother as well?”
“Yeah.” Hadrian responded. “And she’s a right mean lady.”
“Oh yeah she is. Always scowling, never joking around. But she is quite intimidating; everyone in the Wizengamot both respects her greatly and is deathly afraid of her.” Valerian recalled, grinning at Marcus teasingly.
“Oh I was terrified of her. Used to think she’d come in my sleep and eat me like those stories Mama used to tell.” Sebastian said, giggling in slight embarrassment.
“Come on, she’s not that bad.” At the deadpan looks Sebastian, Hadrian and Valerian gave him, Marcus smiled sheepishly. “Okay, maybe she is a little bad. But…. You guys didn’t help. Always trying to convince me to help with your pranks and adventures.”
“As if you didn’t enjoy it.” Hadrian challenged and Marcus rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.
“I did yeah….”
“I didn’t know you four had grown up together.” Yolanda said softly, surprised by the interesting combination.
“Yeah. An unlikely combo, isn’t it?” Sebastian said with a soft laugh. Marcus and Hadrian soon bid farewell to the group as they went to help their respective second years with their electives while the rest started talking about clothes in the UK, including Jeffrey’s controversial, but true, opinions.
“Hello young ones. I see you are struggling with a certain choice.” Marcus said, grinning at the confused Gryffindors. He was still surprised by the difference in treatment. For the Ravenclaws, Professor Flitwick had sat down with each one of them to help with the choice, but Professor McGonagall had never done so, likely because of her very busy schedule. That left the older years to help the struggling lions.
“Let me see.” Hadrian said softly as he sat down beside Harry, taking the paper and seeing what Harry had settled on so far.
“I wouldn’t do Divination. The professor is very weird and it isn’t useful for anyone who doesn’t have the sight.”
“But they said it was easy.” Harry muttered a bit petulantly.
“Who did? Also, are you taking subjects because they’re easy or because you’re interested in them and they would actually benefit you.”
“To benefit me….” Harry said despondently. “I’m sorry Hades, I just don’t want to fail.”
“And you won’t, not as long as you enjoy what you study. Wait a bit, learn more about each subject and then make a decision.” Hadrian advised, turning to all of them, especially the muggle-raised students.
“Ask us, or anyone else who’d taken it. We might be able to help.” Justinian said from the other side of the table, patting Dean Thomas, who was to his right, on the back in comfort.
“Okay….” This seemed to open the floodgates of questions, and the three third-years barely managed to escape in time for their classes.
May 8th 1993
They woke the next day to brilliant sunshine and a light, refreshing breeze.
“Perfect Quidditch conditions!” Oliver Wood said enthusiastically at the Gryffindor table, loading the team’s plates with scrambled eggs. “Harry, buck up there, you need a decent breakfast.”
Harry had been staring down the packed Gryffindor table, wondering if the new owner of Riddle’s diary was right in front of his eyes. His trunk had been ransacked the day before and he didn’t know what to do or how to process this. The worst part was, only Tom Riddle’s diary was stolen, and he had a feeling this would directly lead to the person responsible for the petrifications.
Hermione had been urging him to report the robbery, but Harry didn’t like the idea. He’d have to tell a teacher all about the diary, and how many people knew why Hagrid had been expelled fifty years ago? He didn’t even want to tell Hadrian. He didn’t want to be the one who brought it all up again.
As he left the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione to go and collect his Quidditch things, another very serious worry was added to Harry’s growing list. He had just set foot on the marble staircase when he heard it yet again —
“Kill this time… let me rip… tear….”
He shouted aloud and Ron and Hermione both jumped away from him in alarm. “The voice!” Harry exclaimed, looking over his shoulder. “I just heard it again — didn’t you?”
Ron shook his head, wide-eyed. Hermione, however, clapped a hand to her forehead in realisation.
“Harry — I think I’ve just understood something! I’ve got to go to the library!”
And she sprinted away, up the stairs.
“What does she understand?” Harry asked distractedly, still looking around, trying to see where the voice had come from.
“Loads more than I do,” Ron replied, shaking his head.
“But why’s she got to go to the library?”
“Because that’s what Hermione does. When in doubt, go to the library.”
Harry stood, indecisive, trying to catch the voice again, but people were now emerging from the Great Hall behind him, talking loudly, exiting through the front doors on their way to the Quidditch pitch.
“You’d better get moving,” said Ron. “It’s nearly eleven — the match —”
Harry raced up to Gryffindor Tower, collected his Nimbus Two Thousand, and joined the large crowd swarming across the grounds, but his mind was still in the castle along with the bodiless voice, and as he pulled on his scarlet robes in the locker room, his only comfort was that everyone was now outside to watch the game. Little did he know, tragedy was about to strike.
The teams walked onto the field to tumultuous applause. Oliver Wood took off for a warm-up flight around the goal posts; then Madam Hooch released the balls. The Hufflepuffs, who played in canary yellow, were standing in a huddle with Cedric Diggory in the middle, leading them through a last-minute discussion of tactics.
Harry was just mounting his broom when Professor McGonagall came half marching, half running across the pitch, carrying an enormous purple megaphone.
Harry’s heart dropped like a stone. He knew this wouldn’t last long.
“This match has been cancelled,” Professor McGonagall called through the megaphone, addressing the packed stadium. There were boos and shouts. Oliver Wood, looking devastated, landed and ran toward Professor McGonagall without getting off his broomstick.
“But Professor!” he shouted. “We’ve got to play — the Cup — Gryffindor —”
Professor McGonagall ignored him and continued to shout through her megaphone;
“All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!”
Then she lowered the megaphone and beckoned Harry over to her.
“Potter, I think you’d better come with me….”
Wondering how she could possibly suspect him this time, Harry saw Ron detach himself from the complaining crowd; he came running up to them as they set off toward the castle. To Harry’s surprise, Professor McGonagall didn’t object.
“Yes, perhaps you’d better come, too, Weasley….”
Some of the students swarming around them were grumbling about the match being cancelled; others looked worried. Harry and Ron followed Professor McGonagall back into the school and up the marble staircase. But they weren’t taken to anybody’s office this time.
“This will be a bit of a shock,” Professor McGonagall explained in a surprisingly gentle voice as they approached the infirmary. “There has been another attack… a triple attack this time.”
Harry’s insides did a horrible somersault. Professor McGonagall pushed the door open and he and Ron entered.
Madam Pomfrey was bending over a sixth-year girl with long, curly hair. Harry recognized her as the Ravenclaw they’d accidentally asked for directions to the Slytherin common room when they were disguised. On her left was a very familiar figure, Wilhelmina Prince was laying down with her eyes wide open and her arm outstretched like she was pushing someone away. And on the bed next to her was —
“Hermione!” Ron groaned.
Hermione lay utterly still, her eyes open and glassy.
“They were found near the library,” Professor McGonagall said. “I don’t suppose either of you can explain this? It was on the floor next to them….”
She was holding up a small, circular mirror. Harry and Ron shook their heads, both staring at Hermione.
“I will escort you back to Gryffindor Tower,” Professor McGonagall said heavily. “I need to address the students in any case.”
At that moment, four figures came running, throwing the door open behind them. One was Professor Snape, whom Harry had never seen looking so panicked before (or expressing any emotion really) and the other three were very familiar boys.
“Wilhelmina!” Three called in unison, not noticing Harry and Ron standing there. Hadrian Black, Valerian Malfoy and Sebastian Nott surrounded the girl’s bed, staring at her in horror.
“Hades?” Harry whispered, and Hadrian’s head snapped towards him.
“Hermione too?”
“What?!” Valerian shouted, turning to see Hermione in her bed as well. “Dear Merlin…. What has the heir done?”
“This has gone on long enough.” Snape whispered, staring at Wilhelmina quietly. Harry wondered why he was so emotional. He couldn’t really understand what made this petrification different from others.
“Yes. It really has.” Hadrian replied softly, eyes darkening.
A few minutes earlier.
“Hermione?” A voice said behind her, and Hermione turned around to find Wilhelmina Prince standing behind her.
“Hi! What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at the game?”
“I had some research to do for my uncles. What are you doing here?”
“I think I know what Slytherin’s monster is.”
“A basilisk.” Wilhelmina said bluntly, and Hermione stared at her in shock. “Yeah, my friends and I figured it out a while ago. We just don’t know how it’s moving about, and of course the biggest mystery is who the heir is.”
“I know how it’s moving. The pipes!” Hermione exclaimed, showing Wilhelmina what she’d found. She wrote it down in the margins of the book on Basilisks, and when she was going to stand up, another voice interrupted them.
“Wilhelmina?” Another female voice said, and the two girls turned to find a sixth year Ravenclaw standing there.
“Hey Penelope.”
“Come on you two. It’s time for the game.” The two girls shared a look before getting up and walking out of the library with Penelope. Before standing up, though, Hermione ripped the page out of the book to show her friends, wincing a bit at the action.
“Wilhelmina.” Hermione whispered. “Do you have a mirror with you or something?”
“Uh yeah.” She got it out of her pocket.
“Hold it up.” Hermione said, and Wilhelmina did as told. “Penelope. Can you come stand with us?”
“Why…?” Penelope asked confused.
“Because I think the monster is following us.” The two gasped, and they huddled together with the mirror in front of their heads.
“Bloody hell. We’re screwed.” Wilhelmina cursed, but they started running anyway. Wilhelmina grabbed Hermione to stand in front of her, protecting her as much as she can, but before anything could happen, they froze in their tracks as they made eye-contact with yellow slit irises.
And with that, everything went black.