Isolde
Holly had her head down in the back of the classroom and was trying to avoid as many people as possible. In the Slytherin common room that morning, and at the breakfast table, people were either praising Holly or avoiding her, but at this point very few thought she wasn’t the heir. Even Draco kept watching her curiously. And to make it worse, Flint had changed the common room password to “pure blood”. In short, Holly wished she could be literally anywhere else. Like inside a lit fireplace, or tied to a brick at the bottom of the lake.
Of course it had to be then that she heard it - the voice in the walls…
“ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!”
Then there was a series of crashes, and professor McGonagall marched down the aisle of desks and flung open their classroom door. The class got up and followed her out, finding the hall in chaos. People were screaming and running and Holly didn’t see it at first - or, it didn’t make any sense to her. It couldn’t be… but it was…
Professor Mcgonagall waved her wand and a loud bang rang through the hall. “Everyone will return to their classrooms. Now!” she ordered, but Holly barely heard her. She was caught staring at isolde, laying on the floor under the frozen ghost of Sir Nicholas, stone-still, clutching her ouroboros.
The hallway cleared and Holly saw Harry, glued to the opposite wall. “Caught in the act!” shouted a hufflepuff boy, pointing wildly between Harry and Holly.
“That’s what she gets for being a blood traitor!” Pansey snickered shrilly from somewhere inside their classroom.
“Shut up!” Tracey spat back, and Holly felt a hand settle over her shoulder. “C’mon, you’ve been with the class all day, the teachers know that…” she prodded, but Holly didn’t budge. She couldn’t.
Professor McGonagall sent the two frozen figures upstairs and turned to face Harry. “This way, Potter!” she said, gesturing for him to follow.
“Professor?” Holly stepped into the hall. She wasn’t even sure what she intended to ask.
“You best come too, Miss Potter,” the professor told her, with a sympathetic frown. “Come on, both of you, this way,”
“Professor, I swear I didn’t-” Harry began, but their teacher only shook her head.
“This is out of my hands, potter, I’m sorry.” Professor McGonagall led them to the entrance to the headmaster’s office, spoke the password, and led them up. She left them just inside the door and told them to wait. Harry began to poke around, but Holly stuck by the door, watching, wondering if Isolde would be alright.
“Bee in your bonnet, Potters?” The old but lively voice of the sorting hat wondered.
“Er. Yes. Er — sorry to bother you — I wanted to ask —" Harry stammered, beside her.
"You’ve been wondering whether I put you in the right House. Yes... you were particularly difficult to place. But I stand by what I said before — you would have done well in Slytherin —“ The hat said, looking approvingly at Holly, who in fact, did do well in her house of green and silver snakes… well, she did until Halloween…
Harry had caught sight of an old red bird, further inside the office, only for it to burst into flames when he grew near. Dumbledore chose that moment to descend from the upper level of the office, driving Harry into a massive panic. “Professor! Your bird- I couldn’t do anything - he just caught fire-” Harry Cried.
“About time, too, he’s been looking dreadful for days - I’ve been telling him to get a move on.” Dumbledore explained, patiently, from the landing above them. He came down the stairs to meet his (now newborn) bird as it crawled out of its own ashes. He offered a hand to it, letting it perch on his wrinkled forefinger. “Faux, is a phoenix, Harry. Phoenixes burst into flame when it is time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes. Watch him…”
The headmaster set his bird back down and faced the twins.
“Please, we didn’t hurt anyone, Professor, I swear!” Harry said, desperately.
Holly could only stand there silently, though it felt as though the great wizard's gaze was boring throgh her…
“I do not believe that either of you hurt young Miss Rosier, or for that matter, anyone else… but I must ask, is there anything you’d like to tell me?”
Harry looked like he definitely had something to say, but he shook his head. “No, Professor.”
Holly swallowed the dry lump that had formed in her throat. “Is it… is it something we could be doing without knowing, Professor?” She asked, terrified, but determined.
“Hmm…” Dumbledore said. “An interesting thought, Miss Potter.”
“Professor? If you don’t think either of us did it, then are we not in trouble?” Harry asked, carefully.
Dumbledore smiled at them. “No, you aren't in any trouble. You may go if you wish. But please, be careful.”
Holly lingered a moment longer than her brother, but only a moment. She locked eyes with the headmaster and an understanding bloomed inside her. *She was onto something with her earlier question*. Holly blinked. Turned. Headed for the door.
Harry was waiting for her on the staircase. “Holly?” He asked, just wanting to be sure she was alright.
“It’s nothing.” Holly told him, because to him it would be. He was very smart. Good at puzzles. He fit pieces together in ways other people overlooked- but, he was also thickly skulled at times. He might not understand.
A silence fell between them for the span of half the journey down the spiral steps. It was heavy and uncomfortable, so it was unsurprising when Harry broke it with a change of subject. “Why do you think McGonagall had you come? Weren’t you in her class when…?”
Holly shrugged. “I’m not sure. Maybe to get me away from the others...”
Harry stopped to look at her. “What do you mean, Holls? Is something going on that you aren’t telling me?” he demanded.
She sighed and sat down on the steps. He did the same, though he looked somewhat confused by it. “It’s just… your housemates - do they think you did it?”
Harry frowned. “A few. Most know I didn’t or they just don’t talk about it in front of me. Why?” He was watching her worriedly.
“The ones who do think it was you. How do they react?” Holly wondered, already knowing.
“They’re scared, mostly. Again, why?” Harry asked again.
Holly felt herself smile at the bitterness of it all. The absurdity. The horror. “Because they cheer for me.” she admitted, quietly.