Fleeting Whispers
The Sorting Hat gave a final, exaggerated hum before calling out, “HUFFLEPUFF!” Cheers erupted across the Great Hall, the Hufflepuff table loudest of all as the timid first-year hurried over to join them. With a practiced ease, Professor McGonagall lifted the hat from its stool, and in an instant, the golden plates shimmered—rich steaks, steaming vegetables, and overflowing pitchers of pumpkin juice appearing as if by magic. Laughter and conversation filled the hall as students eagerly dug in, their plates piled high. Beth, however, barely noticed. Her food sat untouched, her finger absently tracing the rim of her goblet as her thoughts drifted elsewhere.
Best stay sharp— or lose it all.
Was this just another one of Peeves jokes, or was there more to it? The words gnawed at Beth’s mind, the green flicker in the sky replaying in her thoughts.
“Beth? Earth to Beth?”
Beth blinked; snapping back to the present. Across from her, her friend Fae raised an eyebrow, twirling her fork between her fingers.
“What’s up with you? You look like someone just told you the house elves went on strike,” Fae said, stabbing a potato with unnecessary force.
Beth looked down at her plate again, pushing a piece of bread to the side. “Nothing.”
Victoria, sitting beside Fae, gave her a doubtful look. “You sure? You’ve been totally spaced out this whole time.”
Beth forced a shrug, shifting her food around with her fork. “Just tired. I ate on the train, so I’m not really hungry.”
Fae’s eyes flicked past Beth’s shoulder, and a slow smirk crept onto her face. “Don’t look now, but Williams is totally staring at you.”
Beth scoffed. “Pssh. Weirdo.”
Victoria followed Fae’s gaze, her expression shifting to a mix of confusion and amusement. “Yeah, she actually is. What’s her deal?”
Beth huffed, picking at the edge of her napkin. “She’s probably plotting new ways to be a pain in my ass.”
Fae nudged her foot under the table. “Or she’s obsessed with you.”
Beth rolled her eyes. “Should I turn around?”
Fae’s smirk deepened. “Oh, absolutely.”
Beth shifted in her seat, turning just enough to glance at Ellie’s table—only to find Ellie looking straight at her. The moment their eyes met, Ellie’s expression flickered—surprise, maybe, or irritation—before she quickly looked away, pretending to focus on her plate instead.
Beth sneered, spinning back towards her friends with a smug smirk. “Looks like I scared her away.”
Victoria raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Looks like it.”
Beth was still grinning when the sound of clinking goblets and scaping chairs signalled the end of the feast. The warm buzz of conversation dipped as Professor McGonagall stepped forwards, clearing her throat.
A hush fell over the great hall. Then, with a familiar twinkle in his eye, Dumbledore rose from his seat.
“Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts,” he began, his voice effortlessly commanding the room’s attention.
“I am so glad to see so many familiar faces—and some new ones,” he said, his gaze sweeping across the Hall.
The candlelight reflected off his silver hair, his half-moon spectacles perched low on his nose. “Now, before we begin this year’s studies, I have a few notices to share.”
He clasped his hands together. “Firstly, Mr. Finch, our beloved caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden in the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos. Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list—now totalling four hundred and thirty-seven items—can be viewed in Mr. Filch’s office, should anybody wish to review it.”
The corners of Dumbledore’s lips twitched and he went on. “As always, I would like to remind you all that the Forbidden Forest remains off-limits to students, and Hogsmeade remains restricted to third-years and above.”
He opened his mouth to continue— but at that moment, a deafening clap of thunder shook the castle. The doors to the Great Hall burst open.
A figure stood in the doorway, shadowed against the flickering candlelight. He leaned on a long staff, a heavy black travelling coat draped over his shoulders. The storm howled behind him, and for a moment he remained motionless, letting the tension settle in the room before stepping forwards.
With every other step, the sharp clunk of his staff echoed through the hall, a low and deliberate rhythm. Beth sat frozen, unable to tear her gaze away. As the man reached the front of the room, he pulled back his hood.
A gasp nearly escaped her lips. His face was like a patchwork of scars, deep and jagged, as if someone had tried to carve him apart and barely stitched him back together. A single real eye bore into the crowd, sharp and piercing, while the other—an eerie, artificial orb—swivelled wildly in its socket, scanning the Hall in every direction.
Dumbledore stepped forwards, shaking the man’s outstretched hand as they exchanged a few quiet words.
Beth swallowed. This guy’s a teacher?
Dumbledore turned back to the students. “May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher—Professor Moody.”
For a moment, silence hung over the room. Then, whispers broke out like wildfire. Beth exchanged a wary glance with Fae and Victoria. From the corner of her eye, she caught Ellie muttering to her friends.
Moody reached for a flask at his hip, taking a long swig. Why couldn’t the Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers ever be normal?
Dumbledore cleared his throat, effortlessly reclaiming the room’s attention.
“Now—where was I?” Dumbledore paused. “Oh, yes. This year, no student is permitted to be outside of their dormitory after 8:30 pm.”
A wave of groans swept through the Great Hall. Beth scoffed. She wasn’t one to sneak out after dark, but an earlier curfew was still an annoyance.
A few tables over, Ellie caught her eye. She smirked, tilting her head ever so slightly—mocking, expectant. Waiting for Beth to react. Beth rolled her eyes. If Ellie thought an earlier curfew would stop her from doing what she wanted, then she was an even bigger idiot than Beth had thought.
Beth barely had time to groan before the feast ended, and students poured out of the Great Hall. She had only taken two steps when she felt a presence beside her. Ellie, of course.
"Enjoy the feast, Winters?" Ellie drawled. "Hope you’re ready for me to humiliate you in Quidditch—again."
Beth scowled, speeding up. "If I flew like you, I’d fake an injury and pray nobody remembered I was on the team."
Ellie smirked, matching Beth’s pace. "Catching the Snitch isn’t that hard, but I suppose if anyone could make it look impossible, it’s you."
"Merlin’s beard, are you following me?" Beth scoffed.
Ellie hesitated, her smirk flickering for half a second—but she didn’t slow down. "I need to talk to you."