When Carina finally regained consciousness, feeling like a house fell on her, she was not on the floor of the Potions classroom, but in the hospital wing. Dumbledore, standing at the end of her bed, informed her that the potion had affected her and the other Slytherin girls, though she suffered the worst, acting very disoriented. Though she feared what had happened in her unconscious state, he assured her that her classmates were unharmed.
Professor Snape easily brewed the antidote to counter the effects. Instead of letting her leave that night with the others, he gave her a powerful sleeping draught, as a precaution. He consulted with Dumbledore, who agreed that it was the safest method to ensure a full recovery.
When she returned to the common room, about an hour after dinner, Tracey practically launched herself off the couch to tackle her in a hug. All of Carina's concerns over what she had blabbed, with her mind all jumbled, were assuaged when she was teased over her deluded self believing that she was still at Smelting's. It was a bit embarrassing to hear she used one of Boots's toys as a pencil but much better than her worst fears.
To Tracey's amusement, Ken visited the hospital wing. While he claimed that it was to discuss choir auditions with Gemma, Tracey believed he was truly there for Carina, apparently never taking his eyes off her. Carina's cheeks turned redder than Ron's hair at her friend's assumption that he liked her. She barely had time for a serious conversation when Gemma joined them, begging her to convince Snape's mind about his 'no clubs' rule.
Still under her Smelting's delusion, she had showcased her singing voice. Gemma was desperate for her to join the choir, having lost some students who either graduated or were focused on their classes. The auditions did little to boost her spirits, with most students, mainly girls, not there for the choir at all but to either sing as a joke or get closer to Ken. Aside from Lisa and a couple others, it seemed hopeless.
"Cari?" Tracey sleepily lifted her head, her eyes partially shut. "It's Saturday. No classes…"
"I'm going for a run," she said, tying her sneakers. "I want to clear my head a little. You can go back to bed."
Not needing to be told twice, her head crashed back on the pillow. Carina slung her backpack over her shoulder and left the common room. Her run took her all over the grounds, keeping on the outer edge of the forest. Usually, she would be listening to music but for once, she appreciated the silence. It was much needed after such a hectic week.
Catching her breath, she leaned against a gnarled tree, her eyes closed. A leaf fell on her head and soon, dozens followed, as if a giant was shaking the tree. She stepped back, feeling something sharp brush past her ponytail. The trunk was split down the middle, the branches low to the ground.
At least twenty feet down on either side, the trees were all the same. Waving her wand, she returned them to normal.
"I'm in control. I'm in control," she whispered, heading back towards the castle. "Sunsets, mom, kittens—I'm in control."
No matter how much she repeated those words, it did inspire confidence. She could say it a hundred times but at the moment, she could not feel less in control. Several red and green blurs by the quidditch pitch caught her eye. As she got closer, she realized they were all holding broomsticks (the people in green having the same model), a sign that they belonged to the Gryffindor and Slytherin quidditch teams.
Oliver Wood, a handsome, burly sixth year and captain of the Gryffindor team, looked murderous, a piece of parchment in his hand. She kept her wand hidden under her sleeve, in case of a fight. Hermione and Ron hurried down from the stands.
"What's going on? Why does Oliver look mad?"
Ron shrugged. "Let's go see. I've got a bad feeling. Then again, who wouldn't around those gits?"
Flint sneered at the mere sight of her. The night before, when she returned from the hospital wing, Tracey told her how Flint was the mastermind behind Draco's prank. He lied about the effects of the lethe water, intending for it to hurt Carina when she inevitably tried to help Pansy. Snape had given both him and Adrian Pucey, who acted as his partner in crime, a month of detention, after deciding to forego his initial punishment of banning them from quidditch.
The Gryffindor team was staring, dumbfounded, at their sleek, expensive brooms, Nimbus Two Thousand One written in gold lettering. Draco stood beside Flint, his usual smug self, boasting to Ron about his father buying the brooms.
Remembering his conversation with Pansy in Potions, Carina deduced that his father's gift was instrumental in his gaining him a spot on the team, a seeker like Harry. She had never seen him on a broom but from what she had overheard in the common room the night of the tryouts, he was nowhere near the best.
The rest of the team howled with laughter when he suggested selling the Gryffindor brooms to a museum for some money.
"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione, sharply, coming to the same conclusion as Carina. "They got in on pure talent."
His smirk falling from his pale face, he rounded on her. "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood."
His appalling choice of words was met with immediate outrage. Flint shielded him from Fred and George, who would have tackled him if not for Alicia, Katie, and Angelina gripping the back of their robes. Oliver looked at him with pure disgust. Harry was simply clueless and it was the first time she had seen a similar face on Hermione, though it was mixed with mild offense.
Carina had first heard that same word over the summer. It was her third day in California with the Fawleys and she was sitting outside a café with Olivia and Seth. A man, overhearing her talk about Dudley's new video game, muttered it under his breath as he passed, glancing over at her like filthy animal.
Seth explained to her that it was a derogatory term, a foul word never used in polite conversation. It insinuated that muggleborns like her should be treated as lesser beings, giving pureblood wizards a sense of superiority.
Her nails dug so deeply into her palms, to keep her from doing something reckless, that they drew blood. How could Draco say such a disgusting word with no remorse? It was a bit ironic for him to consider himself superior when muggleborns like her and Hermione were upstaging him in every class.
Before she could stop him ("You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!"), Ron whipped out his broken wand and with a loud bang, his spell backfired, knocking him to the ground. Carina, Hermione, and Harry rushed over to him, amidst laughter from the Slytherins. Ron, pale as a ghost, began to burp up slugs, the slime dribbling down his chin.
His unfortunate predicament only made the Slytherins laugh harder, Flint leaning on his broom for support and Draco on all fours, banging his fist on the grass. Helping Ron up from the ground, Harry decided to take him to Hagrid's, angered when Colin, more fascinated than concerned, attempted to take pictures.
As Carina went to follow him and Hermione, a hand forcibly tugged on the hood of her sweatshirt, nearly choking her.
"Aw, where are you going, Evans?" asked Adrian, speaking to her like a child. "Mudbloods need to stick together?"
"Let her go now, Pucey, or—"
Adrian staggered backwards, his hands over his nose and bleed seeping through his fingers. Stunned, Oliver turned towards Carina, who was rubbing her elbow in pain. Draco and the other Slytherins, except for Flint, looked at her like she had just severed his arms, no longer laughing over Ron's failed spell.
"You little bitch. I'll—"
Flint stopped an enraged Adrian from lunging at her. He retrieved his wand from inside his robes, smirking.
"You think you're tough, Evans? No Snape around to protect his precious little muggle now."
Oliver and the rest of the Gryffindor team raised their own wands, moving protectively in front of her. Between Fred and George, she could see the malicious glint in Flint's dark eyes.
"Unless you want to lose your tongue…" started Fred.
"Or learn what it's like to be a beetle, you'll put that down, Flint," said George.
"Nice and slow."
"You're not going anywhere near her. Lower your wand now," snarled Oliver.
"This is Slytherin business, Wood," Flint warned, his lip curled. "Move aside. I've already got a month of detention because of that brat. You think I care if I get another for sending you and your pathetic team to the hospital wing?"
Her hands, still tightly balled into fists, shook, the urge to hit Flint with a spell or her fist overwhelming. A heavy gust of wind passed over the pitch, lifting up a wooden chest near the stands and almost hitting Flint. The Slytherins' brooms rose into the air and began beating them over the head, sending them running into the castle.
Angelina chastised Fred and George, believing it was their doing. Carina winced as she finally relaxed, the heavy gusts of wind steadying to a light breeze.
"Who cares who did it? They deserved it," Fred argued. "What we were we supposed to do, tell a teacher? You heard Flint. Snape would just give them more detention. They've been bullying her since the first night, right, Cari?
Hiding the blood on her hands, she nodded. The team offered to walk with her to the castle, sure that Flint was just waiting for the opportunity to attack her again. She discouraged Oliver from speaking to Professor McGonagall. He had good intentions, wanting to protect her from Flint and his equally mean friends, but she did not want to stir up trouble.
Nearing lunchtime, the Great Hall began to fill up with students. Some glanced in her direction, speaking in hushed whispers. News seemed to travel at lightning speed throughout the castle. At Oliver's encouragement, she sat at the Gryffindor table. It was like night and day, with kind smiles and warm greetings as opposed to the taunts and death glares from the Slytherins.
"There's our favorite songbird," said George.
Ken, trying to get away from three third year girls, joined the table, a red folder tucked under his arm. He looked slightly stressed out as he poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice.
"You okay there, mate?"
"Yeah, just waiting for Gemma so I can post the list from auditions. That's what those girls were trying to get out of me. Gemma's still hassling Snape about—oh, hey Carina. I'm sure she's glad you're feeling better. Not that I'm not glad too. What happened to your hand?"
Carina was not quick enough to hide the blood on her palm. Grabbing an apple from a bowl, she lied about slipping on the wet grass during her run. She flinched when he reached for her hand.
"I didn't mean to—I'm uh pretty good at healing charms. My dad's a healer so I've learned a lot from him. I promise it won't hurt."
Reluctantly, she held out her hand, keeping her eyes on her plate. He gently grasped her wrist and pointed his wand at her palm, muttering an incantation. From the corner of her eye, she watched the blood disappear, leaving the thin, fresh cuts.
As he cast another spell, Harry, Hermione, and Ron (no longer spewing out slugs) sat at the table, Harry immediately panicking over her wounds. Hermione kept him from confronting Flint and the rest of the Slytherin team. Fred and George bragging about Carina elbowing Adrian in the face after being called a mudblood only fueled his anger. He did not understand her reasoning for keeping the incident quiet.
"Cari, who cares if it gets them in trouble? You can't let them get away with it."
"It's not like another detention is going to change them. I'd rather just forget about it and move on." Ken tied a handkerchief around her hand. "Thanks."
"So you're just going to let them bully you until you graduate? How does that make sense?"
"That's not what I—"
The side of her backpack lit up with a bluish glow. Unzipping the pocket, she pulled out the mirror.
"Is that a two way mirror?" asked Hermione, intrigued. "I've read about those. The magic behind them is fascinating. In the fifteenth century, wizards would use them—"
"Where did you get it?" Harry was clearly not interested in wizard history. "You never showed me it before."
"Seth sent it with his owl the first day of classes."
His eyes narrowed at the mention of Seth. He had never reacted in such a negative way, seeing him as a friend. When he questioned why he sent the mirror, his tone was a bit harsh.
"To talk."
"Why do you have to talk to him? About what?"
"Just stuff…" The mirror felt warm beneath her fingers. "I'll be right back."
Leaving the table, she saw Hermione hit Harry over the head with her Transfiguration book. She found a quiet spot on a stone bench between two rusty knight statues. The glass in the mirror shimmered, the reflection of the high ceiling replaced with Seth's face.
"Hey. Did I catch you at a bad time?"
"No, I was just having some lunch. Sorry I haven't used it this yet. This week's been a little crazy. How is it back there? How's Olivia?"
"She's good. Almost got in a fight with Becky Edgerton and her harpies but I managed to stop her from ripping out her hair. You said it's been crazy? Did anything happen? My mirror was glowing a couple days ago but all I could see was a white ceiling and I heard someone say your name."
Carina blushed, wondering if she said his name in her delusional state. As he walked, holding the mirror, the painting behind him looked strangely familiar. It was not one of the many hanging in his house. Sensing that someone was approaching her from behind, she whipped out her wand and turned on her heel, the tip glowing bright red.
Her eyes widened at Seth, who was standing in front of her, her wand inches from his face.
"Whoa there, ninja," he said, tilting her wand to the stone floor. "Don't go blowing off my nose."
"S—Seth? Wh—what are you—how did you—"
His sudden visit took her by surprise. From the day Seth received his Hogwarts letter, Mrs. Fawley was against the idea of him attending the school, despite his abilities. She had plenty of valid reasons but it did not stop Seth or Olivia from pleading for a chance to learn amongst their peers.
Not willing to risk years of relentless bullying, highly likely with their father's reputation, she decided to teach them herself. The only chance at Hogwarts was through their mother's stories. If she knew that Seth was in the castle, she would have a fit.
Seth confessed to hearing more than just her name from the mirror. While waiting for her face to appear, just as his did seconds ago, he listened to Tracey yelling at someone about the mishap with the forgetfulness potion.
"Olivia and I were worried," he said, sitting with her on the bench. "We asked if we could visit you but you know my mother is about Hogwarts and us being around other wizards. She was already on edge after we went to Diagon Alley so I told her I was going to a friend's house and used the floo powder to get to Hogsmeade."
"What if someone sees you? You're not a student."
Seth grinned. "I don't think I'm much of a threat. Besides, I wanted to check on you." He noticed her injured hand. "Did someone hurt you?"
"N—no. These older boys were—they said some mean things and I was stopping myself from hurting them. You were right. It hasn't been that easy."
For the next ten minutes, she told him about her less than ideal first week, from the shock of getting sorted into Slytherin to her fellow housemates despising her just for being muggleborn. He frowned at her mention of multiple run-ins with Flint, his hand in her short stay in the hospital wing, and the earlier confrontation at the quidditch pitch. Unlike Harry, he understood her peaceful approach in refusing to involve the teachers or Dumbledore.
"Don't let them upset you. Just prove them wrong. Keep doing well in class and show them that you have as much of a right to be here."
"I doubt they'll ever believe that but I'll try. You didn't have to risk getting grounded for life to tell me that."
"Well, if I didn't, I couldn't give you this."
A silver charm bracelet appeared in his hand. Multiple charms, including a kitten, crescent moon, and heart, dangled from it. He clasped it around her wrist. She felt a spark when his fingers brushed against her skin.
"Olivia saw it while we were shopping for clothes. She wanted to give it to you in person but I thought it was better if both of us didn't come here. Do you like it?"
"Cari." Ken was walking down the corridor, a bounce in his step. "Gemma was just looking for you. She had really good news about—sorry, are you busy?"
"No. This is my friend Seth. He and his sister Olivia live by me. Seth, this is Ken. He's in Gryffindor."
"Oh, it's nice to meet you. I think Fred and George mentioned you on the train. You get homeschooled, right? That must be different. At least you don't have to deal with Snape."
"He was checking up on me. When I was in the hospital wing, I guess I said his name and he heard about what happened with the potion. They were worried so he decided to come here. His mom can't know so it's better if we don't tell anyone."
"No, I get it. I would not want to cross my mom either. She must be a pretty great witch to teach you guys. Does your dad help out too or is he a muggle?"
With a quick goodbye ("I'll talk to you later, Carina") and an angry glance at a confused Ken, Seth left the castle. She knew better than to chase after him, the subject of his father always putting him in a bad mood. It was exactly why Mrs. Fawley was against sending her children to Hogwarts.
"I'm sorry if I—is his dad not around? I really need to think before I talk."
"It's not your fault," she said, reassuringly. "When you said Fred and George talked about him, I thought they said his full name. It's um Fawley. He and Olivia go by their mother's maiden name to avoid the gossip. Their dad's—"
Hearing their surname, the realization hit him. "Gabriel Roche…and I'm an idiot."
Their father was the main reason for their homeschooling and self-imposed exile from the wizarding world. Carina first learned about him about a year after meeting the Fawleys, from an article about him in the Daily Prophet. He bore a striking resemblance to Seth, both having wavy golden blonde hair and blue eyes, except his eyes looked cold and distant. Before then, Olivia never spoke about him and deeply dreaded the truth.
Her father considered himself a true heir of Grindelwald, a fearsome dark wizard long before Voldemort began his own agenda. He held similar ideas to Voldemort about wizards being superior to muggles yet he pushed it further, even believing some wizard undeserving of their magic. When he was at Ilvermorny, he spent hours in the library, reading of Grindelwald's darkest deeds, and used his reputation as an upstanding student to gain access to the most restricted books, ones containing very dark magic.
When he first met Mrs. Fawley, traveling to Europe one summer with his parents, she saw him as a handsome American wizard that oozed charm and great magical talent. She was instantly smitten though upon his arrest, she learned that their meeting was not the start of some fairytale romance but maliciously calculated, down to the minute she would leave the dress shop with her friends.
He knew of her relation to Grindelwald through her mother's side of the family and the well-kept secret that her relatives still visited him in prison. Under the pretense of being a caring boyfriend, he manipulated her into bringing him along for a visit, providing him with an opportunity to speak with Grindelwald himself, leading to a deadly partnership.
While maintaining a long distance relationship with her, both just three years from graduating, he began to use Grindelwald's teachings, keeping in contact by owl, to cultivate his own following of wizards tired of being forced to hide in the shadows. He was able to avoid detection for years, even after the birth of their children, through his partnership with a gang of scourers, wizards who sold their own kind to muggles aware of magic.
With the help of the scourers, he was able to target strong witches and wizards, normally children because they were the most malleable. He particularly enjoyed children with extraordinary gifts, ones that pushed the limits of magic. About a week before Olivia's fifth birthday, he was caught by MACUSA aurors who followed the scourers to their hideout. It had been the scandal of the decade, his name on the front page for weeks as the full extent of his crimes was revealed to the public.
Mrs. Fawley, ashamed and distraught, moved to the muggle world to protect her children from harsh ridicule and the rumors. When he was first sentenced to Azkaban, she refused to let them visit but after years of questions and pleas, she relented, allowing them to visit once a month. The visit was never longer than five minutes and Olivia always kept her distance, thinking of her father as a monster.
"They're nothing like him, believe me. A lot of people think that he passed on all that crazy stuff to them but they would never hurt anyone."
"I believe you," said Ken. "If they're friends with you, how could they be bad? I won't tell anyone that he was here. My lips are sealed."
"I really appreciate that. You said Gemma was looking for me?"
"Yeah, I almost forgot. She managed to wear Snape down and he said that you can be part of the choir. Well, he said it's temporary, depending on…he was pretty vague about that but it's still great. Gemma almost started to cry. Practices are every Tuesday after dinner."
"That's great," she said, excitedly. "I think it'll help clear my head of all this bad stuff with Flint. I'll make sure Snape has no reason to change his mind. Ken?"
He was looking uncertainly at her injured hand. "I know you said you don't want to talk to Dumbledore about them and I respect that. It's completely your choice but—and whatever you tell me, it'll stay between us. Did Flint hurt you?"
"W—what do you mean?"
"When I was healing your hand, some of those cuts looked old and pretty deep…you know, as if you got them awhile ago. I know how horrible he can be but if you're too scared to say something, I'll go to Dumbledore for you. I get why you wouldn't tell Harry. He's your cousin and he'd probably try to fight every Slytherin if they so much as flicked you on the nose."
Keeping her hand behind her back, she lied that the cuts were from Dudley. She thought it sounded convincing as she told him about all the times Dudley would practice wrestling moves on her and Harry, easily overpowering them. Even with his relieved sigh, she was unsure if he believed her.
"I promised to help Tracey with her potions essay. She's probably waiting for me in the library. Thanks again for my hand. You really are good at healing charms."
His eyes seemed to follow her all the way up the staircase. Instead of the library, she headed to a room on the second floor. Just like the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, the walls were covered with pictures of Lockhart, winking at her from every direction. Lockhart himself was seated at his desk, writing with a fancy quill.
"Ah, Miss Evans, come in. I was just getting ready for your cousin. I was able to convince Professor McGonagall to let him do detention with me. Far more enjoyable than whatever she had planned, I'm certain. It'll give us plenty of time to talk, get that little fame bug out of his head."
"I bet it will," she said, feigning a smile. "I was wondering if I could ask about one of your books."
His eyes lit up as she grabbed the book from her backpack. "Marauding with Monsters, one of my favorites. Lovely time spent in the south of France. Hardly had any to myself, of course, what with everyone wanting to hear about my adventures or pictures and autographs. The curse of fame, I'm afraid."
"I wanted to ask you about your trip to Brazil. You saved a boy named Carlos."
Lockhart stared blankly back at her, showing no recollection of his time there. Opening the book to the marked page, she placed it on his desk, near a pile of fan letters. The passage described a series of attacks in a small town in Brazil. Buildings and trees would crumble to pieces in a matter of seconds. Many people believed it to be an ogre or a giant but Lockhart discovered the culprit to be an eleven year old boy.
"Ah, yes, a tragic tale. Poor boy had no idea he was causing all that trouble but luckily, I managed to save him. No telling what would've happened if I hadn't shown up in time. The town was grateful, of course…threw a festival in my honor and rewarded me with a chest filled with jewels and—"
"How?" she interrupted, uninterested in that part of the story. "How did you save him? An obscurus isn't easy to handle and Newt Scamander says removing it will kill the host, especially if they're older, but Carlos survived."
Lockhart was silent for a few minutes. To her confusion, he let out a hearty laugh.
"Quite the curious mind you've got, Miss Evans. I admire that, you know. Reminds me of myself when I was at Hogwarts as a boy. Never had my nose out of a book, wanting to learn as much as I could, but curiosity has its limits. The details are much too gruesome for a young girl like yourself."
"But—"
"Don't want to be responsible for giving you nightmares. That is why we leave such daring deeds to the experts." He opened his door. "Now, go enjoy the rest of this beautiful day. You don't want it to go to waste."
For the second time this week, he shut a door in her face. She muttered about his incompetence all the way down to the dungeons. It was obvious that Lockhart was stalling, either because the details truly were gruesome or his story was a complete lie.
"Evans." Snape left his office, stowing a folded piece of parchment inside his robes. "I've just spent an hour with Miss Davis. Do you know why?"
"No. Did something happen?"
"She came to me with a concern. She's noticed that you haven't spent a single night in the dormitories. You claim to be visiting your cousin in the Gryffindor common room and then by the time she wakes, you're already dressed. However, she hasn't seen you in your bed once. Care to explain?"
Carina considered lying to him, blaming it all on Flint and his bullying. Her friends would believe such a story without question but Snape was not that gullible.
"When I came here, I thought Dumbledore would put me in my own room. I—I didn't want to hurt them. What if something happened in my sleep and—I just thought it would be safer if I was alone. I've been sleeping in a room in the dungeons."
"Across from the storeroom, I'm aware. After my conversation with Miss Davis, I did my own investigating and that particular room had a heavy trace of magic from the enchantment you cast."
"I didn't think they would notice. I was afraid of what might happen."
"That is precisely why you're here, Carina."
It was the first time he called her by her name, not just Evans or Miss Evans. Behind his usually cold eyes was a hint of empathy.
"To overcome that fear. I understand it may be daunting but hiding yourself away, you won't see any progress. Your mother wanted you here because it is a school, not a prison. From now on, you will be sleeping in the dormitory."
"But what if—"
"You will not harm anyone. I'm certain of that."
As she returned to the common room, she wished she had his confidence. The thought of hurting someone, even the Slytherins who treated her like garbage, made her uneasy. She spent the rest of the day in the common room with Tracey and Daphne, who gushed over her new bracelet and Seth's surprise visit.
Daphne rolled a ball of yarn towards Boots. "That's the only reason he looked mad at Ken? Sounds to me like he didn't like getting interrupted. He risked getting grounded to see you, Cari. If he doesn't have a crush, I'm part kelpie."
"You think—no, you're way off. I'm practically another sister to him. We're friends, nothing more."
"Maybe he wants it to be more," she teased, making Tracey giggle. "He's so handsome, especially in those glasses. They make him look so smart."
"Oh, I think they'd be a perfect match. A blood traitor and a mudblood."
Draco descended down the staircase, with Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy at his heels. He sneered at Carina, who braced herself for yet another fight. The incident at the quidditch was likely still fresh in his mind.
"You think you're funny, Evans?"
"I know some good jokes." A couple first years sitting on the windowsill hid their grins behind their sleeves. "Do you want to hear one?"
"I know it was you," he said, his eyes narrowed to slits. "The spell on the brooms. When my father hears about it, you and the Gryffindors won't be laughing so much. I hear Adrian's planning a special surprise for you. You know, payback for his nose. I suggested turning you into a rat."
"What's your problem with me?"
"Besides your entire existence?" Pansy giggled shrilly at his words. "You've only been here a week but I think I understand why your mother abandoned you. How did she stand you for so long?"
Carina had never been a violent person. She was kind to anyone she met and always stayed calm, even under the worst circumstances. If anything could send her into a blind rage, it was someone insulting her mother.
She proved too fast for Tracey, who tried to stop her before she sprang up from her spot on the floor. The tip of her wand rested just under his pointed chin. Crabbe and Goyle rubbed their knuckles, menacingly.
"You don't get to talk about my mother," she snapped, her nostrils flaring.
Draco did not look the least bit threatened. To him, it was like being attacked by a kitten. He slipped his own wand out of his back pocket.
"Go on, then, Evans. Let's see what you've got. No luck on your side this time, like when you disarmed my father."
The tension in the common room palpable, she lowered her wand. "I'm not fighting you."
"Told you she'd be scared, Pansy. She's too nice."
"No, I just won't sink to your level." She stepped towards him, close enough to see her reflection in his grey eyes. "But if you ever talk about my mother again, that'll change and you'll regret it. That's a promise."
That night, falling asleep proved impossible. She was somehow tired and not tired at the same time, leading her to toss and turn for several hours. Around midnight, she finally managed to drift off to sleep though it was far from peaceful.
Her dream was a jumbled mess, starting with her and her mother in their old house in Kent, putting up decorations for Christmas. Soon becoming a nightmare, her surroundings changed, her mother vanishing in a puff of smoke and that smoke coiling around Carina like a snake. The smoke seeped into her mouth and nostrils, making it difficult to breathe, and no matter how much she waved her wand, the smoke remained, tightening its grip by the second.
All around her was darkness. A masked man emerged from the cloud of dark smoke.
"You're gonna be my good girl, aren't you? My sweet little girl."
She cried out when the smoke pierced her leg, feeling like a sharp knife.
CRASH
Nearly falling out of her bed, she saw the other girls on the floor, wrapped up in their blankets or rubbing their knees and elbows. Daphne, still half asleep, attempted to turn on her lamp while Elizabeth panicked over an ogre attack. There was a red mark on Carina's leg, the same spot the smoke grabbed her in the dream. Hearing Boots hiss, she followed the sound and her heart began to race, a thousand beats per minute.
The entire stone wall separating the second and third year dormitories had completely crumbled, nothing but a pile of debris and pale smoke. Between the panicked voices from the girls, half of the third year girls on the floor and the rest frantically searching for their wands in the dark, there was a small group of bodies sprawled out on the rubble. Boots was attacking one of them, his claws digging into their face.
Carina looked from her leg to her blanket in a curled up ball across the room, putting the pieces together. The tall stranger shot a spell towards Boots, who swiftly dodged it before sinking his teeth into their arm.
A group of girls, a mix of sixth and seventh years, hurried into the room, their wands raised. With two flicks of her wand, Gemma lit every lamp and forced the hidden figures, clearly all boys, to stand up straight. Their faces were covered by masks, ones similar to those worn by scourers.
Her friends disarmed the boys before conjuring thick, black ropes around their bodies and mouths, causing some to stumble. Boots continued to hiss at them.
Leaving her friend to deal with Pansy's whining over a scraped elbow, Gemma helped Tracey untangle herself from her blanket. "Cari, can you tell me what h—"
Carina backed away from Gemma, afraid to so much as touch her pinky. Shaking all over, she buried her head between her knees. She listened to Gemma and the older girls console the frightened second and third years.
"Everybody, relax. Snape is coming now."
Lifting her head slightly, Carina watched as a curly-haired fifth year girl entered the room with Snape. All the girls babbled on about explosions and kidnappers but he made a beeline straight for her. He already knew what had caused all this damage. Passing it off as a calming draught, he handed her a vial of her special potion. Taking a single sip instantly relaxed her.
In a split second, the masks vanished from the boys' faces, revealing Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, Flint, Adrian, another fourth year named Graham Montague, and two seventh years.
"He grabbed me," she said, her eyes on Adrian. His face was scarred by several deep scratch marks, courtesy of a tiny but ferocious Boots. "He grabbed my leg."
"No, I—sir, I didn't touch her. I was barely near her bed when her cat jumped on me."
Draco pointed at the rubble. "We didn't do that. Professor, we were just having a laugh." One of the seventh years scoffed quietly, her arm around a teary-eyed Elizabeth. "We were going to mess up their beds, that's all. When Adrian went to grab her blanket, something happened and—I don't know how to describe it. This invisible force knocked us back and broke the wall. It cut my hand too. Lo—"
"SILENCE!" Snape looked like he wanted to expel them at that very moment. "IN MY OFFICE! NOW!"
"But, sir—"
"NOW!"
Deciding against angering him further, they left the room. Snape repaired the damage with a quick wave of his wand.
"Farley, make sure these girls get to bed. They've been through enough this evening."
Not one Slytherin was interested in sleep. They all piled into the common room, each telling their own version of the events that became increasingly ridiculous. Only Carina stayed in her room, her body a bundle of nerves. As she listened to Daphne's claims that Flint tried to cut off her finger, she chanced a glance at her leg. The red mark was gone but in its place, her veins had blackened, pulsating beneath her skin.
Taking another sip of her potion, she began to cough, feeling a tickle in the back of her throat. A puff of black smoke escaped her lips, rising to the ceiling.