Harry was feeling pretty good about his life these days. He had great friends, a great family, and he was interested in almost all of his classes. Last year, he had felt very apprehensive about coming to Hogwarts. He knew that as The Boy Who Lived, he would attract a lot of attention. Getting attention, whether negative or positive seemed to be his whole life story. He would have preferred not getting any attention at all, but on the day that Lord Voldemort had marked him and left the scar on his forehead, that choice was taken out of his hands.
Harry's first year had been hard. He had already been nervous about it, and Sirius had been pouring stories in his ear about how horrible Snivellus was. He remembered the moment when his name had been called at the Sorting Feast, all eyes in the Hall had turned to him. He had longed to just turn tail and run away, but he forced himself to go forwards and face his fate.
He had been happy to have been sorted into Gryffindor. It was the same house as his parents, and Sirius. Plus, his friend Neville and the nice girl he had met on the train, Hermione had been sorted into Gryffindor. The hat had spent a while, debating whether or not to sort him into Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, but he had thought to himself 'Please let it be Gryffindor, please let it be Gryffindor!' When the Hat had called 'Gryffindor,' Harry had felt a burst of relief and joy.
Harry had assumed that being sorted with his friends boded well for the year ahead, but he turned out to be terribly wrong. Snape had hated him almost from the start, and his constant antagonizing attitude had turned many of the Gryffindors against him. Worst of the lot were Seamus, Dean and Ron, who seemed to make it their life's goal to antagonize him at every turn.
Thus, when the second school year rolled around, Harry had been less than excited about it. September had been about as bad as he expected it to be. Snape maliciously tormented him - Seamus and his friends relentlessly bullied him. There was never a moment he really felt safe.
To help him cope, he threw himself into his school work, spending almost all his free time reading or studying. Harry supposed that all his efforts explained why late September and all of October were a complete blur in his memory. He felt like he couldn't really even remember what he had been doing that month. But whatever it was, his grades had certainly never been better. Somehow, he even managed to improve in the practical component of potions. He always knew he had the capability, and he supposed his hard work and studying paid off.
By the time Hallowe'en rolled around, it seemed like all his problems had vanished. He couldn't pinpoint when it had happened, but it was as though his anxiety had just melted away. Potions became easier, and when it became easier, Snape no longer had a reason to attack him. Snape still obviously disliked him - Harry was hardly oblivious to the hostile stares from the potion master's black eyes. But there was nothing Snape could do against him - not when his potions turned out so well, and he answered all of Snape's questions correctly in class. Plus, Harry had never been one to create trouble outside of class, even if trouble did sometimes find him. Once Snape's attentions were elsewhere, (namely on Seamus and his friends), the other Gryffindors seemed to relax towards him. He was no longer the odd duck who flinched at his own shadow, as Seamus would have said. In fact, many of the Gryffindors even seemed to like him. As an added bonus, he stopped having nightmares.
Harry's mind turned to an incident he had with Seamus and his friends just a few days ago - if it could really even be called an incident. He had been walking through the corridors at the time - Neville and Hermione were in the library, and he had stepped out to use the bathroom. On his way back, he was turning a corner when he felt his legs tangling beneath him as he was hit by the tripping jinx. His hands instinctively flew out in front of him, and he caught himself as he hit the floor. It was a good thing he wasn't holding any books, or he may have instinctively tried to protect the books instead.
Pushing himself back up on his feet, he looked behind him, he saw Seamus, Dean and Ron snickering with amusement. One would think that they'd get tired of using the tripping jinx by now, but clearly, their simple mind still found it as entertaining as ever. Harry supposed that it was fortunate that they rarely ever attempted nastier jinxes or hexes. But considering Seamus and his friends' lack of finesse, the moment they tried a more dangerous hex would probably be the same moment a teacher came across their path. They had the typical Gryffindor luck of walking straight into trouble. It was fortunate then, for Harry that his main school rivals (if one could even call Seamus a rival), was not a Slytherin.
Seeing Seamus and his friends snickering at him, Harry pulled his wand out, and in the moment of excitement (perhaps it was the adrenaline rush?) he issued a hex, aimed straight for Seamus. Oddly, for the life of him, he couldn't remember what he even said (and he wish he could remember, because it was a pretty neat hex). But then, Seamus started clutching his nose as yellowish pus squirted out of his nose, leaving a gooey mess on his robes.
"Uugh! Gross, mate!" Ron had said, recoiling from his friend with a look of horror. Dean, whose lip was also curled with disgust looked away from his friend and when his gaze alighted upon Harry, he gave him a look that was a mix between bewildered and appraising. Seamus had opened his mouth to speak (did he want to insult Harry? Curse him?) But Seamus changed his mind in an instant, when the yellow ooze dribbled into his mouth, and his face turned green with revulsion and nausea.
"Let's take him to the infirmary," Dean said softly, pulling his attention away from Harry, and the strange gleam of resolution in Harry's eyes. Ron nodded. Harry slowly lowered his wand when it was clear that neither Ron nor Dean planned to retaliate on behalf of their pus-covered friend.
"Ugh! Don't turn your head towards me! I don't want your snot all over me!" Ron yelped, as he grabbed one of Seamus's arms. Both Ron and Dean had shot Harry a look before then pulled their friend towards the Hospital wing. Curiously, it wasn't a hostile look - if anything, there might have been a grudging respect on their faces. Harry didn't give it much thought But since that day, Seamus and his friends had given him a wide berth.
Harry had to admit, he felt so - confident! He didn't know when the feeling arose, and didn't question it. But he felt like he could take on the world. More than that, he almost felt like if he wished to, he could hold the world in the palm of his hand. He need only reach for it.
The only thing that seemed to mar his otherwise great life was that his sleeping habits seemed to be out of balance. He often woke up after a night of sleep and felt as though he hadn't gotten any rest. Sometimes, he'd find himself asleep at the library, and then wake up, feeling confused about the books he had in front of him. Most of the books seemed to be recent history books - stories about the past few decades. Many of the books related to himself, or to He Who Must Not Be Named, or to recent war. He didn't recall ever taking out those books, so he assumed that other students had left them there.
Once, he even fell asleep at the library, and then later woke up in a different part of the castle. Hermione was convinced that he was studying too hard, and Harry supposed that she was right.
Even Rosie kept giving him weird glances, and asking him questions. Some of the questions didn't even make sense. He thought back to a recent conversation that he had had with her.
"Harry," Rosie said her hazel-green eyes boring into his own. "How do you know Toby?"
"Toby?"
"Toby Woodbridge. He's Ravenclaw, fourth year."
"The one who is supposedly a genius?" Harry asked, and then added under his breath "But I think Hermione is even smarter."
"Yes, the one who is supposedly a genius. I saw you talking to him in one of the corridors," Rosie kept looking at him in such a searching way. If she wasn't his sister, he would have been unnerved.
"I don't think I've ever spoken to Toby before," Harry replied. "Are you sure it was me you saw?"
"Are you implying that I wouldn't even recognize my own brother?" Rosie replied, affronted.
"Okay, okay, nevermind. Are you sure it was Toby you saw?"
Rosie furrowed her brow. "I'm pretty sure. Though not a hundred percent sure."
"Why are you asking about Toby anyway?"
Rosie's expression was troubled. "I just don't trust him. It's his fault that Luna - Well - he's a bully. Except he's the kind of bully that never does his own dirty work."
Harry wrinkled his nose. "Sounds like a real prat. I don't think I'd ever want to associate with someone like that."
"I didn't think so," Rosie murmured, but instead of being reassured, she looked more troubled than ever. She was silent for a moment.
"You look tired, Harry," she finally said. "Is everything okay?"
"I think so. I'm probably just studying too hard. I keep falling asleep in the library," Harry laughed sheepishly. Rosie's lips twitched at the corners.
"Do you remember how, when you were a kid, you used to always fall asleep in that big armchair in the parlour with a book on your lap?" Rosie laughed, feeling a wave of nostalgia. "Sometimes it seemed like you slept more there than in your own bed."
Harry grinned. "Well, Hogwarts as good a place as any to continue the tradition."
"I'm surprised Neville and Hermione haven't commented on you sleeping in the library though - wouldn't they try and wake you up?"
Harry furrowed his brow has he considered her words. "They're probably too nice to do that. I mean, they're always telling me I work too hard."
Rosie grinned. "The hat should have sorted you into Hufflepuff. Or Ravenclaw, with me!"
"Ha! Could you imagine Sirius's reaction if I had been a 'Puff?"
"The Hufflepuffs are nice! You would have done well there!" Rosie replied, defending the Badger House.
"Well, the Gryffindors are also nice," Harry responded. Rosie gave him a look.
"They're nice now," he added with a note of defenciveness.
"Conditionally nice. Only because you're doing well in potions now, so they have no reason to bully you." Rosie's expression was stubborn, with a hint of anger that hardened her eyes. Harry shrugged.
"Well, I'm happy."
Rosie sighed. "I am glad you're happy Harry. And I'm glad you're doing as well in potions as I knew you would. I just wish I could figure out why I keep feeling this blackness in our link."
"Oh, Rosie," Harry said with sympathy. He pulled her into a hug. "It must be hard, sensing something your whole life, and then having it fading away. I'm sorry."
Rosie hugged him back. "I don't like it Harry," she said, her voice muffled by his school robes.
"I know," he said. But just because you can't feel me, it doesn't mean that I'm not there for you. You're my sister!"
"I know," Rosie replied with a sigh. They pulled apart awkwardly. They were starting to get too old for hugs, but Rosie had to admit, sometimes hugs were still nice.
"How are your studies with Madam Pomfrey going?" Harry asked her, to distract her.
"It's really interesting! She has me coming into the Hospital wing every Tuesday and Friday evening, and I get to watch her. I haven't started on any of the healing spells yet, but soon, she's going to have me starting with the Episkey spell on small cuts." Rosie continued on, chattering with bright enthusiasm, and Harry listened to her with interest. Her excitement filled him with a vicarious sort of happiness, and he found himself thinking once again that yes, life was good.
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Harry's mood seemed to be so buoyant and light that Rosie's thoughts began to turn away from him and the darkness of their link. Instead, she focused on Luna and the bullying issues. Rosie was dismayed that Luna's situation was not getting any better. While she had been distracted by Harry's issues, as well as being preoccupied with healing lessons, she felt that she had begun to neglect her friend. However, her lack of attention was not deliberate. Luna's possessions continued to go missing, and while Luna seemed to maintain her equanimity, Rosie found the situation intolerable. She had considered confronting Toby several times. Mentally, she scripted several scenarios in her head for how she wanted to deal with him. Most of the time, she just wanted to hex him until he was on his knees, begging Luna's forgiveness.
The only thing that held her back was that as Luna's friend, any action she took against Toby could result in backlash that would only hurt Luna further. She wished that she could take all the negative attention that was directed towards Luna and shoulder the burden herself. Luna was such a gentle spirit that it seemed to be a gross injustice for so much animosity to fall on her shoulders.
Though Rom always helped to find Luna's lost belongings, he never seemed particularly bothered by interpersonal interactions. If he was at all troubled by the student's bullying Luna, he never showed it. She had tried asking his opinion once for how to help Luna. He had only shrugged in response, and said: "In the wild, the weak don't last long." It was decidedly unhelpful, and she had stormed off in a huff.
What Rosie found particularly distressing was that the situation only seemed to be getting worse. Already, most of the students at Hogwarts were calling Luna "Loony." Meanwhile, many of the Ravenclaws seemed be in competition to see who could make life the most difficult for Luna. Rosie and Luna were constantly finding small creatures like insects and frogs in Luna's clothes. Since Luna seemed to have a strong affinity for all animals, this never particularly bothered her.
Occasionally, Luna's belongings would be tampered with, with charms created to make Luna's possessions unusable. Her textbooks would be charmed so that they wouldn't open (but Rosie always shared her textbooks with Luna), or her clothes would be charmed so that insulting or offensive words flashed brightly across her clothes. Rosie and Luna also found that they had to frequently dodge stray dungbombs that got thrown their way. They never found out who the culprits were, but Rosie was depressingly sure that there were too many culprits to count.
However, it was when Ravenclaws started trying to hex Luna that she finally had the last straw. Luna and Rosie managed to dodge most of the few hexes thrown their way, but Rosie was incensed that any students would dare to go so far as to attack. She was going to have a word with Toby. She didn't care if he tried to ruin her life as well as Luna's. Toby had to be taken down.
One day, after Luna and Rosie had both been hexed by the tripping jinx (which fortunately, didn't cause much harm, but the students in the hall had snickered with amusement), Rosie had stormed up to the Ravenclaw common room in a simmering rage. She didn't even check to see if Luna was following behind her. All she could think about was how much she hated Toby for his horrible, spiteful behaviour. True, he had never once said another word to Luna since that fateful day, but she knew that he was at the heart of all of Luna's troubles. It was an unspoken part of the Ravenclaw culture - the most intelligent of them all had the most power. That, and Toby and his friends were good-looking, which always helped when one was surrounded by teenagers.
The common room was fairly full - it was late afternoon and many of the students had finished their classes for the day. However, Rosie disregarded all the other students. To her, the only person in the room seemed to be Toby. He was sitting in his usual chair, leaning back in a relaxed pose. His elbow was on the armrest, and his chin was resting against his knuckles with a casual grace. His friends Samir and Christopher seemed to be relating an anecdote, and a slight, but cold smile tugged at Toby's lips.
Marietta and Sarah kept peeking over at Toby in a way that lacked any subtlety, while Cho was reading a book. Romulus was sitting in his usual seat by the window, and though he had been reading, he lowered the book, and followed Rosie with his eyes. Her body language was extremely tense, and anger seemed to pour off her in waves. However, when he noticed where her eyes were fixed, he felt only a horrible sense of sickness in his gut - the way a wolf might feel when it watched one of its pack members facing off with a bear. Had the girl gone completely daft?
Rosie strode over to Toby's 'territory' and stopped at the edge of the coffee table, looking down at him with a frigid coldness. Noticing her presence, Toby glanced towards her, and his eyebrow raised, ever so slightly. There was no tension in him. He seemed completely unperturbed by her rage, though in truth, Rosie was usually good at keeping her emotions under control.
"Woodbridge," she said coldly. He was no friend of her's and she refused to call him by his given name. Toby scanned her face, before smiling, one of his usual fake smiles that tended to cause girls like Marietta to fall into states of rapture. But Rosie was unaffected. She refused to let someone like Toby Woodbridge get the best of her.
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Toby looked up with mild curiosity at the dark-haired first year that was glaring at him with eyes like ice chips. Christopher had been relaying some of his thoughts about the upcoming Quidditch season, and potential new maneuvers. Something about how the angle of his body, and the charms in the particular model of broom would affect the velocity and sharpness of his turns. Christopher had done the calculations in History of Magic (and truth be told, History of Magic was an excellent time to work on - well - anything else). He had also drawn up detailed diagrams, as well as some additional calculations factoring in the wind speed and the wind resistance from his robes. It was fairly interesting - frankly, without Christopher's insight, Toby would have a lot less interest in Quidditch.
However, Christopher had fallen silent as the little first year drew near. For the most part, Toby, Samir and Christopher were used to be approached by the other students. Not usually when they were lounging in their own personal corner of the Nest. But they were frequently answering questions and tutoring the other Eagles. It was part of their image - their intellectual mastery. Knowledge was currency and power in the Ravenclaw Nest. As such, Toby and his friends were sovereign. Not that Toby was particularly power hungry - if that were the case, he would have been better off in Slytherin. It was just that being at the top gave one a better view, and Toby liked to think that he could see further (and deeper) than most.
Though Primrose's features were even, Toby could tell that she was holding in a bubbling cauldron of anger. Did she think that she was hiding her emotions well? Perhaps better than a Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, but really - her eyes gave her away. Christopher was looking mildly put out that his story had been interrupted. Samir, with his heart as soft as warm butter, was looking worried. Frankly, if Samir hadn't been his childhood friend, he would long ago tried to turn that softness into something else - something jagged-edged and cold. But for some reason, he found that he couldn't do it. Not yet, anyway.
He had seen Primrose's face before - she was the only friend to that little blonde first year who had dared to sit in his seat. Not only that, she was the little sister of the Boy Who Lived. Harry Potter was an interesting character - with a past like his, how could he not be? And really, most people were so incredibly boring. It was nice for the school to have a little celebrity with such a delightfully dark and troubled history. After all, the Dark Lord had tried to murder him as a baby, and his parents were in the nut house. A history like that could really do things to twist a person's mind and heart up. But Toby wasn't the sort of person to assume that just because one sibling was interesting, that the other would be as well. Little Miss Potter carried herself in a way that wasn't at all like how Harry carried himself. Frankly, she seemed a lot more ordinary, and therefore, not worthy of inspection.
Toby hadn't really gotten to know Harry Potter in the previous year. He didn't really have a reason to approach the messy-haired firstie last year. When Toby had initially heard that Harry Potter would be a student at Hogwarts, he was expecting either great strength or great fragility - probably a combination of both. But as he observed the first year, it was evident from the boy's body language that he leaned closer towards fragility. For the most part, Toby just observed from a distance. To liven things up, he would sometimes make bets with Samir and Christopher. In this case, the bet was: How long before the Boy Who Lived breaks?
But then, something changed, and Toby was soon aware that the bets were off. If Harry Potter was mildly interesting last year, he was very interesting now. The fragility was fast vanishing, and in its place, was something deliciously dark. It gave Toby thrills of pleasure to think about it. Not so much the darkness, but the wonderfully unpredictable turn of events. Most people craved the security of a foreseeable future. But not Toby. He preferred chaos, any day.
The sister of Harry Potter was another story. In all honesty, Toby had had no intention of getting to know the girl. She seemed like so many other Ravenclaws - studious, hungry for knowledge, well-mannered goody-goods. Sure, many of the Eagles were able to hold more interesting conversations than most of the other students. But 'more interesting' was relative to 'incredibly boring.'
Nonetheless, she was bolder than most Ravenclaws for daring to confront him. And he could see that she was anticipating an attack. As much as Toby hated predictability, he also hated being predictable. It wouldn't do for anyone to think that they could guess Toby's next actions (other than guessing that he would receive excellent grades). It felt mildly insulting to have to deal with a hot-tempered firstie. There were so many better entertainments. Still, maybe he could make the most of it, and have a little fun. No harm in having a new toy to play with.
"What can I do for you?" Toby asked, his keeping voice smooth and melodic. He was aware of the hush that had come over the other Ravenclaws. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to turn this into a little spectacle. Plus, it was mildly flattering, to see the way that the other Eagles leaned in, trying to catch his every word. He could see why Slytherins were so attracted to power. But as amusing as power was, knowledge was even more interesting.
"Tell your little minions to leave Luna alone," miss Potter replied. Childish bravery, Toby thought. Is that the best she has? Still, it was a bit funny. The other Eagles were like minions, weren't they? As easy to read as the books they so worshipped. At least his minions were smart. Sometimes.
"Luna?" Toby replied, while he pretended to 'remember' who Luna was. Of course, in truth, with his memory, he knew the names of all the Ravenclaws. Nothing escaped his notice in this house. But he liked to pretend to forget things sometimes. It made others think that he was like them - normal. Human. It meant that others let their guard down, so that Toby could slip into the cracks, and pull out the bits of information he desired. Assuming there was anything interesting to discover.
"Ah, the whimsical little first year." Toby suddenly stood up in a fluid motion, and the room seemed to collectively inhale. He could so easily tug at their emotions. For all that they liked to pretend to be cerebral, they could be just as emotional as any Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. With his height, Toby towered over the dark-haired first year. It never hurt to make use of one's physical presence to affect others. But in this case, he wasn't planning to use the advantage of height. He had other things in mind. The little Potter maintained eye contact, looking up at him coldly. She lifted her chin up the slightest degree, and gave him a look that any pureblood wizard worth their salt would recognize: a look that spoke of pride, certainty and fearlessness. It was kind of cute. Like a fluffy lap dog trying to go against a moon wolf.
The thought of it made Toby smile, and he made no effort to reign in his expression. He tried not to smile too openly, too often. At least, not genuine smiles. It had a tendency to daze people, making them weak and soft in the head. It made things too easy. Toby was aware of the power of appearances. He just didn't want to rely on it too often. But, in this case, it might be a good lesson for an innocent little Eaglet. She was expecting insults, so why not confuse her senses with something else. Something kinder. The little Potter's eyes widened slightly, and there was a flash of uncertain fear. Good. At least she was smart enough to know that she was out of her depth. But it never hurt to stamp that message harder into her psyche.
He bent over, resting his hands lightly on his knees, so that he was at eye-level with her. His face was inches away from hers, but she did not back away. It was good that she was willing to pretend to be brave. It meant that this wouldn't be too boring for him. This close to her, he could see the flecks of green and yellow in her hazel eyes. He felt like chuckling. He liked seeing the emotions in the hazel depths. Confusion, uncertainty. The moment of awareness when she realized that this was more than she could handle. And the way she held herself firm, and refused to back away, even though her instincts were screaming at her to run.
"You're adorable," he said, his voice warm like honey and rich with amusement. The young Potter's eyes widened and her nostrils flared. Mm - yes. A little more fear now. It was evident that she had steeled herself for insults. But she hadn't created a shield against this.
"What's your game, Woodbridge?" the girl asked.
'Your innocent little mind,' he thought. Instead, he said: "Game?" His voice was light, his eyes, to the uninitiated would have seemed clear and guileless. Little Potter narrowed her eyes at him.
"Don't play dumb with me. I don't buy your act. I'm not like the rest of your worshippers. I see you for who you are." Ah, at least the girl had her false bravado to fall back on - perhaps she should have been sorted into Gryffindor like her amusing brother.
"Oh? And who am I, little Eaglet?" Toby asked. He wasn't particularly curious. He could see the dislike in her flashing eyes, and the way her hands were tightened into fists.
"You're a bully," Primrose said, her voice flat. "A small-minded, cruel-hearted bully who can't even do his own dirty work. And a fake at that." He had been expecting something like this, and wondered at the intelligence of someone who would announce such a thing in front of all his so-called 'minions.' The Ravenclaws in the common room all seemed to gasp in shock. He could sense their indignation on his behalf. It made him want to sigh. It wasn't as though her assessment was inaccurate - frankly, he knew he could be a bully. If he didn't have people's lives to mess with, he'd have died of boredom long ago. But if they were his minions, at least they were loyal. He wondered how well the little firstie would take their attacks.
Toby didn't bother to straighten up, and take advantage of his towering height. He just examined her face, unable to help the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He didn't exactly want the other Ravenclaws to tear her apart. Something like that would end the game prematurely. But at the same time, it wouldn't hurt to test her mettle.
"You wound me, little one." Well, the true wound was that she couldn't match him for wits. But most people couldn't. He was used to it.
"Do you even have anything to wound?" the little Potter retorted. She seemed angry. At him? At her own weakness? Perhaps both.
"Of course," he replied with airy lightness. Uncomfortable with his position, he straightened, and then sat with casual grace on the arm of his chair, so that his gaze could remain level with hers. He still wore his hint of a smile. He knew he couldn't entirely keep the mockery from his expression, but then again, why hide it? They were silent for a moment, examining one another.
"This is ridiculous," she said finally, trying to grasp the reins, "What matters is how everyone in this house is treating Luna. I want it to stop. Now."
"Hmm." What to do next? He could see that she would be easy to fluster, but at the same time, he didn't want to make this all about her. It could prove to be amusing to tangle up the minds of the other Ravenclaws as well. He felt no real hesitation about turning on the other Ravenclaws. Other Houses might value unity and loyalty, but here at Ravenclaw, strength was in one's wits. If he meant to remain unpredictable, he might as well try something that he hadn't before.
""Alright," he drawled with honey smoothness. "I'll see to it that the Ravenclaws leave your friend alone. If-"
"If what?" Primrose asked. She looked nervous, but determined.
"If-" Toby said with lazy amusement, "you kiss me. Right here." He turned his face, and pointed to his cheek, and his smile as he looked at her was playful, daring, with that touch of unfathomable irony. In all honesty, he didn't particularly care to be touched. But as much as he disliked it, he could tell that she would hate it more. Especially having to touch him. Plus, it would probably confound his poor little 'minions.' This could be fun.
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Rosie was frozen in shock. She couldn't help thinking that Toby was terrible - really very terrible. She was accustomed to the straightforward ways of Harry and Sirius. They would play and tease - but this was different. Toby was playing, but the game was beyond her depth, and she didn't like it. Unbeknownst to her, many of the females in Ravenclaw, but especially Marietta and Sarah were smoldering with indignation mixed with a burning hot jealousy. 'How dare that little upstart first year!' they thought. 'How dare she approach Toby, and speak as if she were his equal. I'm going to rip that little bitch to pieces.' And yet, at the same time, they were filled with yearning. Some small part of them thought 'I wish I was her. I wish I was in that position' and they only hated themselves for thinking that way.
As for Rosie, she knew she had to act. She felt sick to her stomach but Toby was looking at her expectantly. The whole common room was dead silent. Feeling as stiff as a board, she took a step forward and leaned in, brushing her lips against his cheek before pulling away, as though stung. Rosie's expression was angry but controlled. He had made her kiss him, and yet, she was the one who felt violated. Toby gave her a lazy smile.
"Thank you, little Eaglet. I imagine that everyone will leave Luna alone from now on." Toby straightened up, and just when she thought her ordeal was over, he reached over and ruffled her hair in a horrible parody of affection.
"I'll see you around, little one," Toby said with a warm laugh in his voice. Nodding once, Rosie pursed her lips and then turned away, heading up into the sanctuary of her dorm. Toby watched her every step as she departed. As for Rosie, she imagined that before long, her dorm room would no longer be a sanctuary any more.
Toby was as good as his word. Though the rest of the students in Hogwarts still called Luna 'Loony,' (It was too catchy to forget) the Ravenclaws had ceased their attack upon Luna. This was, in part, because Rosie had decided to draw their fire towards herself. If looks could kill, she would have already died a thousand times over. Marietta and Sarah especially seemed to look at her as though they were mentally saying the Cruciatus torture curse over and over in their heads.
Luna had appeared vaguely troubled by the situation. Though she sometimes could be oblivious to what was going on around her, she knew that Rosie had done something to try and help her. Luna hated to see her friend in trouble, but she did not know what to do. As for Romulus, his reaction was startling. Soon after the incident with Toby in the common room (which he had witnessed with horror), Romulus had grabbed Rosie by the arm during one of their free periods. He had yanked her up multiple flights of stairs and along the corridors without explanation. He pulled her to the left and stopped in a long corridor. All she could see was a large tapestry of what looked like Trolls with their hands above their heads. On top of that they had a single leg held at an awkward angle in the air. Romulus had released her arm was pacing the corridor back and forth.
Suddenly, a door appeared opposite the Tapestry. Romulus pulled open the door, and reaching for her, he pulled her into the room.
She looked around the room - if it could be called that. It just looked like another corridor, and she could see a doorway and a turn further up ahead.
Romulus shut the door behind them and turned to face Rosie. He crossed his arms, and his eyes had an icy rage in them.
"What in Merlin's name is wrong with you?" he said, his voice almost an angry hiss. "What were you thinking, confronting Woodbridge?"
Rosie scowled at him. "Luna is my friend. I wasn't just going to let the rest of the Ravenclaws keep attacking her. I had to do something!"
"Doing something doesn't mean you have to turn all the eyes of the Ravenclaws on yourself! You could have learned to better protect yourself and your friend. You could have trained yourself!" Romulus huffed in frustration. "Do you have any idea what position you've put yourself in?"
"As a matter of fact, I do!" Rosie replied frostily, though in truth, she felt much more lost than she cared to admit. "You really think I'm someone who is going to slink around in the shadows while my friend gets hurt?"
Romulus's eyes narrowed. "What are you suggesting? That I'm a coward? That all I do is slink in the shadows?" His expression was cold and dangerous.
Rosie sighed angrily and looked away. "No. No, I know you're not. It's just - Luna, you know? I had to do something. Besides, who are you to lecture me on what I can or can't do?"
"Who am I? Can't you tell when someone is trying to look out for you?"
Rosie's eyes widened as she considered what Romulus was saying. This was the closest he had ever been to suggesting that they were actually friends. Wanting to set the animosity aside, Rosie looked away from him, and examined her surroundings instead.
"What is this place anyway?" she asked.
"This is the Come and Go Room," he said. "The House Elves told me about it. You have put yourself-" Romulus paused and frowned.
"I don't know what kind of moon-madness was going through your mind when you did that, but you've put yourself in a lot of danger. I've asked this room to appear like a maze - like the corridors of our school. You are going to train here. The room has created golems that will try and attack you. I trust that you've educated yourself about hexes and jinxes?"
Rosie nodded. Like Romulus, she read up on offensive and defensive magic while suffering through Professor Lockhart's class. She had also read all about curses and jinxes back at Grimmauld place, thanks to the extensive number of books on the topic. "But - I haven't actually tried a lot of the hexes."
Romulus nodded. "I expected as such. The golems will chase you then, but they will not actually attack. That will come later. Well. Go on."
Rosie looked at Romulus questioningly and then looked along the length of the corridor/maze.
"Learn by doing," Romulus said simply. "If you don't move, then I'll hex you. Now Go. Go!" Rosie's eyes widened, and she dashed down the corridor, turning a corner, and then turning another. Before long, she was disoriented and had lost her sense of direction.
The golems that chased her were unexpectedly unpredictable. Some were noisy with obvious footsteps, some were quiet. Rosie tried multiple jinxes and hexes for the first time in her life. Many of them misfired or failed on the first attempt. Some that worked were rather dramatic (like the one that blasted one of the golem's to smithereens). Some seemingly had no effect.
Though she knew that the golems would not attack her, it was still set her heart racing, to be chased and hunted down like a hare. Throughout her entire session, she didn't even catch sight of Romulus once.
During the short lulls, when she felt that she had moment to catch her breath, she wondered if she would be trapped in this maze forever. How did this room even work, anyway? Was she only allowed out once she found the exit? But before she could finish her train of thoughts, a golem had snuck up on her. She almost squealed in surprise and managed to throw a tripping jinx at it before she dashed away, turning one corner, and then opening one of the doors that led to - well, more corridors.
However, after an hour, the corridor walls eventually disappeared. Romulus had planned the room that way, so that the situation that worried Rosie (being trapped in a maze forever) wouldn't happen. She found herself standing in an empty rectangular room, and across the way, still standing by the door was Romulus, his arms crossed, and his expression, evaluating.
"You survived," he said. Rosie frowned, through her heavy breaths.
"Were you not expecting me to survive? You said the golems wouldn't attack!" Romulus simply smirked.
"We'll meet here every Friday and Sunday at 3o'clock," he ordered. Rosie nodded in response. Though Romulus's words and methods were harsh, she knew that he was acting as a friend.
A/N: I appreciate the reviews (and constructive criticism)! I've been having such mixed feelings about this story lately. I keep going back and revising bits of it. It's driving me kinda crazy.
