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Disclaimer: I make no money out of this fanfiction and have no claim to Harry Potter.

Chapter Six: Lucy's Lucky Break

Hallowe'en came towards them like a speeding Hogwarts Express- the first-years were so swamped with work that they hardly perceived the passing of time. McGonagall and Professor Vector were the hardest of the teachers; after only two lessons, the transfiguration teacher expected them to turn a pencil into candle, something that even the study-savvy Ravenclaws had trouble doing. Vector was equally as evil. Arithmancy was taken off the first-year curriculum a few years later for a reason; it was a hellishly tricky subject that required not only an extensive knowledge of magic but also at least an O-Level in Maths, neither of which the eleven-year old wizards and witches who took it possessed.

Charms was a little easier, as both Conyeri and Lucy found they excelled at it. They often stole away to an empty classroom (usually the History of Magic classroom- that was usually completely devoid of any students, especially when there was a class going on) and practiced dueling, both quite set on participating in the dueling challenge coming the day after Hallowe'en. After mastering the popular jellylegs jinx, expelliarmus (which was much more difficult than it looked), they tried an interesting hex that spawned caterpillars randomly in your enemy's clothes. The first time this had been used, Lucy had cast it unexpectedly after ducking Conyeri's pepper-nose charm and caused an embarrassing visit to the hospital wing. It was difficult to explain why a first-year had a couple of caterpillars in odd places. Conny didn't think Madam Pomfrey would ever look at her the same way again.

Potions was dire- Professor Snape sped through all his lectures and expected them to take perfect notes. He never washed and, although quite young-looking, was about as far from attractive as it was possible to be. A week before Hallowe'en, he'd put his hand on Jonmarc's shoulder, and the French boy was still washing his jumper to get the grease-stain out. And, if you'd believe it, he'd made them brew a pint of the Elixir of Immeasurability. By their fourth double lesson, which they took with the Hufflepuffs, they'd collectively learned just about nothing. Well, Corfax had learned that adding turmeric to a Rapid-Growth potion was not a good idea, since it actually created the much more dangerous Nasogrosse potion. Gas from this nasty brew had escaped through the vents in the dungeon and taken a group of third-years in Transfiguration by surprise, causing their noses to swell to unmanageable proportions. Professor McGonagall had not been pleased, but Snape had just shrugged her off and taken twenty points from Hufflepuff to keep her quiet. He didn't seem to care if anyone liked him or not.

The day of Hallowe'en saw the first-year charms class employed by Flitwick to practice the Wingardium Leviosa charms they had been learning decorating the great hall. The Ravenclaws happily set to work levitating decorations around- although some of the pumpkins were so large that they took several students concentrating at once to lift- and one ended up being dropped on Conny's foot anyway- but it did help their proficiency with the spell a great deal. The Great Hall looked resplendent in its finery- they hadn't seen it looking like this since the start of term banquet.

Charms was the last lesson of the day, and Flitwick gave them all a cauldron cake each as thanks for helping him, so they were in a merry mood as they returned to the Ravenclaw Tower. Conyeri pawned her cake off to a passing Corfax for a copy of the Daily Prophet (since she didn't have an owl, she didn't receive it regularly) and read out the stories in funny voices as they got ready for the feast.

"Pass me that hairband?" Lucy asked from her position of dominance over the mirror, where she was preening herself. One of the other girls they shared with- Conny knew their names now, but for some reason couldn't use them when they were attending to Lucy like slaves- obliged and passed it to her. "Thanks." She smiled coyly. It worried Conny that, at eleven, Lucy already knew how to get people to do exactly what she wanted.

She looked back down at the Prophet, concentrating on completing the cryptic crossword. It was hard; perhaps she'd ask Jonmarc later on. They enjoyed trying to figure out the answers together. She sighed and set the paper down, deciding to shower before the feast. The girls' showers were nicer than the boys', according to Jonmarc's description of algae and freezing water. She took her towel and shampoo (Follicious' 2 in 1 Wizarding Shampoo and Conditioner- putting the shine back into your spellwork since 1544!) and padded over to the luxurious showers, deciding, since she had time on her hands, to take a bath. She locked the door of the large bath cubicle and ran the taps, adding some lavender to make it smell nice. As she soaked, she fell into a light slumber and started snoring loudly. A dream began to unfurl in her mind.

She was looking out onto a remote, rocky landscape. The sky was too dark to be day, but the sun had cast the hills in a dying red light, allowing the silhouette of a cloaked figure to be seen on the crest of a hill, robes floating around lazily in the wind. Another figure joined it, and another, until there were six people on the hill. They looked around furtively before the first one drew their wand- his wand, asit transpired, since in turning around to address the others, his hood was blown down, revealing a handsome face and high cheekbones. Long, dark hair flew freely behind him. He pointed his wand at one of his companions, who stepped back with their hands in front of them defensively.

With a silver flash, another joined their group to stand in front of the handsome man, between him and the one he was pointing to. They shook hands and laughed for a minute, and then, with a spine-chilling pain in Conny' stomach, they all turned to look at her at once.

Seven sets of dark, dark eyes narrowed at once. She felt her breath catch in her throat.

-o-

"Where on earth is Conny?" Lucy asked off-handedly. She, Rebecca, Anna and Polly were waiting in the Common Room with Jonmarc, Gilderoy and a couple of other Ravenclaw boys. She checked a clock and saw that if they didn't leave soon, they'd be late for the feast. "Has anyone seen her?"

They shook their heads. A few minutes of awkward waiting later, Rebecca suddenly remembered something. "She had her towel with her when she left the room. Maybe she went to shower."

"Half an hour ago?" Anna asked sckeptically. "She probably left already, and we're waiting for nothing, Luce."

"No, she'd definitely go with me." Lucy dismissed her protests. "Tell you what, you guys go ahead, I'm going to look for her."

They didn't look happy about it, but Lucy always got what she wanted, so they reluctantly left down to the feast. Lucy went in search of Conyeri at the Ravenclaw Commons, but nobody was there. She found Luke and Ally and asked if they'd seen her. Another negative. Ally offered to come with her and search the dorms, but she politely declined, not wanting to keep her from the revelry. By the look of the couple, the sixth formers had had a fair bit to drink already and were planning to make a bit of a night out of Hallowe'en.

She went up to search the showers, but they were silent. One of the bath cubicles was locked. "Conny?" She yelled, but nobody answered. It would be rude to barge in on someone in the bath, but since everyone else had already gone to the Great Hall, Lucy figured that Conny must be in here, though she didn't know why. Pointing her wand at the lock, she whispered, "Alohomora!", and it opened with a creak.

"Conny!" She gasped, seeing her friend under the water in the bath, having drowned. She ran towards her and hefted her out of the bath by the armpits, sending her sprawling onto the floor. If it had been any other first-year, Conny would be dead as Dickens' doornail, but Lucy, who was in possession of four older brothers and lived in a part of London where survival was paramount, knew what to do in these situations. She checked Conyeri's pulse- a weak flutter that petered out even as she checked. She remembered that if someone drowned, oxygen wasn't getting into their blood and their body would shut down. Muggles had to try getting blood around the body again, or purging water from the lungs, but wizards had long ago developed a spell to do this. She clenched her wand hard and pushed the tip into Conny's chest, yelling: "Defaeco!" as though her life depended on it. Well, Conny's did.

Nothing happened, and Lucy worried that she hadn't done the spell properly, but then Conny's head shot back, and her throat opened, allowing a stream of bath-water to spurt out onto the floor next to her. Her body spasmed violently as her gagging reflex activated, expelling the last dregs out along with a rattling groan. Lucy desperately shook her, wanting her to wake up, but she was unconscious. She checked her airway- yes, there was breathing! Light, erratic breathing, but breathing nevertheless. Despite wanting to congratulate herself on her victory, Lucy picked Conny up under her arms and dragged her from the bathroom, and then remembered that she wasn't wearing any clothes. Embarrassed, she found a pair of knickers and a loose t-shirt that someone obviously a lot taller that Conyeri had left hanging up and labouriously dressed her. The clothes got wet anyway, but at least it protected the girl's modesty.

Lucy managed to get her into the Common Room with much effort. She was at loss as to what to do. Conyeri needed to see a healer, and there was the question as to why she had drowned in the first place, too.

The portrait of Helena Ravenclaw gasped. "My dear, whatever's wrong!"

"She drowned in the bath." Lucy panted. "I really need help, but everyone's at the feast!"

Helena frowned and then disappeared from her portrait for a moment. She returned with a fat witch in red robes. "Can you inform someone?"

"I will spread the word around." The witch said, her eyes wide. "I'm sure somebody can be roused."

It became a big old fuss- though the two girls didn't know it at the time, half the portraits in the entire castle (which is to say a lot) were employed for the next five minutes in causing as a big a ruckus as possible to attract attention. Conyeri was still not awake by the time a teary and hurried-looking Professor Flitwick appeared from the entrance, with several other teachers and prefects behind him. "Merlin!" He squeaked, running over. "Is she all right?"

"She's breathing, but I'm not sure of anything else." Lucy said nervously, biting her lip, trying to wipe tears from her own eyes.

"You must tell me what happened on the way to the Hospital Wing." He ushered her out. Someone had conjured a stretcher that Conyeri had been loaded onto and cast a locomotor charm on it, so it floated in front of them as they rushed downstairs.

Lucy explained what had gone on, with Flitwick looking more and more worried. "You don't know how long she was under for?"

"No." She shook her head. "Or why. People don't just normally drown in the bath."

"True." Flitwick huffed and puffed as he tried to keep pace. "Well, thank Merlin you were there, else I wouldn't want to think what would have happened."

Lucy gulped and stifled another set of sobs. It had all been very scary. She was shaking. Where had her streetwise bluster gone now? Khai would have been disappointed. Then again, Khai was a hard brother to please. Lucy grimaced and shook thoughts of her family out of her head, replacing them with concern for her friend.

"Will she be all right, Professor?" she asked.

"I suspect so. Hopefully she was not under too long, else her brain may be damaged, but if all goes well, she should recover fine." Flitwick explained, and then, lowering his voice, said to her: "And I should very well give you forty points to Ravenclaw, for an outstanding act of bravery, and quick-thinking that saved your friend's life."

Lucy beamed at him as the little man winked. It just happened that they reached the first floor then, and their group invaded the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey had a bed and several nasty-looking potions prepared.

She huffed and fussed, sending everyone except Flitwick and Lucy out, drawing the curtains around the bed and muttering about safety.

After a check-up, Madam Pomfrey pronounced that Conyeri would be all right, but would need a night of sleep and a draught of Oxylixer, a clear, slightly red potion that returned lost oxygen to the blood. She allowed Lucy to stay and pour drops of the potion down Conny's throat, out of worry that a large mouthful would set her choking again. "Honestly, what were they thinking, going off to the feast without her…?" Pomfrey tutted before leaving them alone. The feast was still going on, and they could faintly hear the revelry downstairs. About an hour later, a pair of very drunk sixth formers were given beds, the number increasing as the night progressed. They were rowdy and sick, and it didn't take Madam Pomfrey very long to storm in angrily and cast a silencing charm on them.

Sometime after midnight, Lucy fell asleep beside her friend's bed.