The next morning, Carina, relieved that there was no visible damage to the room, returned to her dormitory, quiet as a mouse. The other girls were fast asleep, Pansy lightly snoring and Tracey mumbling about someone named Blaise. Careful not to make a sound, she dressed at top speed and gathered her books before heading down to the Great Hall. The Slytherin table was empty, aside from a few older students who ignored her completely.
Unlike the night before, they did not enchant any of the bowls to slide away. Her stomach growling, she scooped food onto her plate.
"Cari."
Harry sat beside her, concern etched all across his face. Thankful to see him alive and in one piece, she hugged him.
"What were you thinking?" she asked, smacking his arm with her spoon. "I looked for you on the train but you weren't there. I thought something really bad happened and Snape wouldn't tell me much. Why would you take Mr. Weasley's car? You're not even old enough to drive."
He explained how he and the Weasleys had been running late to the station. With just a couple minutes to spare, he and Ron followed the others through the brick wall when it unexpectedly became solid, knocking them to the ground. Panicking over missing the train, Harry suggested waiting for Ron's parents by the car, which led to Ron's idea to fly the car to Hogwarts.
Carina nearly lost her mind when he told her about the car landing in a moving tree, the Whomping Willow. It tossed them around, causing Ron's wand to almost break in half, but aside from a few scrapes, they were unharmed. Lowering his eyes, he admitted that it was not the brightest idea.
"We're lucky we weren't expelled, honestly. Ron and I just have a detention and McGonagall is writing to the Dursleys," he said, waving his hand as if it was nothing. "Enough about me. I wanted to come by last night but I don't know where the Slytherin common room is or how to get in. We should find Dumbledore."
"For what?"
More students entered the Great Hall, stifling yawns and rubbing at their eyes. Passing Slytherins glared at Harry, which he returned with equal loathing, before sitting at the far end of the tableb. Turning back towards her, his glare faded, looking at her once again with worry.
"Someone must've messed with the hat as a joke. You can't be in Slytherin. You're muggleborn and you're nothing like them. We can ask Dumbledore to check the hat and when he reverses whatever jinx is on it, it'll put you in the right house."
"They're not all bad," she said, quietly. "Gemma's nice and so is Tracey, one of the girls in my room."
"Two out of an entire house? I stand corrected, then," he replied, his sarcasm blatant. "Hermione told me what those gits did to you last night at the feast. Look at them now. They're treating you like some leper. Wouldn't you rather be in Gryffindor?"
"Maybe I wouldn't get into Gryffindor though."
He chuckled, assuming it was a joke. "Well, if that somehow happened, anything would be better than Slytherin."
"I don't care what they think. It doesn't bother me. Besides, if the hat was jinxed, Dumbledore would've said something last night and the hat itself said it put me here for a reason."
"It's a hat! What does it know?"
Though she understood his concern, she was resolute in her decision. She would no doubt have an easier time in any of the other houses but if everyone else trusted the hat, she would too, as strange as that sounded. His long tirade against the Slytherins was interrupted by Tracey sitting across from her.
She greeted them with a yawn as she grabbed two chocolate chip muffins.
"Wicked story about the car, Harry. Everyone was talking about it last night."
Carina stepped on his foot. Not bothering to even look at Tracey, he gave a feeble wave. It was no wonder Slytherin and Gryffindor had such a longstanding rivalry. Neither house seemed willing to give the other a chance. Insisting the conversation was not over, he returned to the Gryffindor table, sitting between Ron and that round-faced boy.
"Honestly, I don't blame him," said Tracey, after hearing Harry's wild theory. "He's worried about you. It's not like he can protect you all the way from Gryffindor tower. Plus he knows firsthand how bad they—Blaise!"
Tracey knocked the plate of muffins under the table. The reason behind her strange actions arrived, in the form of a handsome, dark-skinned boy with high cheekbones. She twirled her hair around her finger, adding extra curl to her ponytail. Remembering her dreamy mutterings, Carina quickly put two and two together, hiding her smile behind a glass of water.
"Did you have a good summer?"
"Not terrible," he replied, with a shrug. "My mother's boyfriend took us to the Caribbean. We'll see how long this one lasts."
"Hopefully, she'll have better luck. I uh saved you a muffin."
The muffin whizzed out of her hand. Another boy, the one Gemma referred to as Pucey, caught it in mid-air. His mouth full, he thanked an irked Tracey, among sniggers from his friends. Hidden behind the older Slytherins were the other second years, Pansy practically latched to Draco's side.
"Aw, look at Davis, making friends with the animals," said Flint, the tall, trollish boy. "Look at this, boys. A ratty backpack for the little rat."
Behind her, Ron and Hermione were struggling to keep Harry in his seat. Flint grinned, revealing a set of uneven teeth.
"What sort of muggle junk do you got in there, Evans? You won't mind if we take a peek. Let's s—"
His dirt-stained fingers had barely touched a strap when her hand slammed down over his, holding the backpack in a vice grip. Gemma pushed through the small crowd of Slytherins. Taking out her wand, she threatened to hex him.
"Defending muggleborns now, Farley? You really are pathetic. What would your mommy and daddy think if they saw—shit!"
Carina's grip tightened, like a boa constrictor squeezing its prey, her nails digging into his pale skin.
"Let go of my bag," she said, her voice a hint above a whisper.
"Or what?" he challenged, hardly frightened. "Are you gonna go crying to Snape? Tell Potter to beat me up? I'm shaking."
"I'll take my wand and shove it so far up your backside that you cough up wood chips."
All chattering ceased, the other students more interested in the silent staring contest between her and Flint. Their eyes darted from his stunned confusion to her icy glare.
"What did you just say to me, Evans?"
"Or maybe I'll just shove it in your eye and out the back of your skull."
He leaned dangerously close to her face. "You better think twice before talking to me like that," he hissed. "Your cousin might be the school's golden boy but if you disappear, no one would care."
"What is going on here?"
Flint immediately retracted his hand, tiny indents between his knuckles. His friends parted like the red sea as Snape walked towards the table. When they all failed to explain the situation, even Gemma, he looked over at Flint, who was feigning innocence.
"I was just getting to know our newest Slytherin, sir. Offered her some tips for her first day."
"Quite generous of you, Mr. Flint. If that is the case, why is Miss Evans currently burning a hole through your head?"
He gently gripped her chin, his gaze locked with hers. Carina knew exactly what he was searching for and Flint's attempts to defend himself ("Sir, I swear I didn't hex her. The others can back me up.") were silenced by him raising a single finger in the air.
"I believe that's enough advice for today. I suggest you take your seat, preferably at a considerable distance from Miss Evans."
Sneering at Carina, he signaled for his friends to follow him. "In the future, Evans, don't engage in his taunts. I find simply ignoring their childish remarks to be an effective tool." Two pieces of parchment appeared in his hand. "Your course schedules. I advise you to be on time."
Snape continued along the table, handing out schedules. As Carina returned to her plate, feeling a thousand eyes on her, she chanced a glance at Tracey.
"That was either the most insane or most amazing thing I've ever seen." To her surprise, Tracey giggled. "Did you see their faces? I've never seen Flint shut up so fast."
Carina bit her bottom lip. "I'm kind of…sensitive about the bag. It belonged to my parents so I don't like other people touching it. I know it's weird—"
"No, don't apologize," she said, pouring herself a glass of pumpkin juice. "I want that image burned in my brain forever. Seriously, you are my hero."
She was saved from being the center of gossip, thanks to hundreds of owls circling the four tables. The last time she had seen this many owls was last year, when Hogwarts attempted to send Harry his letter through all sorts of unconventional means. Amazed by the sight, she watched the owls deliver letters and packages to the other students.
A tiny saw-whet owl, belonging to the Fawleys, landed in front of her, hooting excitedly. She stroked the top of its head.
"Hi Speedy."
Tipping her glass into an empty owl, she let Speedy take some sips as she untied the package from its leg. Inside was a collection of sweets and brownies, pictures of Carina, Olivia, and their friends from the past summer, and a small, square mirror, a note in Seth's handwriting attached to the back.
In case you ever need someone to talk to. Just say my name.
Ron, to his dismay, received something worse: a howler, according to Tracey. Carina was about to ask her about it but her voice was swiftly by the roar of Mrs. Weasley's voice. She reprimanded him for stealing the car, his father now facing an inquiry at work about the matter. Though the other students soon forgot about the howler, laughing for a few minutes, Ron spent the rest of breakfast hidden, only his vivid red hair visible.
Together, she and Tracey headed upstairs to Transfiguration, eating the brownies. Mrs. Fawley had a talent for baking, making her very popular at school events. Crabbe and Goyle eyed the brownies with interest. Despite Tracey's warning ("They'll eat all of them in one bite"), she held out the box.
"You can have one," she offered.
"One," repeated Tracey.
Before either of them could lift a finger, Draco smacked the box out of her hand. She retrieved it with a flick of her wand, placing it inside her backpack.
"They don't want anything from you, Evans," he said, rudely. "Snape's not here now to save you so let's be clear. You may have somehow been sorted into Slytherin but you don't belong there or this school. You have as much right to be here as my house elf."
The door swung open and he roughly pushed her to enter the classroom. As Crabbe and Goyle passed her, she flicked her wand under her sleeve. She suppressed a smile when brownies appeared in their hands. They inhaled them like a pair of vacuums to avoid Draco's scrutiny.
Professor McGonagall spent the first half of the lesson discussing the importance of precise wandwork and reviewing lessons from the previous year. Carina, wanting to make a good impression, wrote everything down in case it was part of an exam or McGonagall was prone to pop quizzes. No one else seemed half as invested in the lesson.
Pansy and her clique were reading copies of Witch Weekly under their desks, sneaking glances at a bored Draco, who was discussing quidditch with a stringy boy named Theodore Nott. Tracey was staring dreamily at Blaise, who showed more interest in the bird flying by the window, and Crabbe and Goyle had fallen asleep within two minutes.
"Today, we will start with something simple. We will be transforming beetles into coat buttons."
A box of beetles floated by the desks, placing one in front of each student. Daphne scrunched her nose, refusing to look at her beetle.
"Transfiguring a moving object is a bit trickier, as you know from your final exam last year. With the proper concentration and incorporating the previous lessons, you should have no trouble. Mr. Goyle, before you attempt the spell, make sure your wand is pointed at the beetle and not you."
Carina remembered the piece of parchment that accompanied her supply list and acceptance letter. Dumbledore had each of the professors compile their first year curriculums, to help her be on the same level as her peers. It made Carina all the more determined to prove herself, that she belonged at Hogwarts. She had practiced the spell from the final exam in Transfiguration, turning a mouse into a snuffbox, over a dozen times.
Looking around the classroom, it was unnecessary, considering those same peers were struggling with the spell. Daphne gladly let her beetle scurry off the desk and Millicent nearly crushed hers with her wand, to McGonagall's disapproval. Pansy praised Draco, his beetle supposedly looking like a button with legs though from Carina's perspective, it was just resting.
Tracey resorted to poking the beetle with her wand, in hopes it would magically transform by itself. Carina was confident in her ability to cast the spell, that same confidence plummeting the moment she lifted her wand. Casting this sort of spell was much different from levitating a box of brownies or lighting her wand tip.
"Miss Davis, the beetle cannot understand you," said McGonagall, exasperated. "Miss Evans, do you need more instruction on this spell?"
"No," she replied, avoiding her gaze. "Your instructions were very clear."
"Then please attempt it. You are not here to sit and do nothing."
Taking a deep breath, Carina tapped her wand on the beetle, whispering the incantation. A white light shined from the tip and seconds later, the beetle was replaced by a shiny black button.
"Excellent, Miss Evans," said McGonagall, very pleased. "It appears at least one of you paid attention. Ten points to Slytherin."
"Please, it was just luck," Draco muttered under his breath.
"You believe so, Mr. Malfoy? Shall we test your theory?"
McGonagall conjured another beetle. With another tap of Carina's wand, her desk now had two buttons.
"Take another ten points, dear. I see your beetle remains unchanged, Mr. Malfoy. Perhaps you could learn a thing or two from Miss Evans."
Draco remained silent, a pink tinge in his pale cheeks. By the end of the lesson, Carina had enough buttons to open up her own stand and, with her help, Tracey managed to almost get it right. She placed her button-beetle hybrid back in the box, among the other partially transfigured and smushed beetles.
Herbology, shared with the Ravenclaws, proved to be a bit more of a challenge. Instead of casting spells, they were working with mandrakes, or muddy, wrinkly plant babies as Tracey dubbed them. It was a bit unsettling that a single cry could knock them unconscious for hours. With earmuffs firmly over her ears, she shared a tray with Tracey and two Ravenclaw girls named Padma Patil and Lisa Turpin.
Aside from the copious amounts of dirt and risk of mandrake bites, the class provided her with the opportunity to make friends outside of Slytherin. The Ravenclaws treated her like a regular person, not some diseased animal.
Between potting mandrakes, she and Lisa discussed the choir. Lisa was excited about the auditions, having been turned down last year because of a rule prohibiting first years from joining clubs. The professors believed that it was better for the new students to focus on adjusting to their new surroundings instead of taking on too much at once.
"Flitwick's in charge of the choir. He judges the auditions with the two leads."
"Two? I thought Gemma was the lead."
"Yep, her and Ken Towler. That's another perk, being in the same room as him."
Lisa's remark caused Tracey and Padma to dissolve into a fit of giggles. He was apparently a very talented singer and one of the reasons attendance rose for auditions. His mother used to be in the choir herself and after graduation, she spent years on tour with Celestina Warbeck, a famous singer.
"It used to be kind of boring. They would just sing these old classical songs from centuries ago."
"But then a few years ago, when kids like Gemma joined, they knew wizards from other schools and saw their choirs were a bit more modern," explained Padma, keeping a mandrake at arm's length. "Now the choir sings in Hogsmeade and during the holidays. They do competitions against the other schools too."
"Wow, that sounds fun," said Carina, reminded of her old school. "I'll have to wait until next year but I'll be there to support you, Lisa. I bet you're great."
Tracey frowned. "Why? You're not a first year."
"Snape said technically, I am so he thinks it's best if I don't join any clubs. He said I need time to get used to everything."
When Carina first heard about the choir from Hermione discussing the various clubs, she had been looking forward to the auditions. Art and music always comforted her, something she shared with her mother. Ever since she was a little girl, she had been part of the choir and drama club at school, feeling truly at peace when she was on a stage. Her hopes were dashed when Snape showed her around the castle and though his true reasons were valid, it frustrated her.
"That's a load of dung." Tracey lowered her voice as Professor Sprout passed by with more pots. "You did better than everyone in Transfiguration and you said you practiced with the Fawleys all summer. I'm sure Gemma could talk to him."
Halfway through lunch, tired of the death glares from her fellow Slytherins, she decided to join Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the courtyard. Harry, who had been a bundle of nerves since the incident at breakfast, was relieved to hear that Draco and his so-called lackeys had not harmed her. In between drawing in her sketchpad, she listened to two very different conversations about quidditch and Lockhart's first lesson.
"I wonder what he'll teach us first," said Hermione, nose buried in Voyages with Vampires. "He's encountered so many interesting creatures. It'll be fascinating to hear his firsthand accounts."
"Yeah, I'm excited for his class."
Ron groaned. "Carina, not you too."
"Well, it's like Hermione says. He's been to all kinds of places. If he didn't know what he's talking about, why would Dumbledore hire him?"
"Girls," he muttered to Harry.
As she showed off her finished drawing of the castle, she spotted Colin hiding behind a gargoyle statue. He was staring at Harry mesmerized, a camera dangling around his neck. Trembling with excitement, he introduced himself to Harry and asked if he could take a photo. Being muggleborn, he wanted to send lots of photos home to his family.
Carina knew that Harry was sometimes treated more like a zoo attraction, people always goggling at his scar. He never asked for the attention or fame, having it all just thrust upon him, though she doubted anyone ever wanted his autograph.
"Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos, Potter?"
Draco, flanked as usual by Crabbe and Goyle, entered the courtyard, stopping right behind Colin. Harry's fists clenched as his blonde rival announced for everyone to line up for a chance at a signed photo. Sensing that her cousin was seconds from throwing a punch, she gripped his arm.
"Don't."
His animosity towards Draco now made sense. Since officially meeting him, she only heard him rude and nasty things out of his mouth. Though he brushed off Colin's suggestion of jealousy, she knew some part of it must be true. He seemed to enjoy being the center of attention.
"Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter. It'd be worth more than his family's whole house."
"Why are you so rude?" asked Carina, stopping Ron from raising his broken wand. "Are you physically incapable of not being a jerk?"
His pale grey eyes flashed in her direction. "Careful, Evans. Snape isn't here to save you this time."
"Considering what I saw this morning, I wouldn't need his help. You're about as good at magic as my cat," she retorted, throwing one of his earlier insults back at him.
"You little—"
Lockhart suddenly arrived in the courtyard, as if summoned by the words 'signed photos'. Pinning Harry to his side, he offered Colin a double photo, ignoring Harry's own discomfort. As Colin eagerly snapped the photo, Draco, throwing a glare at Carina, disappeared into the crowd.
As the bell rang, Harry was practically dragged into the castle by a jovial Lockhart. Carina did not see him again until she entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, portraits of their professor covering every inch of the walls. He was sitting in the back, his books piled high to hide his face. She waved at him before joining Tracey at a desk.
"What happened between you and Draco?" Carina tensed up as she placed her backpack on the floor. "He was muttering about you to Blaise and Theo. All I got was 'that pipsqueak needs to keep her mouth shut'."
"He was being mean to Harry when we were out in the courtyard. It wasn't a big deal. I don't know why—"
Daphne greeted them in her usual bubbly manner, sitting beside Carina. Tracey, just as confused, questioned if it was part of some joke concocted by a bitter Draco.
"My mom really wants me to do better in classes this year. She said if I don't boost my grades, she'll leave me here for the holidays instead of going on the family vacation. Carina was amazing in Transfiguration so I figure sitting by her will rub off on me."
"Is Pansy okay with that?"
"I'm more scared of my mom than her."
Lockhart cleared his throat loudly, silencing the room. Leaning forward, he picked up a copy of Travels with Trolls from one of the desks. He pointed at his own face on the cover.
"Me. Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"
Several girls swooned at his smile. Even Hermione was leaning her hand against her cheek, admiring the handsome professor. Carina never heard someone brag about themselves this much in their life. Clearing his throat again, he announced the lesson would begin with a quiz about his books.
Glancing down at the first sheet, she assumed it would be a quiz on how he handled certain creatures or where to find them. She blinked a few times, unsure if she was hallucinating. Instead of spells and creatures, all the questions were about him, from his favorite color to his ideal birthday gift.
After finishing the quiz, Lockhart sat at his desk, rifling through the papers. He lamented that most did rather poorly, only giving the occasional praise to students like Hermione knowing his secret ambition.
"In fact, full marks! One of only two in the class, I see. Where are Miss Hermione Granger and Miss Carina Evans?"
Hermione raised her trembling hand. Carina slid down in her chair, not wanting the recognition. The only reason she did well on that superficial quiz was because she refused to willingly get a bad grade. At Tracey's insistence, she halfheartedly lifted her hand.
"Excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor and Slytherin!"
A pair of squeals filled her ears when he winked at her and Hermione. Carina's high hopes for Lockhart and his teachings were severely lowered with each passing minute. She did not see the connection between the courageous wizard who fought dangerous creatures like vampires and werewolves and the pompous man with a planet-sized ego.
"Now—be warned!"
The large, cloth covered cage on his desk rattled, nearly teetering off the edge. Carina gripped the edge of her seat while others attempted to get a better look.
"It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind. You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."
Holding his wand, he ripped the cover off the cage. Inside were tiny bright blue creatures with wings and pointed faces. He called them Cornish pixies. Tracey released a shaky breath, clearly expecting much worse.
The Gryffindor boy to her right openly laughed, to Lockhart's amusement. Like him, Carina did not think the pixies were dangerous. They were just making funny faces at the second years and bouncing off the sides of the cage.
"Don't be so sure," Lockhart told the Irish boy, wagging his finger. "Devilishly tricky little blighters they can be. Let's see what you make of them!"
The moment he unlocked the cage, the pixies burst forth like rockets, zooming in every direction. It was all out chaos as some shot through the back window, spraying glass over the floor, and the rest began to destroy the classroom. The pixies were pelting students with ink bottles and books and tearing Lockhart's precious portraits off the walls.
Carina waited for Lockhart to stop the pixies, who had seized the round-faced Gryffindor boy by his ears and placed the back of his robes on the iron chandelier, but he merely encouraged his students to catch the destructive creatures themselves. Most of the students resorted to hiding under their desks.
Carina flicked her wand at a pixie tormenting a Hufflepuff girl with pigtails. It froze in mid-air then floated back into the cage.
"Good work, Miss Evans. Just what I would've done. I'll round up the rest, shall I? Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"
His spell, which honestly sounded fake, had no effect. He dove under his own desk as the chandelier fell from the ceiling. Carina froze the Gryffindor boy before he landed flat on his face, gently guiding him to the floor. Hearing the bell over the shrill shrieking, the class, including Lockhart, sped out of the room. Carina, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the dizzy Gryffindor boy were left alone with the pixies.
"He shut the door," said Carina, staring at the wooden door in disbelief. "Did he just—he's the teacher and he shut the door! He left us in here!"
"He just wants to give us some hands-on experience," argued Hermione. She cast the same freezing charm on two pixies, returning them to the cage. "We can handle it, Carina."
Harry jumped, reaching for a pixie above his head. "Hands-on?" he asked, incredulously. "Hermione, he didn't have a clue what he was doing."
"Rubbish. You've read his books…look at all those amazing things he's done."
"He says he's done," muttered Ron, smacking a pixie away with a book.
As they struggled to freeze the lightning fast pixies, Carina's hand felt extremely warm. The tip of her wand glowed bright red. Feeling as if something else was controlling her, she waved her wand in a counterclockwise motion. A wave of red light washed over the entire room and the remaining pixies were thrust back into the cage, the lock sealed shut.
"Bloody hell. Nice one, Cari," said Ron, impressed.
She jumped when Harry waved his hand in front of her face. Hermione and Ron were helping the other boy, named Neville, getting him back on his feet.
"Where'd you learn that?"
"From one of Seth's lessons," she said, sticking her wand inside her robes.
"Well, good thing you remembered it." He placed his hand on her shoulder. "You all right, Cari? You looked weird for a second…like your mind was somewhere else."
"Yeah, just—I can't believe someone like that is our teacher."
Grabbing her backpack, she headed back to the dungeons. Her first thought was to check on Tracey and Daphne until she passed Snape's office. She wrestled with herself for several minutes before turning on her heel. Just as she raised her fist, she heard two distinct voices, one sounding impatient.
"It is for the best, Severus. That knowledge alone could undo all that hard work."
"Is that certainty or hope? How long can we expect to keep it secret? What little control is hanging on quite the feeble thread."
She knocked on the door lightly. It swung open, revealing Snape and Dumbledore in the room, their faces partially in shadow.
"I—I can come back later, professor."
"It's no trouble, Miss Evans," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling beneath his half-moon spectacles. "I trust your first day has gone well?"
"Pretty much, except for the pixie attack in Lockhart's classroom. Hermione and I got them all back in the cage but the room is kind of a mess. I was just here for a potion, professor."
"Did you have an incident?"
It was difficult to see in the dimly lit office but Snape almost looked concerned. Carina shook her head, waiting for him to open the wooden chest.
"No, it's just a precaution. If I was ever nervous, Mrs. Fawley would let me take it." She took a sip from the vial. "This tastes different. Hers are usually bitter."
"Too much leech juice, I expect. As I told you, I'm a bit more knowledgeable in these matters."
"Is something else on your mind, Miss Evans? You seem troubled."
The way Dumbledore gazed at her, she wondered if he could read her thoughts. She rubbed the back of her neck, anxious to speak her mind.
"No, sir," she said, knowing it was a complete lie. "Thanks for the potion, professor."
Instead of the Great Hall, she spent dinner in her room, appreciating the silence. One of Lockhart's books, Marauding with Monsters, laid open on her bed. When she first read his books, she expected a grand wizard, not some bumbling fool who could barely handle pixies.
Carina thought Dumbledore hired him for his expertise on her problem, that he was the one Mr. Scamander recommended during her trip to California. Lockhart had written about people with the same affliction, how he risked his life to save a young boy in Brazil, but having met him, it just made her more suspicious of his supposed adventures.
The next two days were not as eventful. She continued to excel in her classes and befriend more of the second years, to the disgust of her fellow Slytherins. Flint had not forgotten their breakfast standoff but any time he attempted to corner her, Gemma or Snape came to her rescue. He seemed to be forming an 'I hate Carina' club with Draco and Pansy.
"Wait, it's just four mistletoe berries," she told Daphne, taking the small pouch. "You don't want to put too many."
"Thanks, Cari. That would've been a disaster."
Daphne had started warming up to her, no longer just using her to boost her own grades. She spoke to her outside of classes, even in front of an angered Pansy, and enjoyed playing with Boots in the common room. At the table in front of them, Pansy quietly mocked her.
For their first Potions lesson, Snape instructed them to brew a 'very simple' forgetfulness potion. He assumed it would require little effort, since it was on their final exam in first year, but that was not the case. While he passed by the Slytherins' cauldrons without comment, he took great pleasure in criticizing the Gryffindors, particularly Harry and Neville.
As Snape reprimanded Lavender for forgetting to stir her potion, which was pale red instead of orange, Draco wrapped his arm around Pansy, telling her about the quidditch tryouts the previous night. She was too enraptured to notice his hand move behind her back, pouring ten drops of lethe water in her cauldron.
The potion simmered, turning dark red. With Snape too busy reducing Neville to tears, Carina hurried around the desk and snatched the bottle of lethe water before shoving Draco to the floor.
"What do you think you're doing, Evans?!"
"Pansy, he was messing with your potion," she explained, holding up the half empty bottle. "I think I know how to fix it. If you just add—"
Pansy looked at Draco like he was some wounded soldier. "Did she hurt you? Get away from us before I hex you, Evans!"
"I'm trying to help you."
"Shut up!"
"P—Pansy," said Elizabeth, her eyes wide.
Both she and Millicent stepped back from the desk. Pansy's potion was beginning to spill over the sides of the cauldron. The last thing Carina remembered was shielding a trembling Pansy as the potion erupted like a miniature volcano.
"Completely irresponsible! A brainless, foolish thing to do!"
Draco had never seen Snape this livid, not even around Potter. His friends were standing on either side of him, keeping their eyes on the floor. It felt like Snape had been lecturing them for hours. What started as a harmless prank led to all of the Slytherin second year girls in the hospital wing with flu-like symptoms and disoriented minds.
The night before, they had been hanging around the common room with some of the older Slytherins. Flint suggested the prank, telling Draco that a few extra drops of lethe water would just produce bubbles. Pansy's cauldron was the easiest to tamper with, especially with her short attention span. One minute, it was bubbling, as Flint said, but then it was far worse.
Immediately dismissing the Gryffindors, he forced Draco and the other boys up to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey went into a panic at the sight of the six unconscious girls. Tracey, who got splashed the least, was the first to wake, suffering from constant sneezing. In between Snape's harsh words, he listened to Pansy whine about her blanket being too rough and a sore throat.
Gemma entered the hospital wing with Flint and Pucey. She rushed over to the beds, helping Madam Pomfrey with a restless Elizabeth.
"Thank you, Miss Farley." His dark eyes rested on Flint. "I assume this is your doing, Mister Flint."
"Me?" he asked, acting clueless. "I don't know what you mean, sir. All Gemma said is that something happened during your potions class."
"Do you take me for a fool? I've already spoken to Miss Davis. She heard your conversation in the common room after dinner, what you told Mister Malfoy about the potion. You may have lacked the talent to join my NEWT level class but even you would know that adding unnecessary ingredients can have disastrous consequences."
"Sir, I—"
"It didn't take very long to figure out this alleged prank. It was intended for Miss Evans."
Flint's jaw tightened. Draco truly felt like a fool, never thinking that this was his payback against Evans.
"When you apply yourself, you can be quite clever. You realized that if she noticed Mister Malfoy's actions, which she undoubtedly would have, then she would have done her best to help Miss Parkinson. She likely would've salvaged the potion if not for Miss Parkinson's stubbornness. You are very lucky that he only added ten extra drops or these girls could have suffered terrible injury."
"Professor, we never—Tracey's confused. We wouldn't—"
"Silence, Pucey. As I said, you are very lucky that this backfired. I will have the antidote prepared later this evening."
Six bells appeared on their beds. "In lieu of detention, you will aid Madam Pomfrey in caring for the girls. Whatever they need, you will provide for them and she will inform me if you choose to shirk your duties. The girls can use these bells to keep your attention."
Gemma and Tracey chose to stay in the hospital wing, trusting the boys as much as a goblin. Draco's eyes kept drifting to the clock in hopes that Snape had brewed the antidote. He was glued to Pansy's side, fluffing her pillow or getting her tissues. Within ten minutes, the boys wanted to throw themselves out the window.
Only Evans remained unconscious. He had heard Madam Pomfrey praise her for taking the full blast of the potion, in her efforts to protect the other girls. Pouring Pansy another glass of water, he watched Towler walk into the hospital wing.
"Hey Gemma. I was on my way to talk to you about tomorrow when I heard what happened. Is C—are they okay?"
"Nothing too bad. Snape said it's like having a really bad flu and some of their heads are a little rattled," she said, stopping Millicent from poking herself in the eye. "They should be better by morning."
"Draco," whined Pansy. "I'm really thirsty."
As she rang the bell, coughing violently into a tissue, Evans sat up straight. She flipped her tattered backpack upside down, pouring its contents onto the bed. Getting on her knees, she opened her Potions book.
"I'm ready, Miss Applewell!" she exclaimed, holding up a squeaky mouse toy. "Bring on the math and be ready to be number two again, Becky!
Evans was completely out of her mind. From the way she spoke, she believed she was in her muggle school. Towler carefully grabbed the mouse toy while Gemma and Tracey piled her belongings, from books and ink bottles to a mirror, onto the table beside her bed.
"Carina, it's me. You're not thinking clearly. We're at Hogwarts, remember?"
Giggling, she tapped his nose. "I know where I am, Harry."
"Let's just get you back in bed, huh? A good night's sleep and you'll be all better."
"It's morning. I don't need to sleep." She turned towards the lamp on the table. "Seth, tell him I'm fine. He always overreacts."
In a split second, she was unconscious. Gemma chucked a pillow at Flint in anger.
"You are such a git, you know that? All she did was tell you to not touch her stuff and you had to mess with her head? Grow up."
"Maybe the little brat should learn her place."
She stopped Towler from rising off the bed. "Ignore him. You know he has the manners of a troll…a troll who should be getting Elizabeth more tissues or I'll tell Snape. So, what's going on with auditions?"
"Oh, spare us all the choir talk. No one cares," said Pucey, ready to gouge out his eyes.
It was Draco's worst nightmare, to be forced to wait on Pansy hand and foot while Gemma went on about the ridiculous choir. Sitting in a chair until the next boring task and half-listening to Blaise, he found his eyes drifting away from the slowly ticking clock and to Evans's bed.
Part of him felt a sick joy in her illness. It irritated him how everyone saw her as little miss perfect, constantly showing off in class and making friends with the other houses. When he learned that she was muggleborn, Potter's cousin no less, he could not believe he thought she was worthy of his attention. He passed off her little stunt in Flourish and Blotts as pure luck, a fluke.
Pansy rang her bell again, complaining about the funny tasting water. Daphne rubbed her temples and cried over the loud noise. She smacked Theodore with a pillow when he attempted to comfort her.
"There's not much we can do, Gemma. Her parents want her to focus on her OWLs. We'll find someone to take her place in the choir."
Evans jumped out of the bed, brushing her hair back. "Is it time for choir already? Don't worry, Miss Mills. Your shining star is here."
"Car—"
Draco lowered the pitcher of water as Evans began to sing, Pansy's whining sounding distant. She was, admittedly, talented, a big voice coming out of the pint-sized blonde. His stomach suddenly felt like it was twisted into a thousand knots.
"There's a blaze of light in every word. It doesn't matter what you heard. The—"
She fell back onto the bed with a dazed expression. Daphne clapped and cheeered between coughs, breaking the silence. Gemma rang one of the bells ("It's still choir, Cari. Time to sing") until Flint knocked it out of her hand.
"Gemma, what the hell? Stop giving us more work."
"I'm trying to listen to my newest recruit. Snape has to let her audition. Forget his stupid rule."
"I'll never say this again but I think Flint is right," said Towler, picking up the bell. "She needs to sleep."
Evans woke up once more, letting out a high-pitched sneeze. "She's fine, Kenny. Cari, it's still choir practice. Let's hear more of that magical voice."
She smushed Gemma's face between her hands. "Shh. How'd you know I have magic? It's supposed to be a secret. You have to whisper it. Don't say it out loud or he'll find me."
"What?" asked Gemma, her smile faltering slightly.
"Shh, you're too loud. He'll hear you. That's bad, bad, bad."
Madam Pomfrey bustled out of her office. She shooed them away, thinking they caused more harm than good, despite Gemma's pleas. As he passed by Evans, who was cuddling her pillow and mumbling to herself, he thought he saw something moving inside her mirror.