Chapter 7:
In Parenthesis, Part 1
"So, let me get this straight," Draco deadpanned the next morning, when Harry, Ron, and Hermione went over to the Slytherin table during breakfast. The magical ceiling above showed a sky spattered about with greyish clouds that peeked through the wide turquoise carpet. "You want me to risk my life for you to deal with a problem that I have absolutely no part in."
"That about sums it up, yes," Hermione confirmed. Around them, people shoved by as they boisterously walked about the Grand Hall to go visit their friends, or to grab some food that they didn't have nearby. Hermione glared at someone who quite rudely bumped into her and almost spilled their pumpkin juice all over her robes.
The blond, sitting backwards in his seat to look at them all, gave them a flat stare. "No."
Ron coughed. "Well, you did kind of try to humiliate Harry and I in front of the whole school just because Harry decided he wanted to be my friend. And you did punch me in the face with your Stand. The least you could do to apologize is help save the school from a potential threat."
"Those are trivial matters." Draco folded his arms and rested one leg against the other's knee in a figure four position. "Besides, I had to get dragged into the Sorting Ceremony by Filch grabbing me and pulling me by the ears. There's no way I'm helping either you or Potter unless you can give me a very good reason why I should, Weasley. Granger, though..." His bored eyes fell upon her. "She may be a mere Mudblood, but she at least hasn't done anything to me yet, so I might be bothered to at least her out, if it wasn't for the fact that she's apparently friends with you two now."
"Mudblood?" Hermione wrinkled her nose in confusion.
"MUDBLOOD!?" bellowed Ron, seething.
Everyone within earshot swiveled around in their seats to stare interestedly at the conversation, drawn by the strange word.
"Oh, shit, he went there!" said a random Ravenclaw sixth year, who earned himself a nasty frown from his nearby Head Boy.
"What's a Mudblood?" Harry asked Ron, who was absolutely livid. The boy's ears had turned pink with rage, and he ground his teeth together like he was only barely holding back a truly biting insult at Draco.
Ron's fists trembled with his fury. "It's a really mean insult against Muggleborns," he snarled, glowering at the stone-faced Malfoy. "It's about as low, as nasty as one can get. It's basically poking fun at the fact that they don't have any magic in their family history - saying that they have 'dirty blood.' It's a whole bunch of unicorn bollocks if you ask me. There's loads of Muggleborns who are much better at magic than even ancient Pureblood families."
Oh. Ohhh. Harry's gaze shifted to Malfoy and fell into a glare. The blond seemed largely unperturbed by the furious looks he was getting, or by the countless pairs of eyes turned very interestedly upon the four first-years.
Hermione's fist shook with rage.
"Um, Hermione," said Harry, who had caught his second new friend's rage out of the corner of his eye, "I know you're upset about this; I am, too, but you should really hold back, because the entire school's kind of watching us, and we could lose House Points if we start a fight..."
The bushy-haired brunette paused and looked around for several moments. Their unwanted audience blinked in creepy unison.
"...If they don't see me do anything, we can't lose any points for Gryffindor," Hermione said reasonably, turning back to Harry with a sly grin that seemed somehow very out-of-character for her. Harry and Ron blinked. Draco looked equally confused, frowning as he tried to understand what Hermione was saying. A second later, though, her meaning became clear... or, rather, her Stand did as it faded into existence, leaped forward, and slammed its fist into Draco's rich face heavily.
Malfoy's head snapped back into his omelette.
"HUUUH!?" around thirty voices gasped in unison, staring bug eyed as Draco suddenly fell back into his breakfast for no apparent reason.
One of the Weasley twins, grinning widely, pulled a megaphone out of nowhere and yelled into it, "OOOOHHHHHHHH HOT DA-!"
"Weasley!" barked McGonagall, glaring at the twin from behind the staff table.
"...DIAMONDS!"
The sound of footsteps drew the trio's attention to Dumbledore, who had walked over from the staff tables to where they stood in front of Draco. The youngest Malfoy sputtered as he picked himself out of his smashed breakfast and brushed bits of egg, cheese, pepper, and more out of his blond hair.
"Does there seem to be any problem here?" said the Headmaster, not unkindly.
"No, sir, there's no problem at all," Hermione answered with a beatific smile. Harry and Ron gaped.
Draco shook the last of his omelette out of his hair, then pointed a furious finger at Hermione, snarling. "Wrong! You just punched me in the face!"
"So, you claim that Miss Granger here started a fight?" the long-bearded man asked calmly.
"EEEEXAAACTLY!" Draco drawled slowly, like he was tired of having to explain this already.
The Headmaster stood considering for a few moments. The blond rich kid sat panting angrily, still shocked at getting punched. Harry and Ron felt nervous goosebumps starting to spread along their arms. They didn't want detention this early in their school career, and especially not with every pair of eyes in the Great Hall - student, staff, and ghost alike - staring directly at them while they got it. For now that Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, everyone was watching them.
"I'm afraid I didn't see Miss Granger make any negative movements against you, Mister Malfoy," Dumbledore said at last. Harry swore he saw a knowing twinkle in the man's eye. "Please don't spread false information about your fellow students."
And with that, he walked away. Most everyone in the Great Hall turned back to whatever they'd been doing before, somewhat disappointed.
Ron let out a breath of relief, then frowned at Hermione. He appeared unsure whether to hug her or be horrified by her. He shook his head bemusedly, saying, "That was bloody awesome, but please don't do that again. I think I almost got a heart attack, and I'm eleven."
Hermione smirked. "He had it coming."
"Remind me to never get on your bad side," Harry said, sweatdropping. Ron nodded hastily beside him.
Draco's eye twitched, and he gingerly rubbed his now-sore face as he glared testily at the trio. Sitting either side of him, Crabbe and Goyle hesitated, ensure of what actions to take. At last, the blond leaned back and rested his elbows against the edge of the table. He turned his head to the left and regarded them out of the corner of his eyes, folding his hands in a Gendo Pose manner despite the angle of his head. "Fine then. Granger, Weasley. Potter." He said the last name like he'd rather see gum on the bottom of his shoe. "You three, meet Crabbe, Goyle and I in the trophy room tonight. No contact, no Stands - just magic. We'll settle this then. You win, and I'll join your little crusade. You lose, and you lot stay out of my hair."
Hermione harrumphed. "You want me to duel you tonight? That's against the rules. I won't do anything like that."
"You just punched me in the face!" Draco said in disbelief.
"That was different. Just help us fight anyone who reveals themselves to be a Stand user and who's an enemy. Professor Dumbledore is even willing to give you extra House Points if you do. Go ask him yourself," she added, when Draco scoffed. "It's true."
"Hermione," Harry said nervously, "maybe we should accept his challenge. He doesn't seem like he'll take no for an answer."
The blond nodded. "Listen to Potter. He's talking logic for once." Harry scowled at him, but Draco forged on. "The only way you'll convince me to join is by proving all three of you can hold your own in a fight. Potter and Weasley have already... done so regarding Stands, but we're in a school of magic. What if someone combines jinxes and curses with their Stands? I won't be willing to join a band who can't hold their own."
"He..." Ron sighed and slumped. "As much as I hate to admit it, he has a point."
Harry blanched. He hadn't even thought about magical duels. How did wizards duel, anyway? What exactly happened in one?
But Hermione shook her head resolutely. "I'm not going to engage in something so stupid and pointless as this. Professor Dumbledore wants us to be a team, Malfoy. We can't work together properly if we fight amongst ourselves. Besides, I refuse to break any school rules if I can avoid it."
Draco studied her intently for a minute, then sighed and shook his head. "Your loss, then. But in case you still want to chance gaining me on your little team, I'll still be waiting for you in the trophy room tonight. Eleven thirty. Right, Crabbe, Goyle?"
"Right!" the two lackeys echoed stupidly.
Hermione wrinkled her nose, then turned to Harry and Ron and started walking away. "Come on, you two," she said with a frown. "We're done here."
The two boys exchanged mystified glances before hurrying to keep pace with their fellow crusader.
"Hermione, come on, Draco's power would be really useful in a fight!" Harry pleaded. He didn't much like the Stand user himself, but the boy's Stand was quite good. And given some proper experience... "He had Ron and I on the ropes there for a bit! We only one because neither he nor we were very serious about it and because I happened to think outside the box a bit."
"No," his new friend said stiffly. "Rules are rules."
"I don't much like the idea of working together with Malfoy on anything," Ron admitted, "but even I have to agree that it'd be nice to at least have another backup fighter. Come on, Hermione, it'll only be for a little bit!"
Hermione stopped so suddenly that Harry and Ron almost ran into her. She whirled around, exasperation decorating her countenance. "And have either of you actually been in a wizard's duel, hm? Do you even know any magic? What happens if we all fight and you two lose, leaving only me to fight all three of them? What then?"
Harry and Ron stared.
"I, uh," Harry started, lost for words. He shook his head and said, "Well, how do you suppose we get Malfoy to join us, then?"
Ron jumped on that wagon. "Yeah, you heard him! He's only going to join if we can prove we're strong enough!"
Hermione hesitated. Harry could practically see the gears in her head turning, trying to come up with a solution. At last, Hermione grunted and rolled her eyes. "Alright," she said, her voice dripping in annoyance, "but if we get caught, I'm saying you two forced me to come with you."
"You do you," Ron said, shrugging.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione found themselves all anxiously awaiting their coming duels that night. They had trouble paying attention in class, each stressed about the event in their own way. None of them wanted to be sent home on their third day in Hogwarts. Harry especially feared this; what would the Dursleys say if he showed up on their doorstep, having been kicked out of school? It would be horrifying.
Hermione, for her part, dealt with her stress by forcing Harry and Ron to spend every minute of their free time when they didn't have to be going to class in an empty or abandoned classroom. In these rooms, they all studied dueling magic from books that Hermione had borrowed from the library. Harry felt a particular draw towards the Expelliarmus spell, which he discovered in a book bound in yellow leather. They even tried practicing a few of the spells on each other, though nothing that would leave any lasting effects, like the Full Body-Bind Curse. Ron seemed to be having a bit of trouble picking up any spells, though by nine o'clock, Hermione had mastered Repulso, the Confoundus Charm, and (strangely enough) Scourgify. Harry had at least started to get decent with Expelliarmus.
Finally, eleven o'clock rolled around. The two wizards and one witch left their most recent abandoned classroom, which now retained a particular smell of fresh soap, and stretched as they got ready to leave.
"It's probably best we go now," Hermione reasoned, frowning at a clock that hung on a wall. "Better that we're early than we're late."
Harry nodded. "That's a good idea. If we don't arrive on time, Malfoy might decide we're not coming and leave."
Ron wiped some sweat from his brow. Trying to train your body to fire off different types of magic all day long was certainly not an easy task, especially for a first-year student. "Alright, then." He fought back a yawn and started for the door. "Let's get going."
They left the classroom nervously, double- and triple-checking for any signs of Filch or Mrs. Norris roaming the halls. Not seeing any, they carefully crept along the dimly lit halls. Sweat pooled on their foreheads. If they were caught, it would be horrible. Every slight brush of air against their skin felt like Filch breathing down their necks; every flicker of light felt like a ghost swooping in on them, to go tell a teacher about their presence. Their robes swishes quietly around their feet as they carefully made their way up to the third floor, where (according to Hermione) the trophy room could be located.
It took them about ten or fifteen minutes to reach the trophy room. It was a wide and long rectangle of a room, with an alabaster floor and walls, as well as a few windows peering eerily out into the dark night that the castle was submerged in. Different cups of victory and statues sat on pedestals and in clusters upon tables. Each had either a gold, silver, or bronze plating on their bottoms. Letters were stenciled into these, indicating who got them, when they were earned, and for what purposes they had been awarded.
Other than Harry, Ron, and Hermione, the trophy room was empty.
"Looks like Draco and his goonies aren't here yet," Ron observed, looking around the place.
Hermione snorted. "Thank you for that, Captain Obvious."
"You're welcome, Lieutenant Sarcasm," Harry returned flatly despite not being the object of the brunette's sarcasm. He rolled his wand between his fingers idly. "What do you suppose we should do now? There's, what, fifteen minutes until when we're supposed to have our duel?"
Ron tilted his head in consideration. "I guess just practice more, or maybe talk strategy," he suggested.
"Practicing would be too dangerous." Hermione shook her head and put her hands on her hips sternly. She rather reminded Harry of a much younger McGonagall. "What if something went wrong and a spell accidentally hit one of the trophies because we didn't want to hurt one of our own? Better to save the magic for the duel itself. I still can't quite believe I agreed to this stupidity," she mumbled under her breath in addition.
"And there's no need for strategy, either, really," Harry pointed out. "It's just pointing your wand at your opponent and shouting nonsensical words."
Ron tried to come up with a counter for that. He failed. "What, then, we just wait?"
And so they waited.
And they waited.
And they waited some more. But no-
"This is boring," grumbled Ron impatiently. His fingers tapped a rhythmic beat on his arm.
Harry frowned at him. "Ron, you interrupted the narration."
"I know, but we're just doing nothing! And it's been twenty minutes already!"
"That seemed pretty quick," Hermione muttered, raising an eyebrow. "Well, in any case, neither Draco, Crabbe, nor Goyle have shown yet. Do you think Malfoy was just playing us?"
"Sounds rude enough to be true," Harry grumbled. He wrote a mental note to take a leaf out of Hermione's book and punch Draco in the face next time they saw him. He stretched his back and stuffed his wand back in his robes. "Come on, then. Let's return to Gryffindor Tower and get some rest."
"Sleep," yawned Ron without hesitation. "Now that's an idea I can get behind."
The trio cautiously left the trophy room and started to make their way down the hall, but they were just approaching a curve in the hall when they heard footsteps coming up to them. Lantern light, faint and widespread enough that it must have been cast from a lantern at least five or ten feet away, danced on the wall ahead of them and to their left. Fear gripped Harry, Ron, and Hermione's hearts.
"Filch!" Harry rasped as quietly as possible, eyes wide in horror. "Malfoy must've alerted him that we'd be out of bed here! We need to run!"
"Where's that whacko hallway when you need it?" groaned Ron as they dashed back down the way they'd come.
Their feet pattered as softly as they dared on the cold stones of Hogwarts Castle, doors racing by them as the ran. Filch definitely saw their backs, but it was too dark for him to make out who they were. They pressed onward, hoping against hope that they'd be fast enough to escape him. They definitely seemed to be making some headway; his footsteps got softer and softer the farther they dashed, the swinging of his lantern sounding fainter and fainter. None of them dared look back, however, lest they slow themselves down or give Filch a glimpse of their faces. They made random turns, choosing paths that would hopefully get Filch off their trail. At last, when they could no longer see the dim glow of his lantern on the stone walls near them, they ducked into a classroom and closed its door behind them silently. They waited with pounding hearts.
A minute later, they heard the telltale sounds of Filch huffing and puffing past the door, which quickly faded into nothingness.
Harry let out a breath of relief. "Man, that was too close," he gasped. His heart felt like it was racing at a million kilometers per hour. "If we hadn't chosen to leave when we did, we'd have been caught by Filch."
Hermione gripped the doorknob testily. "Do you think it's safe for us to go back out and sneak off to our dorms?" she asked with cheeks flushed from the stress of the chase.
"No idea," Harry said softly. "Ron, what do you think?"
No answer.
"...Ron?"
"Guys," said Ron slowly, a quiver in his voice, "please tell me I'm imagining the yellow cat eyes staring at us from underneath that desk."
Harry and Hermione glanced over their shoulders to where Ron stood shaking, pointing at a spot nearby them. He was facing the opposite direction of the door, a cold sweat on his cheeks. Harry followed the line of his pointing... and froze as he saw exactly what Ron had described. Hermione's breath hitched, too.
She pulled out her wand quickly and held it up. "Lumos!" she intoned with perfect diction.
Immediately, the empty room was bathed in light that erupted from the tip of Hermione's wand, and they saw they were in one of the many bathrooms scattered about the castle. The desk Ron had been describing was actually a sink; they just hadn't been able to tell with all the encroaching shadows. And underneath that sink was...
"Mrs. Norris," Harry breathed in awed fear. His face paled worse than Nearly Headless Nick's.
The trio plastered themselves to the still-closed door and wall. They didn't dare move.
"W-What should we do?" Ron stammered, eyes wide. "Run?"
Hermione gulped. "She's already seen us. She'll just lead Filch to us sometime and he'll know exactly who he was chasing tonight."
Mrs. Norris stalked forward menacingly, and all three first-years made themselves as small against the walls as possible. Ron definitely didn't let out a very unmanly squeak. It was only then, as she drew ever closer, that Harry's eyes happened to catch something very unusual about her.
"Look," he rasped, pointing a trembling finger to her forehead. A fleshy bud, just like the one that Hermione had sported the previous night, erupted on Mrs. Norris's forehead. "She's got one of those weird buds, too!"
"Just great," Ron moaned. "A terrifying cat with a Stand. Could this night get any-?"
Hermione immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with equal parts disbelief and exasperation. "Haven't you read or watched any literature?" she demanded through a hiss. "You never say that in situations like these! NEVER!"
"Never thought you'd be an action book and movie nerd, too," Harry prodded, keeping a careful eye on Mrs. Norris, who still was menacingly approaching them.
"Now is not the time!" Hermione shot him an embarrassed glare.
"I don't see you denying it."
Their bickering was put to a halt, however, by Filch's beloved cat, her dust-colored fur shining in the wandlight, baring her teeth and glowing in a disturbing, blue light. As they all watched in horror, from her body and flowing above it stretched a large Stand the size of a normal human. It had a cat's head and paws in place of hands. Its skin and fur was the same color as Mrs. Norris's.
"I-It's just a cat - we've got this," Harry gulped.
Hermione shook. "Oh, I am going to kill Malfoy for this."
"NYA NYA NYA NYA NYA!" the cat-headed Stand bellowed as it rushed forward and flung a flurry of punches at them. It was quite slower than Roundabout, but had the advantage of freaking claws protruding from its fists!
"[Roundabout]!" Harry shouted, readjusting his glasses with his middle and third fingers.
"ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA!"
All of the part-cat Stand's punches were knocked away by Roundabout's fists, which swung at lightning speed. Mrs. Norris winced at the connection of Roundabout and her Stand. Ron swallowed, then took the chance of Harry distracting its Stand to form his own.
"[Two Towers]! Take out Mrs. Norris!"
The green-skinned man faded into existence in front of Ron and leaped into the fray. It swung the mightiest punch it could muster at the thrice-damned cat. Just as it was barreling down, though -
"Ron, stop!" Hermione shouted, eyes wide. "You're not attacking Mrs. Norris! You're...!"
It was too late. Ron thought Two Towers's fist connected with Mrs. Norris, but suddenly the world from his Stand's point of view shifted. Two Towers found itself punching the side of Harry's head, instead! Horror rose up in him. How!? He'd aimed directly at Mrs. Norris!
"HARRY!" gasped a terrified Hermione and Ron.
There was the sickening crunch of knuckles against skull, and Harry was blasted into the air and into one of the stalls of the bathroom. He landed haphazardly on a toilet. His elbow crashed into the flusher, and the sound of rushing water filled the area. Roundabout faded from view.
"M-Merlin's beard," Ron gasped. Two Towers turned back to Mrs. Norris and her Stand, raising its fists in preparation to fight them. "Just what on Earth is her ability! I... I thought I was attacking her, but then suddenly I saw Harry and couldn't stop myself in time!"
"No," Hermione said softly, narrowing her eyes as she brought out Final Problem. "It's not that... You were attacking Harry the whole time."
"WHAT!? Impossible!"
Over in his stall, Harry tried to lift himself up, but fell back limply. His head bounced with a rough ding against the metal pipes that attached his toilet to the wall. Ron winced and looked at his hands in horror.
"[T-Two Towers] isn't that strong in a Stand fight," he said. His voice cracked. "Physically, i-it's weaker than a lot of others. But... against a Stand user alone..."
Hermione bit her lip. "Harry will be fine," she said. A dangerous glare shifted into focus in her eyes, and she cracked her knuckles as she faced Mrs. Norris again. "Right now, though, we need to work on defeating... whatever Stand power she has."
"NYA NYA NYA NYA NYA NYA NYA!"
Mrs. Norris was rushing at them again, trying to get as much speed as she could. Her Stand's fists rushed through the air, but Hermione took up Harry's place before, blocking it all with her Final Problem's speed. Meanwhile, Ron carefully looked into its owner's eyes. What kind of ability did Mrs. Norris have? What was she planning with it...?
Having gained the upper hand in speed, Hermione smirked.
"Alright, you mythical monster!" she declared, twisting her back and crossing her arms. "I've got it now. Punch it, [Final Problem]!"
Final Problem also smirked eagerly as it drew its fist back for a mighty punch, aimed at the enemy Stand's midsection.
Two lines of thought shot through Ron's mind from his connection with Mrs. Norris's eyes. His own optical orbs widened in horror. "Hermione, no, wait! Don't punch-!"
"DUMMY!"
"Gyaaah!"
Ron felt himself get blasted backwards, his stomach aching in pain. The door itself crumbled to bits as he smashed through it, and he bounded off one of the walls in the empty hall outside. He landed on the floor, shaking. Hermione stood in the now-empty doorframe in horror.
"H-How...?" She gaped with pale cheeks and a slackened jaw at Ron, who was struggling to get to his feet. "I thought I was aiming at Mrs. Norris's Stand..."
"It's... h-her power..." Ron choked, clutching his stomach. He supported himself with a knee against the ground and a palm holding him up. His whole body flared in pain. "Her power...! I saw it, just as you were attacking. I t-tried to warn you..." He coughed weakly. "Her Stand power... is the ability to automatically shift any attacks made at either her or her Stand to a nearby friend of the attacker, or if none are conscious or nearby, to the attacker! If a Stand tries to punch her Stand, it will find itself punching a friend or its S-Stand user!"
Hermione's eyes bugged out of her head. "WHAT!? But that's...! That's ridiculous!"
"WATCH OUT, HERMIONE!" Ron yelled suddenly, and Two Towers was summoned around him. It shot forward and blocked a swipe of Mrs. Norris's Stand's claws that had been meant for Hermione's head, since she'd been turning her back to it.
Hermione flinched, but frowned as she didn't feel any knockback. "I didn't feel anything from that!" she told Ron, spinning back around to glare at the enemy Stand. "Are you sure that's her power?"
"P-Positive! The only reason you d-didn't feel me suddenly attack you... was because that wasn't a m-movement made with the intent to hurt! That's her Stand's weakness!"
Hermione took a step back through the empty door frame as Mrs. Norris made her Stand send another powerful flurry of swipes at her. Final Problem blocked them all, but she was losing ground. "Still," Hermione grunted, swallowing a nervous pit in her throat, "that's a ridiculously overpowered ability... how are we supposed to fight against something like that?"
Ron, still just barely holding himself up on the floor, gulped. "We're not. It's impossible!"
Mrs. Norris again stalked forward, eyes blazing yellow.
Her Stand leaped forward, arms flailing at Hermione. "NYA NYA NYA NYA NYA!"
Final Problem grunted and flew into action. "DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY DUMMY!"
"H-Hermione!" Ron whimpered as his newest friend and fellow crusader was forced to solely defend against the many punches and swipes of claws. "Hermione! There's nothing we can do! Just run!"
"Nothing we can do?" Hermione grunted as Mrs. Norris landed a lucky swipe on Final Problem's arm. "You said that it had to be an attack done with the intent to hurt, right?"
Ron blinked away tears that had started to form in his eyes. "Y-Yeah. Why?"
"If that's the case... cover her Stand for me, please!"
Hermione suddenly ran forward into the bathroom, past where Mrs. Norris's Stand and Final Problem were locked in their rush. The cat with the dust-grey fur tilted its head at her with what almost could've been a cautious frown adorning its face. She raced over to the sink, called back Final Problem, and smashed the sink to pieces with it. Ron blinked, then commanded Two Towers to keep Mrs. Norris and her abilities in check. Water flowed over the floor from the now-broken pipes, but Hermione paid her suddenly soaked shoes and feet no attention. Instead, she let out a furious howl as Final Problem rushed to pick up all the metal shards left over from Hermione smashing the sink, and throw them as hard as possible at the different stalls.
"If that's the case," Hermione said again, her smirk growing wider and more confident, "then that means that attacks that come randomly at it, especially from objects that can't think, won't fall under her powers!"
Little diamonds and flat shards of porcelain sink ricocheted off the stalls, fired at speeds of bullets from Final Problem's hands. Mrs Norris nervously eyed them as they knocked about everywhere. A couple even bounced back to Hermione and cut up the sides of her legs, making her draw a pained gasp. But she stood her ground, pointing and smirking right at the brainwashed cat.
Mrs. Norris backed up, her hair on end. Her Stand faded from existence, and Two Towers waited a moment before doing the same.
Ron watched nervously. Would any of the broken shards hit their enemy?
Seven horrible seconds passed, the shards dinging off of the floor, off of the ceiling, off of a lamp that hung overhead.
And, then, finally, one lodged itself deep into the cat's back.
-TO BE CONTINUED-
Stand: In Parenthesis (named for In Parenthesis by David Jones, a war novel with major themes of betrayal)
Stand user: Mrs. Norris
Ability: Any attacks with the intent to injure that are done to either In Parenthesis or Mrs. Norris will instead shift to one of the attacker's nearby friends. If the attacker has no conscious friends nearby, the attacks will shift to the attacker instead.
Stats:
Destructive Power: varies
Speed: C
Precision: A
Range: A
Durability: B
Developmental Potential: E
