14.Samhain

31st of October, Thursday

Magic was wonderful!

A whole new world filled with what felt like infinite possibilities. Yet, for all its differences, it was no different from what was called the muggle world.

Hermione was friendless two months later, which wasn’t particularly new. She was the top points earner in Gryffindor, but very few of her housemates were particularly interested in activities like studying!

That nasty duel between Longbottom and Lestrange had been a chilling yet eye-opening experience. The worst part was the legality of the situation and the fact that very few seemed to be bothered by the wanton display of violence, which was somehow in line with the rules…

Of course, Hermione had checked the library, and nothing in the wizarding law or vague Hogwarts rulebook forbade duelling. Even the limitations and rules were annoyingly contradictory!

Ever since the duel, Gryffindors had begun receiving looks of suspicion from Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, which seemed to be more distant from Hermione’s housemates, as if they’d jump on them like rabid animals. According to her gossipy roommates, some Hufflepuff fifth-year prefect, a relative of Lestrange, was on the warpath against the lions, dishing out detentions and point reductions for the slightest offences.

Still, the fact that a usually polite boy like Longbottom could present such a font of violence was jarring, and she did not know what to think of this whole thing. The rest of the lions seemed torn between praising the boy for his boldness and cursing him for giving them a bad name. Longbottom did challenge Lestrange when she was tired, and plenty of his fellow Lions see that as a deed worthy of Slytherin, not something a Gryffindor should do.

Hermione was simply appalled by the wanton desire for violence by any side. Even more so when the teachers could not, no, would not warn them against repeating such an action. From her understanding, no one believed Longbottom should be in trouble for what he did, not even Lestrange’s supporters. It made her wonder if someone would challenge her like that, and as she had no way or influence to protect herself like the other two, how would she fare in this environment?

“Today, we’ll begin practising the levitation charm!” The squeaky voice quickly brought her out of her musings.

Professor Flitwick had already laid down the theory and wand movements in the previous weeks, and now it was only time to get the spell to work. Hermione had managed to cast the spell before, of course.

Idly, she watched as her schoolmates began waving their wands at the provided feathers, and the classroom was filled with the sound of childish chanting. Very few were successful – many were trying the usual swish and flick but not to effect. Finnigan eventually poked his feather in frustration, Weasley was waving his wand arm like a windmill, Patil and Brown were giggling between their attempts, and only Longbottom and Taylor managed to get it right.

Hermione would usually be annoyed at Weasley’s pitiful attempts or Fey Dumbar’s unenthusiastic wand-waving, but her attention was elsewhere.

Of course, Lestrange and Potter were off to the side with Flitwick, who quietly gave them different work – advanced material from the following years because both could already do the charm, and one of them silently at that! Both were confident and experienced; magic came to them as effortlessly as breathing. Any of Hermione’s efforts seemed meagre before the two eagles.

They were too good.

It wasn’t fair. The worst part is that Hermione had to see them every week, and the fact was constantly rubbed in her face every time Gryffindor and Ravenclaw shared a class. Her attempts to grab the teacher’s approval seemed for nought when they were there.

Why couldn’t they just move to the year above or something!?

Apparently, Juno was some sort of wizarding nobility, born into some influential, powerful House with tutors since she could walk, which was completely unfair. How could Hermione compete with such a thing? And the Boy Who Lived was no lesser, each following rumour about him more outlandish than the next. At first, the bushy-haired girl thought it was all gossip, but Harry Potter’s competence could not be denied. He was better than Lestrange, after all.

Potter might be withdrawn and Lestrange – cold, but both followed the rules and were favoured by the teachers – especially Flitwick and Quirrell. Ravenclaw was already seventy points ahead of Slytherin and nearly three hundred and fifty ahead of Gryffindor, courtesy of Neville’s fight.

Sometimes, Potter looked around the classroom with his unsettling emerald eyes, and his gaze lingered half a moment longer on Weasley or… her. It was not something she could decipher, at least not at first. Yet after two months, she found a tinge of sorrow and something that looked like a mix of pity and concern. Today, the glances were even heavier.

It infuriated her.

Everyone liked the Boy-Who-Lived, but his presence irked her despite Potter not doing anything wrong. He wasn’t ugly or mean; people admired him for no reason; everything came effortlessly to him. Over half the teachers favoured Potter one way or another, although only Flitwick seemed open about it.

Even now, the emerald-eyed Ravenclaw was succeeding in a spell she couldn’t recognise from the first or second-year charms book Hermione had found in the library.

Her self-study hadn’t progressed as quickly as Hermione hoped either – most of the magic in Miranda Goshawk’s Standard Book of Spells Grade One proved challenging and exhausting on top of all the homework.

“Aren’t you going to try?” Sophie Roper’s quiet voice came from her side. The only other muggle-born Gryffindor girl in her year was tall, thin, and skittish with long chestnut hair as straight as an arrow.

Hermione palmed her wand, calmed herself down and went through the motions. Swish and flick, “Wingardium Leviosa!”

The feather levitated much to Sophie’s excitement, but the bushy-haired girl didn’t feel thrilled, not when Potter and Lestrange were doing advanced magic a few desks to the side. Even Professor Flitwick didn’t pay her much attention, as she was the third to get it after Taylor and Longbottom. There was no praise, no points, just a nod of acknowledgement that made her feel sour.

“Uh, could you help me?” Her deskmate’s question was so quiet Hermione barely heard it.

Sophie stared at the unmoving feather before her.

“Show me what you’re doing again,” Hermione curiously focused on Roper.

The school day went without a hitch – it was a surprise but a welcome one for sure.

Still, Harry couldn’t shake away the ominous feeling at the back of his head – one not based on anything besides his lacklustre luck with this day in particular.

Bats fluttered like black clouds in the air, and many more could be seen along the walls and ceiling, making the pumpkins and candles above stutter uneasily.

Hallowe’en was just as Harry remembered it. A glance told him that Hermione and Ron were at the Gryffindor table. The gangly red-haired boy seemed bored, while the bushy-haired girl glared at him when their eyes met before continuing to lecture the quiet Sophie Roper about something.

Harry couldn’t help the guilt and longing that swelled within – his former friendships were gone for real now. Logically, he knew the connection would never be, but Hermione’s ire still stabbed him in the chest like a serrated knife, even when he hadn’t done anything to earn it.

Exhaling slowly, Harry steeled himself – it was for the better. Everyday school woes for Ron and Hermione were far more fitting than any lethal adventures they would go on with him. One unlucky moment could quickly turn things fatal…

His gaze turned to the staff table, where Professor Quirrell, charming smile on his face, was chatting animatedly with Trelawney. Filch, too, was at the end of the table, looking as grumpy as always with his beady black eyes inspecting the students for wrongdoing. Even the grouchy Mrs Norris was there, rubbing around the cranky caretaker’s boots. He felt relieved; it seemed like there would be no trolls tonight.

“Where are you going?” Diana’s curious voice halted him as he stood up. Bloody hell, Juno and a dozen Ravenclaws nearby were now looking at him with interest. There were still a few minutes until the beginning of the feast – the golden plates still stood empty, and the Great Hall was not full just yet.

“Don’t feel particularly hungry,” his throat was dry, and the words felt like lead on his tongue. It was not a lie – the elves had prepared a hearty meal in the kitchen earlier. “I’ll just take a walk.”

Even after running his mental exercises a few times, the feeling of trepidation did not go away, but at least he could keep his face expressionless with some difficulty. The auburn-haired girl seemed confused, but there was a gleam of understanding in Juno’s icy eyes.

None stopped him as Harry waddled through the stream of students still coming in and finally left the Great Hall. For ten minutes, he walked around idly until no more students were in sight. Just in case, he wandered around some more before finally heading to Filch’s office.

Everyone was at the feast now; all the ghosts were at the Deathday’s party, and most paintings were fast asleep with nothing to catch their attention in the empty hallways.

Surprisingly, the divination spell Flora had offered him a week ago worked, albeit after much practice. Nearly fifteen hours of it, in fact. It was odd that one of his least favourite subjects had an actual, practical application – Harry wished that Trewalney had focused on things like that more instead of crystal balls and other silly forms of fortune-telling…

“Requrio Marauder’s Map!” The wand motion was convoluted – a spiralling swirl, followed by a sharp W-shaped jab flowing into a swish; the concentration required was nothing to scoff at either. It needed strict visualisation of the desired object, and the further it was, the higher the strain on the caster.

Just as before, an image of a dingy wooden cabinet marked ‘Confiscated and Highly Dangerous’ in an ugly scrawl appeared in his mind. It was vague, fleeting, but Harry did recognise it, and it brought him an immense feeling of relief. Thankfully, the map itself had not been enchanted against such types of magic; otherwise, he would have been screwed.

After all, he had been in Filch’s office before. Soon enough, Harry faced a weathered wooden door leading to the caretaker’s haunt. A rusty nail pinned the long list of forbidden objects on it.

Carefully, Harry grasped the handle and pushed, but the dark door didn’t budge.

One unlocking charm later, he was greeted by the dingy windowless room stinking of fried fish. His heart beat like a drum, expecting something to go wrong finally.

But, the stilted silence remained as Harry fought with his trepidation in Filch’s office. It was no different than he remembered – a gloomy, windowless room with a single oil lamp hanging from above.

The ruddy light of the torches from the hallways barely illuminated the insides, but it was enough. Harry ignored the moth-eaten chair and Filch’s carefully polished chains and manacles, making his way to the wooden cabinet.

“Alohomora!”

A dull click was heard, but the cabinet door did not budge, eliciting a few curses from Harry. It seems it had been enchanted against unlocking charms, quite possibly to ward any attempts to break in from the Weasley twins. He had not taken anything to do the muggle method of lockpicking either.

Dispelling the enchantment didn’t work, which meant it required a personalised counter-spell. Harry groaned and spun his wand in a choppy motion, ending with a sharp jab at the keyhole, “Terebro!”

The yew wand belched a weak, pale spell instead of a piercing curse, but it went straight into the lock, rattling the whole cabinet. It was an advanced curse that would usually be covered in the final years of DADA, and it was no wonder that Harry struggled even to produce the spell – his control and magic were both not enough. Still, casting it three more times at point-blank range broke the lock, and the door swung open.

Trying to suppress his excitement, he carefully rummaged through the rafters, wary of any malicious or pranking items and a few minutes later, he finally found the folded piece of yellow worn parchment.

He carefully unfolded it once and tapped with the wand, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

The ink lines began to spill from the tip of his wand familiarly, forming great, curly green words.

Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs – Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present THE MARAUDER’s MAP!

Finally, finally something was going according to his plans, albeit with a few hiccups. But the relief also stemmed from the familiar piece of parchment – it was exactly the same! And his current success did not involve a gruesome amount of mind-numbing practice for a change.

Resisting the urge to dance a victory jig or just sit in Filch’s office and scour every inch of the map for Pettigrew, Harry tapped the map with his wand again, “Mischief Managed.”

Fully folded, the map was carefully deposited in his robes, and Harry turned to the cabinet’s broken lock, the only proof left from his rendezvous here. Hopefully, a few repairing charms would do the trick, and Filch wouldn’t even notice anyone had been here.

Diana looked at Harry’s somehow tense back with concern. It was the first time she had seen the boy in such a mood, even less so during a celebration like now.

Slowly, she found herself glancing questioningly at Juno.

The taller girl leaned over slightly, “Today’s the anniversary of that day.”

The quiet murmur was almost lost in the commotion of the surrounding students. Like Harry, Juno seemed more content to observe and rarely said anything.

“That day?” Diana echoed in confusion.

“The Dark Lord and Harry’s parents perished ten years ago on this night.”

The words took the air out of her sails quickly, and next to her, Padma grimaced. Diana had almost forgotten why Harry was famous. The thought of everyone celebrating while someone was grieving the loss of his family was jarring. It was little wonder why he chose to take a serene walk without the hustle and bustle of the feast…

“Why’s everyone calling that Voldemort guy Dark Lord or You-Know-Who?”

Her attempt to steer the topic away was met with a few winces, shudders, and glares from the nearby students. Even the usually calm Padma flinched. That only confused Diana further – why were people so afraid of some wizard who died a decade ago?

“He was a particularly vile sorcerer,” Juno replied after a thoughtful pause, although it was barely more than a whisper, and Diana had to huddle closer to the tall girl to hear clearly. “Any dark deed you can imagine? He has done that and far more. But the Dark Lord is so feared because of his cruelty, prowess, and the taboo on his name.”

Juno’s lips were in disgust for a short, fleeting moment when she said dark lord, making Diana wonder what her beef with the Voldemort fellow was, although he seemed like a nasty piece of work.

Thankfully, he was long dead.

“What’s that?” Boot, who seemed to be listening with rapt attention, chimed in curiously.

“A powerful divination charm, which alerted his forces every time the Dark Lord’s name was uttered. Anyone brave enough to speak it has simply perished unless they were strong enough to survive either the Dark Lord himself or his bloodthirsty followers.”

Any further talks on the bleak topic were thankfully interrupted by the arrival of the food – all the golden plates were laden heavy with whatever courses your mind could think of.

Diana grabbed a generous serving of fish fingers and shepherd’s pie and began eating. Her thoughts, however, drifted to that violent day three weeks ago. Such a sudden onslaught of savagery had come like lightning out of the blue – Diana knew children could be cruel, but…

Aside from Harry, nobody seemed particularly concerned with the bloody event in question – and maybe they were right. Lo and behold, Juno was hale and hearty, not even three days later. Magic was amazing, and it seemed that there was nothing that it couldn’t do. After all, if the problem could be fixed without much trouble so quickly, it wasn’t much of a problem, was it?

Although there seemed to be some newfound tension between the four houses after this event, Gryffindor appeared to bear the brunt. The teachers were not doing anything about it either.

It was an eye-opening difference, and Diana finally realised that magic and muggle Britain were utterly different places despite sharing the same location. Still, the whole thing was jarring, and Diana put more effort and attention into the DADA lessons than before.

That was far from the only change – Juno had tentatively joined their group ever since, along with the usually silent MacDougal. Diana was unsure what to think of the tall, elegant girl – she was polite enough and no longer as distant as before. But… Juno was so unfairly tall that Diana couldn’t help but feel envious without even looking at other things like talent in magic.

To be completely honest, she was just annoyed. Harry was a great, genuine boy and Diana’s first true friend. She had known it was only a matter of time until more people approached him, but that didn’t lessen Diana’s annoyance in the slightest.

An errant glance at the staff table told her that Harry was not the only one absent – Professor Snape also seemed to be missing, but she wasn’t sure if he had just left at some point or never come in the first place.

She was just helping herself to a slice of delicious pear pie when an older Slytherin student dashed into the Great Hall, face twisted in horror. A prefect badge was proudly pinned to his robes, and everyone watched as he reached the staff table, eyes darting uneasily and heavily gasping, “Troll in the dungeons!”

And just like that, he slumped on the floor, unmoving, and Diana wasn’t sure if it was from exhaustion or just fright.

The words drove the Great Hall into an uproar, but the deafening sound of cannon blast instantly silenced the commotion and left Diana’s ear ringing.

Everyone looked at Dumbledore, who calmly lowered his wand. “Prefects,” gone was his jovial voice, replaced by a dangerous rumble, “lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately! Teachers, with me!”

Penelope and some seventh-year prefect began herding the easy Ravenclaws together, and Diana found herself walking next to Juno.

“Do trolls come into the castle often?” She asked as they waddled through the crowd towards the Hall’s entrance. Everyone seemed in a rush to leave as quickly as possible, thickening at the doors.

“It shouldn’t be a thing,” Juno sneered. “Unless Peeves let the troll in somehow. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if it were the latest bright idea from the Weasley twins.”

Ah, the nasty poltergeist or the two red-haired menaces that loved to throw dung bombs around and make lives difficult. The only difference between the Weasley twins and Peeves was that the former could be detained. Diana remembered how half of Ravenclaw ended up with bright red and gold hair during breakfast two weeks ago, forcing the eagles to walk in Gryffindor colours until a seventh-year prefect managed to reverse it at lunch.

Just as everyone began grouping up towards different hallways, Diana paled and tugged on Juno’s sleeve, only for her to spin at her, wand drawn and cold eyes promising violence. The girl was over a head taller than her, and Diana couldn’t help but feel quite intimidated.

“I’ve just thought – Harry doesn’t know about the troll!”

The wand was quickly lowered, and Juno grew thoughtful.

“Let’s go tell some prefect or teacher, then.”

The tall girl dived into the crowd daringly, looking for teachers or prefects.

After a tense minute of waddling through the crowd, they found only Edwin Gamp, the laidback fifth-year prefect. The rest seemed to have rushed ahead, and Flitwick was nowhere to be seen.

“Don’t worry much for Potter,” he idly waved away their worries. “Hogwarts is a big castle, and trolls are dumb as bricks. The boy’s probably in the dorms asleep anyway.”

And just like that, Gamp continued up the stairs hurriedly with the rest of the Ravenclaws. Juno and Diana stood still, undecided about what to do.

Diana tried to chase away the terrible image of Harry getting squashed and eaten by some hungry, ugly monster from her mind but couldn’t.

She turned to Juno, anxious, “How dangerous are trolls?”

The raven-haired girl thinned her lips and scowled, “We have to find Harry.”

Very dangerous, then.

“But how? Gamp was not wrong – the castle is enormous, and Harry could be anywhere!”

“We’ll just have to hope he’s around his usual haunts, then.”

Juno turned around and decisively strolled in a different direction. After taking one last look at the Ravencalws, most of whom had disappeared behind the bend of the marble stairwell, Diana cursed quietly and followed after the black-haired girl.

Lamenting the fact that she had only memorised the location of the common room and a handful of classrooms, Diana’s anxiety only grew with every hallway and stairway that they passed through.

Suddenly, the air was heavy with a foul stench – a putrid mix of old socks and those public toilets no one seemed to clean, only worse.

“Hey,” she whispered, trying not to gag. “Do you smell something?”

Juno halted in her tracks, making Diana also freeze.

They heard it then – a rumbling grunt and the heavy yet slow sound of footsteps.

From behind the corner emerged a horrible sight – twelve feet tall with dull grey skin, a great lumpy body like a boulder, and a small head perched on top like a coconut.

Diana thought she was hearing double for a moment, but her eyes told her otherwise. It would be amusing if there weren’t two of them, carrying two crude clubs the size of a grown man and looking curiously at Diana and Juno.

The spell was finally broken, and Diana tried to push down the rising panic. “What do we do now?”

“Run?”

And then they turned around and dashed away into a different hallway. The blind sprint through the hallways quickly had Diana gasping for breath and her limbs feeling heavy, but she mustered all her energy because the heavy footsteps kept rumbling behind them ominously.

Just as she began to lag behind Juno, the black-haired girl halted.

“Why stop?” she eked out breathlessly.

“I took the wrong turn,” Juno nodded at the bottom of the hallway that ended with an old tapestry.

Sure enough, the two trolls showed up from around the corner, making Diana choke at the stench, but that was one of her smallest problems right now, as the realisation began to sink in.

They were trapped, and entering one of the abandoned classrooms nearby wouldn’t change the fact.

The trolls slowly approached, drool dripping from their dumb, blotchy mouths as the two girls slowly backed towards the dead end.

“How does one fight a troll?” Diana gulped, clutching the wand in her arm.

“Their hide is thick and near impervious to magic,” Juno scowled and waved her wand, “Wingardium Leviosa!”

One of the clubs flew into the air, and both trolls halted, curiously looking at the piece of wood above them. The second one gave a toothy smile and smacked the enormous cudgel with his club, making it crash into the wall loudly, leaving splinters of various sizes all over the floor.

Both trolls began scratching their heads and looking around.

Steeling herself, Diana decided to try her luck and aimed at the second club, “Wingardium Leviousa!”

But her spell either didn’t work or was not strong enough because the cudgel remained in the troll’s hand. Her cry attracted the unwanted attention of the two trolls, who now continued to approach ominously.

The monstrous duo were clumsy and cumbersome in their steps, but side by side, they blocked the hallway almost entirely, and she knew that the hulking, graceless movements were deceiving as the trolls easily kept up with their mad dash earlier.

As Diana’s heart began to beat desperately like a drum and Juno began to mumble some long incantation while weaving a complex wand motion –

“Oy, you plonkers!” The angry cry halted both the girls and the trolls, and never had the muggle-born girl been so glad to hear this voice.

At the other end of the hallway stood Harry, his emerald eyes blazing like two small fires, his wand drawn. Diana had never seen him so furious, but his bellow grabbed the troll’s attention as they wheeled around clumsily to face him.

Then, Harry moved, and his wand twirled so fast it became a blur, “Conmutocus, Engorgio, Wingardium Leviosa, Flipendo!”

“Duck,” Juno dragged her down towards the floor, and Diana would have questioned her why when the splinters behind the trolls turned into enormous needles of varying sizes before turning even bigger. Her mind stilled when all the needles levitated in the air for a heartbeat, and then a veritable rain of steel was launched at the trolls.

A series of sickening squelches merged with the clinking sounds of steel meeting stone, and a second later, both trolls fell together backwards with loud thuds that made the hallway tremble.

Cracking her eyes open, Diana saw the monsters on the floor, still and unmoving, and her gaze moved upwards. There were many enormous needles deeply embedded into the ceiling or walls. Although they looked more like metal spears and arrows than needles…

Diana got to her feet numbly and almost puked at the sight – pools of dark, acrid blue seeped from the enormous corpses, and the smell got worse as if rotten eggs had been added into the unpleasant mix.

That turned out to be the final straw, and Diana heaved over and released the contents of her stomach on the floor. She was not the only one – Juno joined her, expelling the dinner onto the ground.

“Urgh,” Diana could only groan as she wiped away the tears that had pooled in her eyes as she stood up shakily, the bitter taste of bile heavy on her tongue. Her heart was still hammering furiously as if trying to escape her ribcage; all of her limbs felt weak, and she was out of breath.

“Let’s get out of here,” Juno rasped with a grimace as she stood up, and Diana could only muster a nod.

They quickly passed the trolls, trying not to look at the grisly sight.

Harry, however, looked worse than them – he was slumped by the wall, brow covered with thick beads of sweat and looked like he would keel over and die. The two girls quickly made their way to their friend.

The sudden footsteps made all three of them whip their heads towards the corner – it was not a surprise; the loud racket definitely should have attracted some attention.

A moment later, Professor Flitwick showed up, wand glowing baleful purple. Diana had never seen the kind Charms master so furious. His steely gaze roamed over the hallway behind them, inspecting the carnage before settling on the three of them.

“Mr Potter,” Flitwick’s voice was emotionless. “What happened here?”

“Found the two of them cornered by the troll, professor, and,” Harry weakly waved at the two carcasses.

The charm’s master face softened, and he waved his wand; all the embedded needles were drawn out from the stone and reversed back into wooden splinters in all shapes and sizes. He nodded to himself, and then his inquisitive gaze turned to Diana and Juno. “And what were the two of you doing here?”

“Searching for Harry, sir,” Juno’s voice turned silky. “He decided to skip the feast and didn’t know about the troll.”

“You should have turned to the prefects or the teachers in that case,” Flitwick said gently, but his voice had a sliver of reproach.

“Well, er, we did, sir,” Diana added hastily. “We looked for a teacher but couldn’t find any, and Prefect Gamp told us not to worry.”

For a moment so short she could have been imagining things, Flitwick’s expression turned thunderous before mellowing out. “I see. Fifteen points to each of you for a splendid show of loyalty. And Mr Potter, take another twenty points for wit, daring, and valour!”

“We’re not in trouble?” Diana couldn’t help but blink in confusion as her friends stood there stunned.

“Oh no, not at all,” the diminutive professor reassured them with a gentle smile. “I will have a word with Mr Gamp later, of course, but you three did nothing wrong. Return to the common room now – Mr Potter looks like he’s in dire need of rest.”

Harry looked dead on his feet as they made their way towards the Ravenclaw dormitories, but their pace was almost as slow as a turtle – they weren’t in a hurry.

“Want some help, Harry?” Diana offered with concern.

“Thanks, but I’m fine,” the boy chuckled despite dragging his feet as if they were made out of lead. “The magic took much more out of me than I thought.”

“Any more, and you’d have magic exhaustion,” Juno noted. There was a gleam in her eyes that Diana couldn’t decipher.

“I… thank you for coming to look for me,” Harry looked quite guilty.

“No need,” Juno imperiously waved away the concern, although the vomit on her robe and her now splattered, dishevelled hair ruined her usual haughty visage. “That’s what friends are for. Isn’t that right, Taylor?”

Diana was too tired to say anything and could only nod in agreement. For a short moment, Harry seemed like he would say something, but the words never left his tongue, and he sighed with a soft nod.

Just as they were climbing the grand staircase, they were waylaid by a worried group of Ravenclaw prefects led by Penelope Clearwater. Gamp was there, too, looking quite guilty.

“Where have the three of you been!?” She was almost shouting. “We turned up in the common room, only to count the students and find three missing!”

“And Clearwater here decided to draft us into finding you,” a seventh-year prefect snorted. “Glad to see you are well.”

“Just peachy,” Diana snorted, but a feeling of warmth seeped within her at the sight of the older years. One lazily waved his wand, turning their nearly ruined robes pristine again.

It had been a stormy evening, but from that moment on, the muggle-born girl had earned herself one more friend and could not help but feel a sense of belonging towards this odd, new world. Tall or not, facing a pair of man-eating monsters nearly thrice your height together made it hard for Diana to hold anything but goodwill towards Juno.