Chapter 27 - Salazar

Stats as of last chapter:

Aubrey Hawthorne

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Level 20

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Age - 12

Race - Human

Gender - Female

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SP - 6,435

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Str - 32

Agi - 55

Dex - 43

Con - 39

Int - 48

Wis - 44

Luc - 38 (66)

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Skill Points - 20

Stat Points - 70

Perk Points - 2

Chapter 27 - Salazar

Samhain comes, starting out with Flying and ending in Herbology. Sarah stays close to me, worrying I’ll lose us Points by refusing to attend the Feast as I did last year, even if it was halfway accidental. I’m able to slip away for a chance to do a Dungeon to burn some annoyance off at the mandatory celebration after Herbology when Sarah turns her back.

Since the first month of the year, I’ve been working on the lower floors of Gryffindor Tower that are open to all students. I have a higher Healing Skill than last year so I don’t have to worry about injuries so much any more, so it’s okay for me to jump in at any time since I can fix myself from the bumps and knicks. I feel I must know almost all the Dungeons in Hogwarts, but occasionally I do run into one that must be new. As it is, Gryffindor Tower spirals up five floors and down to the dungeons, each room in it leading to multiple dungeons of all different Levels.

As such, it makes me suspicious that something must be around the Tower.

At the top of the winding stairs between the point of the fourth and fifth floor, there’s an old classroom that I Observe so I can check it’s Dungeon Level, but get a message I hadn’t the last time I had Observed it.

The Lost Room

Secret Location - Dark Rituals prevent students from entering this room. You are an exception due to your soul's age and the Samhain

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This room was lost for a reason. The Dark Rituals done here bring in the spirits of the dead. This full moon, they’re extra potent

An Undead themed Dungeon? Absolutely! I accept the choice from The Game to proceed with the Level 15 Dungeon.

The world warps and stretches, then settles around me, and I’m surrounded by the castle, much the same as it had been, but now in an obvious state of disrepair. Almost as soon as the world stills from its rapid changing, a staggering feeling draws a gasp from my lungs.

I whirled around and cast a piercing hex, at eye level for myself. I hit the Zombie who was three paces from me in the neck, and it topples over, dead. The door behind me, which I used to enter the Dungeon, is beginning to leak dark smoke from around the edges. I try to enter, finding it firmly sealed.

I know full well my understanding of Dark Magic is not the greatest, much less the topic of rituals but something… something in the air perhaps, heavy and thick. A ritual has been recently completed, or is in the middle of being conducted, and it’s dark.

I skitter away from the scene and zip around a corner, finding more Zombies. Three Pulso later and they’re down, letting me continue. Wherever the ritual is, or perhaps the people that did it, must be my goal, meaning I need to find the room.

I come to a forked corridor I’m very familiar with as it’s close to the secret portrait that hides a passageway behind it that allows the user to get from one side of the castle to the other in half the time. I come to a silent stop and listen closely. Two sets of feet are moving, but where one is staggering and clearly a Zombie, the other is lifting their feet, moving more easily. Erecting a shield and spelling myself invisible, I poke my head around to find them. I Observe the one moving with more ease.

Wight

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Level 13

MP - 0

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Kill Reward -

250 xp

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A commander of undead, this one is recently revived. He is sapient and is already looking for ways to break free of his orders so he can kill his summoner - and as many people as possible

Something new, how lovely for me.

Starting with the Zombie, I throw a Pulso and piercer at its back, sending it falling directly to the ground where it’s old, rotten skull burst

The Wight turns to me and snarls, brandishing almost an entire set of teeth at me. I use the Fire-Bolt Charm, something I’ve been experimenting with to reduce the amount of Mana it needs to perform, only for the creature to block it with his heater shield and challenge me with the tip of his sword.

I respond with a Lightning Spear, which it either accidentally shields by stumbling or is truly that dexterous. It charges at me, screaming with its head forward. I sidestep the creature and it goes wide of me. As it goes charging past, I’m delivered a clean shot to set it on fire, pierce its legs and remove the sword via a floating spell.

I get a shock when the Wight not only regains its balance but also snatches the sword back out of the air. I don’t allow for anymore chances, slashing the creature's torso from its legs. Falling with a furious cry, I crush its head to finish the fight.

Breathing harder from my momentary fear, I realise my shield and invisibility spell fell away during the fight. Well, I’d known I wasn’t invisible when the Wight turned to me, but I hadn’t exactly sat down and thought about it.

Brushing myself off, I continue my journey, destroying another Wight and several more Zombies along the way. As I go, I remind myself that I need to work on some more powerful spell combinations as these Dungeons obviously require it! Wights might stumble, but they’re not stupid - they can think for themselves, learn and correct mistakes.

I creep around a corner keeping a good space from whatever new, strange creature I can hear stepping down the hall, finding one of the most seemingly ancient creatures I’ve ever witnessed - he looks like a Wizard, with deep wrinkles, moles and liver spots.

I level my wand at his neck, the tip glowing meanly. “Name yourself!”

“Ah, Rowena’s mystery, The Champion,” he purls, not at all put off by my show of power. “You’re... younger than I remember. What are you doing back, now that he who claims my blood betrayed us all? Or is it that you’re just now coming, for the first time?”

I blink and lower my wand. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. Have I been sent back in time again?”

“It certainly appears that way,” he comments. His voice, while breathy, stays steady. Once, when this Wizard had been young, he must have had a powerful, clear voice. “What do you know of this time then?”

“That depends who you are,” I snark, put out that he clearly knows me and I don’t recognise him at all. I haven’t met him yet. Well, not that I remember.

“Salazar Slytherin.”

Oh. So I have met him, but barely. “I fought against Zadgar the Necrotic with you. For me, that was less than six months ago.”

“It’s incredible how time works,” he says vaguely. “We are coming up upon my son. You should prepare.”

“What’s happening?” I ask. “Your son betrayed you? He’s raising the dead?”

“Indeed. I suppose you wouldn’t yet know. My only son has betrayed me and wishes to take my place at Hogwarts. Tonight, I will be the last of my house.”

I cringe inside. Filial betrayal may be uncouth, but he’s also talking like a walking Dark Wizard alert. “In my time,” I venture, “you’re known to be a Dark Wizard.”

“Oh? That is a shame.”

“Are you saying you’re not?”

“We do not have the time to talk about my actions,” he wheezes, coming to a stop so he can cough. It's a lung stealing, sickly cough. “I have come to avenge my closest friends, as is right.”

“You’re going to kill your son?” I ask, half stepping back without meaning to. To kill your own child is… it’s horrifying.

Hand against the wall, he smiles at me through his pained expression. “I’m a failure of a sire, to raise a child that would kill so many. I do not know what your history tells you, but I assure you, this pains me. I fear I won’t be able to follow through. I hate his actions, but he is my only son.”

I gingerly transfigure an abandoned hat into a walking staff and hand it to the founder. “What do you plan on doing?”

Slowly, he hobbles forward with the staff, looking ahead resolutely. “I will have to kill him. There is no other way.”

“And if you can’t do it?”

He sighs. “I do not know, old friend. I hate to ask this of you, after all you’ve done, but I’m afraid I must ask for your assistance once more. If I fail, will you take my place?”

Slowly, I nod, feeling as the air gets thicker the closer we get to the ritual room. “I will,” I tell him softly. In truth, I will do what is right at the time, as I’m not sure I trust him yet. He may be as evil as his son. If anything, his son killing him and me taking his place of killing his son would be the safest option to remove them both from the equation. I just need to make sure whatever steps I take, they don’t lead to my death.

“Thank you, dear,” he murmurs, shoulders sagging in palatable relief. “I will show you to his ritual chamber, where he is raising more dead. If you deal with his Dark creatures, I will take care of him. I trust, if I die, you will destroy my body?”

Considering he’ll probably die in the ritual circle and will be remade into an undead, that answer is easy. “If that’s your wish. Sir, how strong do you expect his defence to be?”

Salazar wheezes what should have been a laugh. “Time has not changed you. I expect his defence to be his minions. The physical power will be strong, but I trust you are able to outsmart them. If you know how to create magical traps, I’ve found them all quite useful. They can’t detect the subtlety.”

‘Fuck,’ I swear to myself. I know no magical traps. “What about magical weaknesses?”

“Cold. They hate the cold.”

I nod with more confidence. As a dead being, Undead can’t regulate their body heat, much like cold-blooded animals. I can treat them a bit like large Fire-Salamanders.

We come up to the room. We’re at the same door I came to the Dungeon through, the thick black smoke still pouring through the edges. A few more Wights are around, which Slytherin dispatches with a simple flick of his hand. Meanwhile, I have to use multiple spells to deal with the smaller amount of simple Zombies!

It really shows the gap in power we have.

While I was dealing with the Zombies, Slytherin had been staring intently at the door. As I warily watch, uses his wand, which I Observe to see is an oak shell. Not even a wand, really. He uses his stick to cast some spell at the door. That spell zips away as it ricochets off a shield.

He tuts. “What do you know about wards, girl?” He asks me.

“Not a lot, sir. Just a bit of theory,” I respond honestly.

“Shame. Still, you may be of help. Come.”

I do as I’m instracted, as I have nothing else I can do. When I’m beside him, he places a hand on my shoulder.

“Just stay still and do as I say, girl,” he wheezes, hand shaking as he performs his magic.

I’m not entirely sure what he’s going to do until I feel him pull at something inside of me and realise, without knowing how, that he’s pulling at my magical core. I can do nothing as his grip on my core means I can’t move, can barely breathe - he doesn’t let me go even as the door cracks and splits.

It feels as if hours go by, though it must have been less than a handful of seconds, and he released me.

I’m given no time to recover even as I fall to my knees in breathless shock because Slytherin steps through the door frame, it’s door disintegrating. Quickly it disappears into the black smoke. It smells of sulphur and something sweet, something that tingles in the back of my nose and roof of my mouth.

“‘Zar,” I hear Slytherin wheeze, and then the smoke entirely disappears, revealing through the arch Slytherin standing in the centre of the room, standing before his son who sits on a large stone throne. Between the two men is a large runic circle that’s still glowing ominously. Bodies of dead students and adults are stacked atop each other on the left side of the room, and on the right is a long table with arithmetic equations and whatever else made up creating the undead no doubt.

Even though I’m watching with wide eyes, it still takes me more than a few moments to focus on the danger itself. Three Zombies are curled up in the ritual circle where Slytherin’s son must have just created them. Four Wights stand like sentinels around the man, who looks exactly like the younger Slytherin I met, if not a few years younger than that. He must be under thirty. These Wights seem happy to be of protection to their master, but don’t move now Slytherin stands before them.

‘They have the same name too,’ I suddenly think, wetting my lips. That just makes thinking about the men more difficult.

“Father. You finally show your face? After standing by and watching for so long? You choose to attack me now?” The junior mocks.

“‘Zar,” Salazar starts again, seems to speak more to himself than his son. “Let me end this quickly.” He cuts his wand towards his son.

The young man knows his father well, as he’s rolled out of the chair and pushed one of his Wights out of the way fractions of a second faster than Slytherin senior cleaves the solid throne in two. “Do you think you can stop me? I have consumed the power of hundreds, old man! I took what you were too weak to take!”

His rant is enough to pull me to my feet. My magic shifts angrily inside me, filling my veins with adrenaline and excitement and feelings it shouldn’t as it wracks through me. Spells begin between the pair, violent and colourful, and I’m not the only one that escapes the storm.

“Oi, asshats!” I shout, whipping my wand the way the boys had learned in First Year to make a loud bang and spark the ground. The four Wights and one of the Zombies that escaped turn to me. “Your fight is with me!”

They advance on me quickly enough that I back away - all but two of the Wights follow, those two standing by the blasted door to aid their master if they could. It gives me hope I have the fighting edge.

I start with Slytherin senior’s advice, casting a strong freezing charm on the female Wight, who howls in pain and reels back. I grin, only to retreat quickly as the other charges quickly.

I have no choice but to give more ground, before I can scream, “Retundere!” The Bludgeoning Hex, in my haste, hits his right arm rather than torso, hitting it with so much force the entire limp goes flying down the hall. The Wight, in the school uniform fashion of the time, must have been a fifteen year old boy, who now roars at me.

Behind me, I notice right in time as two Zombies, their sounds covered by the mens’ fight and mine. I swivel and destroy them quickly, clenching my jaw against all panic - I know what to do, the spells and movements, but my body insists on panicking in the face of such extreme danger!

Just as the two Zombies go down, I’m grabbed from behind by the larger, female Wight who has recovered from my earlier charm. I wriggle and lash out, her grip on me tightens around my arms to restrict where I can point my arm. As the reality of my position fills my mind, panic wracks through my body. I try desperately to concentrate, watching the male Wight shove the bumbling Zombie that came with them away as it got to close to me, giving the Wight access to me.

I try to throw myself to the floor, but the female Wight, being dead, has limited restraints on her muscles and can simply keep me up despite my admittedly small weight.

A single second of writhing later, the male claws across my body with his hardened nails, slashing through my clothes and digging deep across my bottom rips. I scream out in pain, blood gushing from my living body far faster than theirs. I’m not ready for his second attack either as it claws at my wand arm, drawing deep wounds from my wrist to elbow.

My eyes shoot open from the shock and I wail louder as the woman bites down on my shoulder, crunching down on my bones even as my clothes protect my skin from getting punctured.

One thought cuts through the pain, more of a motion than a thought, and I act, pushing magic through my wand that I wildly hope is pointing in the right direction - I think of no spell but my magic knows how to act, and the Wight is blasted back into the wall behind it. The force of the magic pushed me back also, throwing me and the female back. I land atop of her, the force causing her to lose her grip.

I’ve rolled up and away before she has that second to recover. From my knees, I shout the freezing charm once, twice, three times before I’ve gotten a grip of myself enough to control my Mana output. Glancing at the Zombie and male Wight, who are both advancing after the spells pushback, I wet my lips and move around to the other side of the female. The female screams turn to growls that soon subside into whimpers. My wand grows cold from the spell and it becomes hard to hold though I never let up. All the while, the Wight and Zombie tauntingly follow me.

I wait until I can no longer before stopping the spell and hitting her with a shattering spell usually reserved for breaking glass in emergencies - learnt as part of my Healers personal protection spells for emergencies such as escaping house fires - which cracks the female Wights skin. As the creature tries to fight it, part of it falls off until it’s unable to move any longer.

I have no time to double-tap it or check if it’s definitely down for good as the male is almost within striking distance. I finish him much more cleanly now I’m not panicking so much, slashing at the Wight so it is cleaved in two down the torso.

With only the one Zombie left, I’m able to finish the fight with just my usual combination before I lean heavily against the cold wall and listen to the men fighting. The sounds are incredible, hitting the inside of my skull so loud I can barely hear myself think. There’s no way I can, or want to, get anywhere near their fight, so I attempt to focus on myself. I’m so much more grateful I’ve learnt what healing I have, as I’m able to clean the wound on my stomach and help my skin clot to stop the blood flow before the wall around the ritual room is utterly blasted through, sending dust and a cacophony of noises everywhere.

I can’t think of anything other than to move, find somewhere safe. The fight makes its way to the hall as I trip on a stair and fall onto my wounded shoulder, surely shattering the bones in my collar. Tears fall from my eyes as I force myself up, clinging to my memories of being able to do this so much easier. I’m not who I was anymore, but I’m still strong, still push through and make myself move up the stairs until I can crawl behind a wall at the top for safety. I still hear the noise below and the quaking of the stone under the pressure of their magic. Up here it’s easier to breathe away from their magic.

As I begin to clean and help my blood clot around my arm, I ask The Game a question. ‘Game. What happens if I affect history? What’ll happen?’

The answer is immediate.

Your actions here affect your surroundings and as such, they will affect history. It is advised you do not mess with history too much

“Excellent,” I mutter to myself as I scan my shoulder to see the mess. I don’t get much back from the charm other than the knowledge that the bone is, in fact, broken. I don’t have any true mastery of it yet. I haven’t studied this fight or ever read of it, so I don’t know how it ends or what I should do. The only thing I can do is stay out of it.

Not only that, but I don’t dare go near them. Their power and abilities are far above anything I’ve ever witnessed in this life - magical fights in my past life had been far different to this, so the situation is new. There’s nothing I can do.

It’s comforting, as I flinch at the sound of a BOOM so loud it leaves my brain ringing that this has nothing to do with me. Sure, it’s terrifying, but there’s nothing I can do either way. An answer is better than being unsure and frightened.

I don’t notice immediately that the fighting is finished as my ears are ringing and my brain is pulsing from the fight. After some minutes lying in a painful ball on the floor my ears clear and I’m able to think better once more. Slowly, I begin to listen out for what’s happening.

Nothing.

So much for certainty. Now I don’t know what to do again.

I gingelly stand and make my way down the stairs, which already have a fine layer of dust on them, to see what the outcome is. If Slytherin junior is alive, I’ll have to come up with a plan, but perhaps that’ll be the better option. I don’t try Slytherin senior, so perhaps them being dead isn’t so bad.

I find, instead of bodies, the elder Slytherin in the hallway looking into the ruined ritual room alone, a look of profound sadness on his face.

“My old friend,” he rasps quietly. “I failed my friends.”

“What do you mean?” I hesitate in asking, hedging closer to see into the room. It's a shattered mess with a large portion of the outer wall smashed. Slytherins son isn’t here, so I can only imagine he must have gone through the wall with the stones. “Isn’t he dead?”

“No.” There’s a short pause in which I glance at him. I can’t look for long. The absolute grief on his lined face is hard to watch. “I have banished him from the wards. He can’t harm the students any longer.”

“That’s good,” is all I can think to say.

He says nothing for a time and it’s hard for me, even without trusting him, to leave an elderly father alone after the tragedy he just had to face. I’ve lost children, I know the grief he’s feeling. To take their place, I’d have given everything each and every time. No matter how good or bad they get, no matter the wrongs they commit, it doesn’t stop the parental link one has to their child.

“Sir,” I say softly. He doesn’t glance at me, his eyes glassy. “Come. We shouldn’t stay here.”

“He had no honour in the end,” he mutters, breathing raspily. “What did I do wrong, Aubrey? I have no other heir. The children of my friends are dead, and one of those friends is dead too. Another on her way out with Godric off fighting some war which will likely see him join them. The students… most of them are dead. It’s my fault.”

“You aren’t your son,” I remind him gently, knowing that won’t help. I remember the same words uttered to me once. That memory is enough to bring tears to my eyes once more. “Come.”

I take his arm and he lets me pull him away from the wreckage and down the hall. We’re silent for a long time, even he finds the strength to lead us to a room I’ve never been to in the present, or future, depending on how it’s looked at. I lower him into a sofa where he sits heavily.

“Thank you, my dear,” he croaks, dissolving into coughs.

“Can I order an Elf, or someone to your side?” I ask.

“Don’t worry for me,” he manages, gaining control over himself again. “There’s nothing you can do now. Thank you for your help. I am sure you have to leave again soon.”

“I expect so,” I agree quietly, taking a seat opposite him.

“I will have to select a new heir,” he sighs quietly, looking off out the window. “The others set up binders that, upon their line's destruction, a non-filial person could be selected to carry on their work. I never did the same. My family’s traits, cunning, guile, wit and honour… I expected my ‘Zar would be the epitome of that. Instead, he grew to have no honour.”

“Not all children are like their families,” I comfort him. “I left my own parents to follow dreams of power. It took hundreds of years to realise my mistake.”

He smiles for a flicker of a second. “Thank you for your words. I don’t suppose you can tell me who I chose as my heir?”

I shake my head. “I’ve never read about this fight,” I tell him honestly. “I don’t know what will happen next.”

He nods. “I understand. I think, then, it’s time for me to be alone. I must grieve, and rebuild. Collect the dead. You may go. I hope to see you again before my final day.”

His dismissal works as if I requested such from The Game myself, and I am sent back to my time where I’m suddenly standing in front of the former ritual room.

‘Me too,’ I think. As with before when I was with Rowena Ravenclaw, my shirt is ripped and so is my sleeve, but my injuries are gone. I carefully try the handle to The Lost Room, and it opens.

The throne is gone and the wall rebuilt, the bodies removed. It’s musty, as if not all the construction dust was cleaned before the room was sealed, and on the ground there are deep charred marks in the stone where the ritual had been performed. There’s no magic in it now so I assume it must have been cleansed. The only item in there is a sealed envelope where the thone once stood.

It feels wrong to step on the former ritual circle, so I step around to take the letter. On the back is my former name, written in a handwriting long out of date. I turn it over and study the wax seal, which is an identical copy of the Slytherin House logo.

Careful to preserve the original wax seal, open it up and pull out an aged, well slip of parchment which I read.

“Aubrey Temporan,

I write this not long after the banishment of my only child. I do not know when you will return to my time, if ever, but I write to you, for I feel the need to find a closure to this room. One day, I expect you will find it in your time, and come back to aid me. Once you have read this, please reseal this room. I am working to remove knowledge of this Dark ritual from the school so that an act like this never happens again. It shall open to you alone. Remain strong. Know that I am.

S.S.”

Looking at the stain of the ritual circle, I understand why he did so. I wrap my cloak around my front to hide the slashes in my clothes and close the door behind me. I don’t know any spells to seal it again, so I instead do the next best thing.

“Mipsy!”

The House-elf takes a few minutes and then pops into view with a water stain over her middle and a dish towel in hand. “What can Mipsy bes doing for Miss Hawthorne?”

“I’m sorry to take you away from your work when you’re preparing the feast, Mipsy, I just needed your help. I need you to swear to secrecy.”

She instantly fiddles with the towel nervously. “Miss Hawthorne is a Seconds Year,” she struggles. “I’s can’ts bes doing everything Seconds Years be sayings.”

“I know,” I smile kindly. “This room shouldn’t be open, should it? I wanted you to close it and tell no one. You can look if you want. I didn’t want any students getting in or staff trying to investigate and getting hurt.”

Mispy considers my words waily before snapping her fingers. The door opens and she looks in, squeaks and slams it shut with magic. “How did Miss Hawthorne bes getting into this room?”

“I don’t know,” I lie. “I just opened it and realised it was bad. You’re the only Elf I know here, so I called you.”

She nodded quickly, ears flapping. “I’s will lock this room,” she agrees, clicking her finger. “Buts I’s be having to tell Headmaster Dumbledore. I must.”

I sigh in my head but agree. I get her to agree to not tell anyone it was me that told her about the room unless she’s ordered to by the headmaster at least, though she doesn’t seem happy about it.

When she’s gone, I cast the Tempus charm to check the time, finding it’s a quarter past six. This is perfect, as most students are at dinner by now, giving me a chance to get to my dorm mostly unseen.

I enter the Tower through the seventh floor and go directly to my dorm. To get there, I have to go past the large chandelier in the centre of the room and through the maze of books over to the other side of the room where the stairs are. Only those with assigned rooms are allowed to go up, though there’s no magic stopping anyone from visiting unlike downstairs where magic prevents the opposite sex from getting through to the oppostite side. Here, we’re trusted, plus the dorms here are filled with Prefects and Heads. I’m on the eighth floor of Ravenclaw Tower, near the stairs. I share a bathroom with several other girls, though it’s as large as any of our rooms and we rarely run into each other.

I grab my towel and strip to nothing, where I notice in my mirror I have a light, thin, almost unnoticeable scar across my diaphragm and on my forearm. I inspect myself until I’m ready to go to the bathroom. It’s strange to see my body with scars. But it was always going to happen.

Sighing, I go to the large bath that’s twenty feet in each direction with benches on two of the sides to sit at. I dump my wash bag by the edge and turn the bath on and add the minty sea salt scent to it. By the time I’m done in the toilet stall, the bath is filled.

I enjoy the heat and calm for some time, resting my head back on a bath pillow. I wish I could just stay in bed and enjoy the evening, but I know there’s no point even trying. It’s not been long in the present time since I left Sarah, but I bet she’s already looking for me. Muscles losing their tension, I now allow myself to look at the Dungeon reward.

Dungeon Cleared!

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Rewards -

Secret Mission “Salazar’s Lament” Complete - 10,000 xp

Title gained - Salazar’s Favour (i)

Title gained - The Girl Who Leapt Through Time (i)

Total xp - 16,400

Loot from Dungeon added to Inventory!

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Level Up!

You are now Level 24

+15 Stat Points

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4,895 xp to Level

I think combat gives me more xp than practising. It feels to me I should gain more from practising or knowledge in general. After all, there are many ways to skin a cat - I’m only showing one of those in the final action.

I don’t have the energy to deal with my new Titles, so I continue to soak until my timer for the feast goes off and I have to get out.

Back in my large dorm, I dry off and get into a fresh school uniform. The dorm is filled now almost identical to the one I had in First Year, except there’s more room and we both have a wardrobe and chest of drawers. It’s nice to have a window most of all though, which shows the sunset. As I’m styling my hair to go around my hat, the door swings open and Sarah gapes at me.

“There you are!” She tuts, closing the door. “I didn’t know where you were.”

“I was in the bath and didn’t realise the time,” I tell her, spelling my hair to curl a lock at a time. “Why? Did something exciting happen?”

“No, no, of course not. Well, except that Dan and Lauren are going out.”

“Going out?” I question.

She gives me a confused look. “Yeah. You know, dating? They’re boyfriend and girlfriend.”

I grimace and pull my hair over my shoulders. “Cool.” I actually think they’re too young to date but this is yet another time I have to stand by and simply be a Housemate. I’m not their parent, after all.

“It was so cute, they held hands downstairs!” She gushes. “Do you have any crushes?”

“No,” I say with a blunt flatness. I have no attraction to people so young! They’re twelve! I know I’m capable of getting crushes, Professor Babbling proves that, but that is not the same as being attracted to my Housemates.

“Really? Do you fancy any professors? Or think they’re, you know, hot?” She questions with a grin. “I won’t tell anyone, promise.”

I roll my eyes and finish my preparations. “And I promise you I don’t.” A slight lie. I may not have the childish crush on Professor Babbling any more but I still can’t help but smile when she does. She’s a beautiful woman. Also, there’s a N.E.W.T Transfiguration professor who is very attractive, and so is his wife who I believe works in administration. Still, I’m not going to tell my twelve year old friend I find adults attractive because in her world, we’re children and that's inappropriate.

“Come on,” I cut her off before she could go on about boys. “We should go.”

“You better not be planning on sneaking off again,” she warns me. “You’ve got to come!”

I sigh. “I am. But I hate the idea of celebrating it!”

“Then don’t celebrate, just attend,” she placates me.

Sarah keeps an eye on me just in case right up until I take my seat at the Ravenclaw Table. The Great Hall has at least a thousand live Barbastelle bats, which are a very dark coated British variety. When I first Observe them and find they’re really real, I get quite concerned for the waste they might produce, but thankfully the staff thought of that as I see no droppings. They keep swooping together across the hall and over the tables looking for bugs, making the few candles stutter. The feast appears suddenly on the golden plates after the Prefects confirm we’re all in, and the doors are closed.

As I’m helping myself to some pumpkin soup and sourdough bread, I look over at the Gryffindor table to find Harry. He’s recently gotten a broom in the mail and it’s been confirmed by Angelina and Alicia who are on the Gryffindor team that he’s their new Seeker, which has been -

The double Great Hall doors slam open and Professor Quirrell comes charging into the room, his turban askew and terror on his face. I think every single person in the Hall stares at him as he sprints across the Hall and leaps up onto the platform with the Head Table.

The strange, stuttering man all but throws himself across the table, sending a large chicken to the floor.

“Troll,” he gasps, “in the dungeon - just thought you ought to know.”

And with that, he faints and slips to the floor.

Sighing, I take a few sips of soup while the rest of the room starts screaming and shouting. Sarah clings to my arm, though I’m not sure what help she thinks that’s going to do, and Heather bursts into tears. The deafening uproar only lasts seconds before several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore’s wand causes the room to silence.

“Prefects,” he rumbles, a deep furrow between his eyes. It’s somehow more concerning to me to see his concern than the actual knowledge of what’s happening, “lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately!”

“What?” I mutter, frowning myself. Slytherin is in the dungeons!

Percy Weasley is in his element, shouting above everyone else for Gryffindor to follow him. I expected the Ravenclaw Prefects to take the same measured response they did to the feast at the start of the year where they show the First Years the way but no - they get just as caught up in the panic and we’re forced to bottleneck through the school.

I’m up on the fourth floor, seperated from my friends by much larger students that shoved us out of the way, when I get slammed in the side of the head and sent in a circle, then get pushed and shoved until I somehow get thrown to the edge of the mass. There, I gasp and hold my head where I was hit.

I’m halfway through thinking of ways I could identify who hurt me so I can jinx them, when Harry and his friend Ron go rushing past me looking harassed.

The opposite way to their Tower.

There’s no one else around I can tell as all the professors are helping with the troll and no one else is paying attention to anyone but themselves, so I take off after them.

They lead me to the ground floor where they join the Hufflepuff students running to the stairs going down to their Common Room. As we’re passing, I hear some teaching assistants calling out to the Hufflepuffs to hurry, and I’m immensely glad as that must mean professors would have been sent to help the Slytherins who are far, far deeper into the dungeons.

They split from the Hufflepuffs and I’m halfway through the crowd when I realise I’ve lost sight. I push and shove my way through to the other side, looking frantically for the boys. They’re nowhere I can see. They could have gone down with the Hufflepuffs to the dungeons, or anywhere else in the castle. I go running away from the the dungeon, hoping they weren’t so stupid as to go after a troll themselves.

Though I truly fail to imagine what else they could be going after.

For five minutes I've been running up and down corridors, and have just accepted that they must be in the dungeons when I hear a loud thump from somewhere close by.

I take off after it, disillusioned as I don’t want to be caught by any professors. I stop outside the girls bathroom, and my mouth opens in shock. The entire place is utterly destroyed, dust and shards of porcelain across the entire bathroom. In the centre where a column surrounded in sinks used to be is now a large mountain troll with a wand up its nose and Harry Potter on it’s back.

“Is it… dead?” Hermione Granger, a bushy haired girl I’ve seen wandering the stacks of the library every so often. She’s a Gryffindor that’s quite clearly an only child from a small private school.

“I don’t think so,” Harry replies, slipping off the creature. “I think it’s just been knocked out.”

He’s right, which I confirm by Observing it. Harry bends down and pulls his wand out of the troll’s nose. It’s covered in what looked like lumpy grey glue - I almost gag at the sight.

“Urgh - troll bogies.”

The boy starts to wipe it on the troll's trousers right as I hear running towards the hallway. My eyes widen and I dash off - Harry’s safe anyway! And I do not want to get in trouble for trying to stop him from being killed… even if I hadn’t helped in the end.

I arrive back at Ravenclaw Tower through the seventh floor entrance, hoping to avoid detection. I’m still disillusioned, but several students still see the door open -- and no one comes in. I run off before several detection spells hit where I was.

I go to the bathroom, which is mercifully empty, and remove the spell, taking the time to calm down.

Three First Years took down a full grown mountain troll. That is insanity!

I go up to my dorm where Sarah is waiting for me, asking where I was. I lie to her, telling her I got lost, and it’s clear she doesn’t believe me but lets it go. We’re sitting on our beds, waiting for the other to speak after that conversation, when we hear a bell asking us to all meet in the Common Room downstairs.

Taking a deep breath, I follow my friend down.

Professor Flitwick is standing on a stack of books in front of the statue of Ravenclaw, all us students packed in to see him. As of next year this will be much harder, as the baby boom after the war means there will be a lot more students beginning. For now, though, we stuff ourselves in to see our Head of House.

“What happened?” Someone calls out.

He hushes everyone with some gentle hand motions. “Quiet down, students, quiet down. You’ll be glad to know the troll has been dealt with and-”

The room goes up in cheers and claps. I clap along with everyone until Professor Flitwick demands quiet again.

“The troll has been dealt with and has been contained for removal. Thankfully no one has been hurt, though I must inform you that the girls' lavatory on the first floor near the Hufflepuff stairs is out of order as the troll took out his frustration on the sinks.” He gets a few laughs. “As for how he was defeated - three First Years ran off from their groups and got trapped with it, risking their lives in the process. I can’t begin to express how thankful I am that it wasn't any of my House that was so foolish. However, we believe there was another set of feet fleeing the scene, so I do sorely hope none of you were involved.”

His eyes look over practically every face in the room, inciting excited whispers. When his eyes meet mine, I can’t help the flip in my stomach.

I know I have to tell him then. It’s time to forgo my fears. He has to know.

“As none of you are willing to step forward,” he continues, “I hope that means none of you were involved. As it is, we will be continuing the feast here in the Common Room!” A wave of his hand makes two large tables appear full of all the same foods from the Great Hall. “Enjoy your celebrations!”

I go after him as everyone goes for the food, beating him to his office. There, he smiles at me.

“Hello, Miss Hawthrone, is there something I can do for you?”

I swallow and nod. “I need to talk to you, sir. It’s important.”