The Petrified of '92
On November eighth of 1992, Colin Creevey was Petrified.
It was thought to be a direct result of his camera that must have captured something it shouldn't have, as it was the only thing the frightened boy was clutching with a vice-like grip at the moment of his discovery.
When Reese saw Hermione that morning, rushing through the corridors with a small black sack that contained glass objects clinking around softly inside, she glided past Reese like a fleeting wisp, vanishing into the abandoned girls' lavatory.
As Reese proceeded along the hallway, she paid no mind to Hermione's curious conduct and instead focused on her own journey. Theodore Nott strolled behind her, unzipping her book bag that hung off her shoulder, his fingers expertly rifling through her belongings as though he had done so a thousand times before. He causally sifted through its contents, plucking out her books leisurely as he examined each worn cover.
Reese snatched one away from him, determined not to provoke his nosiness. "Give that back—"
"Why do you need three of these? Your bag already weighs a ton. And with Lockhart's—"
"Bold of you to assume I carry those around." Reese said flatly, and Theo began to thumb absently through the pages of each one he held.
"Which one is this?"
"One I read during breakfast."
"And this one?"
"Unabridged journals."
"Ah, and this?"
"Biography, maybe."
"Okay, you don't need all of these."
Reese swung her bag to access it from the front, plucking the books from his hands and stuffing them back, seamlessly reuniting them with their brethren nestled within the depths of her bag. "I think I do."
"Just carry one. You're going to get a bad back like Blaise."
Reese cast a disbelieving glance in his direction, her eyes betraying a sense of incredulity and skepticism as they ventured out toward the courtyard. "Blaise never slouches. He scolds me for it—"
"Fine, you'll get a bad back like Goyle."
Reese gnawed on the flesh inside her cheek with measured deliberation, her thoughts consumed by rational contemplation. With a decisive click, she expertly sealed her bag, effortlessly transferring the weight to her opposing aching shoulder, a habitual act honed by years of practice. "I'll take my chances."
Theo's retort was abruptly silenced as a figure, covered in matted fur and oozing boils, leaped out from behind a marble statue. "Boo!"
As if struck by a sudden force, both Reese and Theo stumbled backwards, their hands instinctively reaching for their thoracic cavities in a desperate attempt to regain composure. The enigmatic figure, which until then had been a grotesque amalgamation of monstrous proportions, abruptly disintegrated into an awkward standstill, its hands listlessly dropping to its sides.
"Sorry, Reese!" The voice of Fred Weasley spoke from the mouth of the creature, "I thought you were Ginny."
Reese sighed in relief, looking bemusedly at him. "Why are you covered in fur and boils?"
"George and I are taking turns jumping out at Ginny to cheer her up. Been a bit glum, she has."
Reese raised her eyebrows. "Uh huh. And why did you think this," gesturing with a pointed sweep up and down Fred's physique, "would be the way to do it?"
Fred was revving for an answer, before he glanced just past Theo's shoulders. With a swift motion, he promptly resumed his previous position, crouching under the statue, and exclaimed, "There she is! Disperse!"
Theo wasted no time in extricating himself from Fred's frenzied escapades and proceeded to traverse the roughly hewn path. Reese cast a fleeting glance over her shoulder and observed Fred, in a fit of lunacy, springing out from his hiding place to startle Ginny, and Ginny whacking him across the shoulder with a large textbook.
"I think this is why the Slytherins hate you so much: your friends are nutters." Theo noted.
She rolled her eyes, "The Slytherins hate me because they think I'm loony—"
"Merely for the convenience of your surname. And because you're a wiseass Gryffindor," Theo added helpfully.
"Yes, thank you for your insight. I believe it was you who disliked me for being a Gryffindor." She reminded him rationally, and he held his hands out in feigned surrender.
"Right, I did, until it turned out you weren't utterly atrocious at Potions and I could use it to my advantage."
Reese snorted, "How thoughtful."
As the duo approached the verdant landscape of the Herbology greenhouses, Theo deftly sidestepped the overgrown grass and continued, "You're all right to have around, for a loony Gryffindor. Are you staying over the holiday?" He asked conversationally.
Conveniently, the full moon for December fell precisely on the ninth day, and the subsequent one was slated for January nineteenth. This meant that she could return home without the onerous weight of the impending Turning looming over her head. Consequently, she could luxuriate in the yuletide cheer alongside her father, unfettered by the prospect of spending her time at the mercy of the shack’s unforgiving hold.
Reese shook her head. "Not this year."
The Herbology lesson transpired in its usual manner, with the members of Slytherin and Gryffindor congregating in their respective sections of the classroom. Professor Sprout delivered an elaborate lecture on how to tend to her rarest specimens, with particular emphasis on the intricacies of nurturing Mandrakes. The recent events had been a catalyst for Sprout's unwavering focus on the cultivation of Mandrakes, as they were integral to the development of a cure for those unfortunate enough to be Petrified.
As Thursday afternoon's double Potions lesson loomed nearer, Dean traveled with Reese briefly before catching the first sight of Theo, whom he strongly disliked. The proximity between the two individuals was short-lived, as Dean immediately deviated upon entering the expanse of Snape's classroom, and subsequently relocated himself at his customary position adjacent to Seamus.
"You're still alive?" Blaise commented dryly once she sat down at their table. "Heir hasn't gotten to you yet?"
She dropped her Potions textbook in front of her, flipping through the pages until she reached the one written down on the black chalkboard. "That's not funny, Blaise. Colin still isn't back to normal. He's hardly even alive, he's just—frozen."
Theo slumped into his seat at their table as well. "Unfortunately, the heir wouldn't be after Loony here because she's a half-blood. Unless you are secretly a Mudblood, in which case I would have no choice but to deprive you of my friendship."
Blaise's lips contorted into a sardonic smirk as Reese, with a hint of deference in her tone, interjected, "And when the heir gets to you for being a prick, I'll be sure to host the celebration."
Theo responded with a playful wink before departing alongside Blaise to procure puffer-fish eyes for their designated elixir. Snape's monotonous lecture persisted in the background as Reese and Blaise huddled over their bubbling cauldron, bickering on how to properly complete their Swelling Solution.
Draco Malfoy, situated a few seats away, maliciously hurled objects in Harry's direction with the knowledge that any form of retaliation would result in Harry shouldering the entirety of the consequences, owing to the evident partiality of their professor. Ron and Harry could hardly finish their potion with the amount of time they spent scowling at Malfoy.
Theodore was paired with Daphne Greengrass, who was halfway through giggling at a joke when Snape paused in front of their cauldron to correct it.
As Snape arrived at Harry's station, he promptly contorted his features into a sneer upon observing the subpar fluidity of Harry's concoction, unleashing a flurry of censuring remarks concerning his lackluster abilities before shifting his attention to Neville and subjecting him to the same malicious treatment.
Blaise was snapping his fingers in Reese's face now, trying to draw her back to their assignment, but her eyes were back on Harry. He was presently concealing himself behind his cauldron, frantically rummaging through his pocket from behind the table.
"Lupin. Loony. Reese, give me the—"
"Wait," she paused hesitantly, raising a finger to halt him. In the next moment, a diminutive, smoldering object was hurled across the room, colliding with a clattering clink within Goyle's cauldron. A sizzling firework erupted, causing Goyle's concoction to combust with a resounding boom, evoking shrill screams and gasps from the entirety of the classroom.
Reese was caught up in a fit of laughter as Malfoy got a thick faceful of the Swelling Potion, becoming the recipient of a liberal dousing of the potent elixir as his nose bulged triple its size. Goyle, whose appendages had also swelled to an even greater extent, frantically brought his hands to his face and began to blubber incoherently, utterly befuddled by the bizarre turn of events.
Snape was frustrated at his own confusion, trying desperately to get the class to quiet down and get the chaos under control. In an effort to mitigate the damage caused by the deluge of potion, which had engulfed nearly half of the students, he directed them to proceed to the front of the room for an administration of his specially formulated Deflating Draught. Reese, with an irrepressible smile on her face, acknowledged Theo with a nod as he begrudgingly made his way to the queue, clutching his rapidly inflating elbow. Daphne soon followed suit, her lips engorged to a comical size.
And just as Reese was about to turn back to her Potions partner, who was still cursing under his breath, she caught Hermione sneaking out of the room and out towards the dungeons with the ghost of a triumphant grin on her lips. Hermione Granger, causing mischief?
"When I find out who threw this," Snape said coldly, looking right at Harry with a sneer, "I shall make sure they are expelled."
When they were dismissed ten minutes later, Theo and Blaise were undeniably peeved. "You better not have had something to do with this. If there's anyone Snape wants out of this school more than Potter, it's you."
"Blaise, I was right next to you the whole time!" Reese argued defensively, "You know I didn't do it! Props to whoever did, though." She began to snicker again, "God, Goyle's face—"
"You and those Weasley's," Theo said, shaking his head. "A firework?”
"It wasn't me!" Reese reiterated once more. She was acutely aware of the true culprit's identity and her complicity in a separate scheme with Ron and Harry, who were doubtlessly engaged in some form of mischief at that very moment. "Maybe Goyle truly is just terrible at potion-making."
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"Dueling?" Reese said skeptically, handing the flyer back to Seamus.
"It could come in handy!" Seamus advised, passing the sheet behind him to Dean so he could pin it to the noticeboard. "Especially now."
"The first meeting is tonight. Come on!" Dean said enthusiastically. And, after considerable persuasion, Reese acquiesced and agreed to attend the meeting, which was slated for eight o'clock that evening.
As nighttime descended upon the Great Hall, the dining tables were swiftly disassembled and replaced with a resplendent golden stage. The enchanted ceiling, imbued with timeless magic, depicted the night sky in all its grandeur, imbuing the space with an atmosphere of mystique and wonder. The velvety darkness was punctuated by the radiant glow of countless candles, suspended in the air and casting their warm light upon the room below.
What Reese hadn't expected, however, was the impressive turnout of those who did show up. The current crisis plaguing the school had seemingly spurred a sense of urgency among the students, compelling them to hone their skills in self-defense should the need ever arise.
The crowd was abuzz with excitement and anticipation as they awaited the arrival of the professor who would impart their dueling knowledge. Luna stood beside Reese, swaying gently on her tiptoes while gazing up at the enchanted ceiling. Blaise stood to Reese's other side,appearing to be very bored. Reese vaguely recalled Hermione mentioning that Flitwick was once a dueling champion; perhaps he would be the one to teach them.
All hopes Reese once garnered for a competent instructor were squashed when Gilderoy Lockhart swaggered arrogantly onto the stage, wand swishing haughtily by his side with each pompous step he took. Reese heaved a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.
Snape followed in Lockhart's wake, his demeanor as icy and unyielding as ever, openly glowering at the deluded professor as he began to boast about his supposed exploits and impressive dueling techniques. ("For a full account of my adventures, see my published works!")
"My assistant here, Professor Snape, knows a tiny bit about dueling, and will be helping with a short demonstration before we begin! Don't you worry, though—you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him!"
From behind Reese, Ron whispered to Harry, "It'd be brilliant if they finished each other off."
Reese grinned as Snape's face contorted into a sneer of contemptual disdain. The two instructors bowed toward each other before resuming their dueling stance.
With a commanding flourish, Snape cried out the incantation, "Expelliarmus!" The spell surged forth like a bolt of lightning, hurtling towards his hapless opponent. Lockhart, caught off guard, was promptly sent hurtling through the air, his back slamming into the wall before he crashed heavily onto the floor. A collective gasp filled the air, accompanied by winces of sympathy for the fallen professor. Amidst the clamor, the Slytherins erupted into raucous cheers, hailing their Head of House's prowess. Meanwhile, Reese and a handful of others, savoring the comeuppance of their most detested instructor, broke into a spirited round of applause.
A high-pitched shriek escaped Lavender's lips, while Hermione, standing on her tiptoes, covered her mouth in apprehension. "Is he alright?" she exclaimed.
"Who cares?" Chorused Harry and Ron.
Lockhart, meanwhile, managed to regain his footing, though his once impeccably styled hair was now in a state of disarray. His wand had been forcefully dislodged from his grasp, and Lavender sprang forward, eager to retrieve it for him.
"Ah, thank you, Miss Brown. Your cooperation was most helpful," Lockhart acknowledged with a self-satisfied smirk. "Naturally, I intended for that demonstration to take place. It would have been all too easy for me to halt your progress. Nevertheless, it was advantageous for the students to witness firsthand how..." Lockhart's voice trailed off as he caught sight of the venomous glower directed at him by Snape. Sensing the need to move on, he clapped his hands briskly. "Now, let us proceed with the pairing up of everyone, shall we?"
Naturally, Snape was adamant on separating Ron and Harry from each other. Seamus was paired with Ron, while Hermione joined Millicent Bulstrode. Alas, it seemed that Harry's ill fate persisted, for Snape held a vehement disdain for him, and thus paired him with Malfoy. The latter, with a malevolent grin plastered across his face, relished the opportunity to annihilate his opponent.
Snape's cold gaze flickered between Reese and Blaise, his expression unforgiving. "I don't think so. Lupin, join Lovegood. Zabini can go with Goyle."
They split off into their groups, and Luna shifted her attention away from the mesmerizing enchantments adorning the ceiling, returning to the present moment as they stood across from each other in preparation for the impending spar.
As the participants took their customary bows, Lockhart's voice echoed across the room, resounding with an authoritative tone. "Wands at the ready!"
With synchronized precision, the entire class cried out, "Expelliarmus!" The resulting exchange of spells ricocheted through the space, reverberating off the walls.
As Lockhart's voice rose to a fever pitch, Reese and Luna turned their heads to witness a fierce and furious duel between Malfoy and Harry. Spells were hurled back and forth with rapid-fire speed, the air crackling with the energy of their incantations. The deafening chants of "Rictusempra!" "Tarantallegra!" and "Finite Incantatem!" reverberated throughout the room in quick succession.
Amidst the chaotic fray, Luna and the other onlookers gasped in horror as the mayhem unfolded. Neville Longbottom and Justin Finch-Fletchley lay sprawled on the ground, writhing in agony. Seamus was left with an ashen expression, bearing the brunt of Ron's wayward wand. Meanwhile, Millicent had Hermione in a vicious headlock, rendering her helpless, and their wands lay discarded on the ground. Harry, despite being significantly smaller than she was, leapt to pull Millicent off of Hermione.
Reese blinked, trying to register what exactly had just happened, and Lockhart was scurrying around in an attempt to guide the situation back into normalcy. "Up you go, Macmillan! Apply pressure to that, Boot, it'll stop its bleeding eventually! Right, I ought to have taught you how to block spells..."
"Malfoy. Potter. Come up here." Snape's flatly ordered command reverberated across the room, though the sinister glint in his black eyes betrayed the monotonous indifference in his voice. Harry and Malfoy strode up to the stage with measured steps, each wordlessly daring the other to make the first move. Snape leaned in close to Malfoy and whispered something in his ear, causing a malicious smirk to curl on both of their faces. Harry swallowed nervously as they each took their positions, the air around them crackling with tension.
As the students' gaze was fixed upon the unfolding calamity, the previously intense and fervent duelling around them faded into obscurity, as if dissolving into the ether.
"Scared?" Malfoy taunted him, raising his wand.
"You wish." Harry muttered.
"On my count!" Lockhart cried, "Three—two—one—go!"
In an instant, Malfoy shouted with a flourish of his wand, "Serpensortia!"
Through a subtle, yet masterful movement of his wand, Malfoy summoned forth a dark and foreboding serpent, its sinewy form slithering and twisting through the air with ominous grace before coming to rest on the ground with a menacing hiss. Harry's pupils dilated with sheer horror, while the room erupted into a chorus of shrill screams and gasps, resonating from every corner. Lavender flung her hands over her eyes, while Neville's face drained of all color. The onlookers hastily retreated, creating an open space on the floor in their wake.
Snape, who was visibly entertained, lifted his wand in order to banish the snake. Lockhart, however, objected, claiming that he was capable of handling the matter himself. Regrettably, his efforts proved futile as the snake soared a significant distance in the air before crashing back down onto the ground with a palpable sense of fury.
The infuriated serpent wriggled with baleful intent along the ground, its razor-sharp fangs bared as it advanced menacingly towards Justin. Beside him, Ernie Macmillan stood paralyzed with fear, his countenance reflecting the terror that gripped Justin. Anticipating the inevitable attack, many students turned away, unwilling to bear witness to the impending tragedy. Yet, as if sensing something that eluded their perception, the venomous creature suddenly ceased all movement and came to a still, leaving the room steeped in a tense silence.
As Harry neared the snake, emitting sounds similar to those it had produced, a collective hush descended upon the onlookers who gawked at the scene with incredulity and bewilderment. All eyes were fixed upon the curious spectacle, as if caught in a trance. In a sudden turn of events, Justin's quivering fear was replaced with a muddled mix of frustration and terror.
"What do you think you're playing at?" Justin bellowed, not giving Harry a chance to formulate a reply. With a swift pivot, he stormed out of the Great Hall, his visage awash with a blend of ire and vexation.
A cacophony of murmurs and hushed whispers erupted in the Great Hall, as Blaise exhaled a winded breath. "A Parseltongue," he explained, his tone dripping with incredulity.
"What?"Reese jolted, swiveling her head towards Blaise's towering figure behind her. "Parsel—no, no. I mean that's..." It was mad. The mere notion that Harry could speak the language of snakes was preposterous, a notion that would only exacerbate the rumors already swirling around him as the supposed descendant of Slytherin. If word of this spread, it would inevitably breed further mistrust and contempt among his peers, casting a pall of doubt over his every move.
Snape, after vanquishing the snake, was also scrutinizing Harry with a studied and calculating gaze, as was everyone else. Hermione brushed past Reese, with Ron hot on her heels, as the two of them hastily escorted Harry out of the Great Hall.
"It's mad!" Dean's voice rang out in disbelief. Neville still appeared to be reeling from the encounter, and Seamus shook his head skeptically, seemingly at a loss to make sense of the bizarre occurrence. The four of them strode through the corridors, huddled in deep contemplation, exchanging incredulous remarks about the inexplicable spectacle they had just witnessed.
"I know. It looked as if he were, I dunno, egging the snake on." Seamus added. Reese shook her head.
"Don't be ridiculous, Harry wouldn't do that." Reese said, "Justin's furious, though, and so is Ernie."
"They are sure Harry is the heir now." Seamus informed, "I think they're convinced he told the snake to attack him, and if it weren't for Snape getting rid of it, that Justin would've been done for."
As they continued to converse, nearing the moving staircases, Reese paused hesitantly. The group's conversation tapered off, and they all turned their attention to Reese, curious about her sudden halt. She chewed on her lower lip, her brows knit together in thought.
"You lot go on, I have to head to Pomfrey." Reese said as she began to stray away. They all looked at her oddly.
"You didn't get injured, did you?" Dean asked, concerned. She shook her head quickly.
"No, no. I have to," Reese racked her mind for some sort of viable excuse. "I think Lacey may be in there from the dueling incidents, I should check in with her."
"Oi, Neville," Seamus said suddenly, and Neville's head perked up in alarm. "You should get that nasty burn checked out from Ron's wand."
Neville was holding his forearm, which was showing red beneath his fingers. Casting nervous glances between Seamus and Reese, he waited uncertainly, unsure of what to do next. Reese gestured for him to follow, and Neville stumbled forward, his gait unsteady as he struggled to keep up. Dean bid them a friendly farewell, his wave a symbol of camaraderie and goodwill, before ascending towards the tower with Seamus in tow. Neville nodded, looking slightly embarrassed, and the group dispersed. Reese watched them go, before heading in the opposite direction towards the hospital wing.
As they traversed down the corridor in a silence punctuated only by the sound of their footsteps, Neville broke the quietude, his voice echoing softly in the empty space. "Do you...really think Harry is the heir of Slytherin?"
Reese shook her head. "No. After all he's been through, he would never disparage against Muggle-borns like this. It's all very bizarre, though."
"That's what I thought, too." Neville, in a pensive tone, opined. "I didn't think it made sense with Harry being a Gryffindor either. He's too noble, I think. I'm not very Gryffindor-ish, I reckon the Sorting Hat made a mistake." A flush crept up Neville's cheeks as he hastily closed his lips, chagrined by his loquaciousness.
Reese smiled, pleased by his company and conversation. "I don't think they made a mistake, Neville. You're far braver than I am."
Neville grinned coyly, "I begged the Hat to put me in Hufflepuff. It seemed far less intimidating. Are you afraid of the heir coming for you, too?”
She chewed her lip contemplatively. Did the heir consider werewolves an enemy? Everyone ought to have. "I hope not. I've been trying to keep an eye on Hermione."
"I brought a newt-tail and and purple crystal around the school to protect myself, but Professor Snape confiscated it." Neville recounted with disappointment.
Reese's brows pinched in thought as they turned another corridor. "Protect yourself? I thought you were—aren't you a pureblood?"
Neville frowned. "Yes, but everyone knows I'm practically a Squib. I can't even sit my cauldron upright. Half the time, Snape knocks mine over anyway."
"He doesn't like me either. I reckon he has some sort of vendetta against my dad. They attended Hogwarts together, and I don't believe they were the best of friends. How's that arm of yours?"
He lifted the sleeve of his robes once more, and Reese saw the red splotchy blemish residing there. The tape holding Ron's snapped wand crookedly together didn't seem to suffice. Although Reese had observed Madam Pomfrey's adept wizardry on numerous occasions, she abstained from offering to mend Neville's wound, lest it worsen and lead to additional distress for the already frightened boy.
As they stepped into the infirmary, the somber silence of the night was amplified by the emptiness of the room, save for a handful of students seeking medical attention following the failed Duelling Club meeting. Pomfrey, the ever-vigilant matron, was tending to their needs with a mix of efficiency and compassion. Upon noticing Reese's arrival, however, she beckoned her over with a warm smile of recognition. Reese greeted her with customary civility, her perceptive gaze noting the matron's keen observation of her physical state. Pomfrey exuded an aura of unwavering strength and fortitude, her pristine white apron a symbol of her dedication to the wellbeing of her students.
Reese was no stranger to the infirmary, and she recognized the nurse’s subtle shifts in demeanor, a testament to her acute awareness and attentiveness to the needs of those under her care.
"Good evening to you both. Longbottom, hold out your arm, dear." Madam Pomfrey flicked her wand as Neville's eyes snapped shut in anticipation of a great bout of pain. When the wound mended and he felt no such thing, he peeked an eye open cautiously. "There, all fixed!"
"Thank you!" Neville exclaimed, still staring at his arm in amazement. As he turned to depart, he paused to look curiously back to Reese, leaning side to side as if debating whether he was supposed to leave or not. "Should I stay? Or, I mean, do you—"
"No, no, Neville, don't worry about it. I don't know how long I'll be, you go on."
"Okay, then!" Neville gave one final friendly wave goodbye, his boyish grin showing big and white. "I'll see you tomorrow!"
When Reese turned back to Madam Pomfrey, the nurse was already yanking apart the folds of a nearby curtain and guiding Reese into the intimate enclave where a solitary hospital bed stood. "What brings you here, dear?" she inquired, her tone imbued with warmth and concern. “Has everything been the same? Joint pain? Headaches? Lack of sleep? Eating more than usual? Not eating enough?"
Reese shook her head. "No, no. I mean yes to all of those, like usual, but I was just—I'm due for another check-in before I leave for break."
"Ah, yes, of course. Please, have a seat." A quill was conjured into her hand, and with deft movements, Madam Pomfrey began to tally through her notepad, her penmanship graceful and precise. "Your last full moon was better than usual. You've been doing well?"
"Er, yeah, I suppose." And she was. Beyond the unceasing, relentless burden of her lycanthropy that plagued her existence and flesh incessantly, she had little to grouse about. Consistent correspondence with her father, camaraderie with her friends, the fact that she still drew breath despite the maladies that afflicted her, and most of her newer scars remaining underneath her shirt were points of solace.
"That's wonderful. There won't be any full moons taking place during the two weeks you'll be gone, and you'll be back in time for January's. So," Madam Pomfrey looked up from her notes, quite pleased. "Everything looks goodthen!Any issues I should be aware of? New symptoms?"
"No, no." Reese shook her head, clearing her throat. "I'm good."
"Wonderful. That Lockhart's Duelling Club went utterly sideways," Madam Pomfrey endeavored to suppress the acridity in her tone and replace it with a demeanor of decorum, fitting of her esteemed position. "I am still tending to the students who weren't instructed how to protect themselves against defensive spells, but I have something for you first."
Reese watched in bemusement as Pomfrey turned to disappear behind the curtain before returning with a small kit in her hands. She set it onto the bed and Reese clicked it open to examine its contents. Self-applying bandages, magical sutures, sample-size ointments and draughts. Reese rifled through them in fascination.
"Whenever you are home or unable to get help from me or another professional, you have your own supplies in case of an emergency. Now, you should know that these aren't as advanced as supplies in my stores or at St. Mungo's, but it is suitable for someone of your age and condition."
Reese felt a surge of gratitude in her chest, closing up the kit and tucking it beneath her arm. "Thank you."
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"He's a Parselmouth, Hannah," Ernie said solemnly, turning towards her with a grave expression. "That is the mark of a dark wizard, everyone knows it. Slytherin himself was a Serpent-tongue."
Lacey resolutely dismissed the notion from beside Reese, shaking her head in negation. "No, no, no. You can tell Justin that he doesn't have to hide out in his dorm any longer, because Harry is not the heir of Slytherin!" Lacey turned to Reese, who was lost in contemplation amidst the imposing rows of books. With a firm gaze, she questioned, "Right, Reese?"
Reese blinked, looking around her library table again. She cleared her throat, nodding, "Right. Don't be an idiot, Ernie."
Ernie's eyes rolled upwards in exasperation, as he began explaining his reasoning with the pedantry of a philosopher communicating a complicated theory to a group of daft toddlers. "Who was the first on the scene when Filch's cat was attacked? Potter! Remember the writing on the walls?"
"Enemies of the heir beware!" Hannah Abbott recited anxiously, toying with one of her blonde pigtails.
"Colin Creevey always annoyed Potter. He kept snapping pictures of him at that last Quidditch game when Potter was lying in the mud. Where's Creevey now? He was attacked, too."
"But he stopped You-Know-Who!" said Hannah uncertainly. "Everyone thought he was a nice boy!"
Reese's jaw clenched in irritation as she turned to leave, and Lacey got up from her seat hesitantly to follow suit. Ernie leaned forward to continue his prattle with his Hufflepuff companions, lost in a world of his own foolishness, as Reese and Lacey distanced themselves from his insipid company.
"What a bunch of pricks." Reese emitted an audible grumble of irritation, her lips pressed tightly together, as she led the way through the quiet expanse of the library. "I thought Hufflepuffs were nice."
Lacey's lips parted to speak, but her words died in her throat at the sight of Harry. He stood before them, his expression mirroring Reese's frustration. They exchanged a knowing glance, united in their mutual annoyance at Ernie's absurd theories.
"Harry," Lacey began nervously, wringing her hands, "I'm really sorry about my brother. He's just—he gets caught up, I think. Too involved in things he doesn't understand."
Harry took a deep breath, his expression etched with frustration as his eyes flitted towards the table of Hufflepuffs with evident disdain. The notion of approaching them in an irate manner appeared to be simmering within him, and Reese perceived it as too incongruous to restrain him. He nodded to Reese, then to Lacey, "It's fine. Thanks for, er, defending me."
Lacey swiftly pulled Reese along, eager to escape from the library and the scrutinizing gaze of Madam Pince, who was meticulously polishing the gilded cover of a large textbook. Reese followed along obediently, her thoughts still mulling over the insinuations they had just left behind. As they passed through the stacks, the musty smell of old parchment filled their nostrils, and the flickering light of the enchanted torches illuminated the path ahead.
The wintry tempest that raged outside Hogwarts' walls veiled the castle's interiors in a somber shroud, depriving its occupants of the natural light that once permeated the hallways. Yet, to Reese, the gloomy atmosphere was not a source of dismay but rather a source of solace, for the unyielding walls of the ancient fortress seemed to encircle and shield them from any perils that might lurk beyond its ramparts. The thick snowfall was a welcome reminder of their safe haven, a cocoon of protection against the outside world. It was as if they were all being shielded from danger.
But they weren't.
On December eighteenth of 1992, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick were Petrified.
"Oh, Potter, you rotter, oh what have you done?" Peeves the Poltergeist sang with a wicked giggle, "You're killing off students, you think it's good fun—"
"Enough, Peeves! Everybody clear out!" Professor McGonagall ordered as the thick crowd of students and teachers bombarded the commotion. Ernie and the rest of Justin's friends were glaring daggers at Harry, and Professor Flitwick and Professor Sinistra carried Justin up to the hospital wing. Ernie, likely as a punishment for his open accusations and finger-pointing when Harry was found first at the scene, was instructed to be responsible for wafting Nearly Headless Nick up the stairs with a large fan.
The dual assault had thrown the entire populace into a state of heightened anxiety, fraught with fear over whose unresponsive body they might stumble upon next.