Chapter 12
The Sorting-Head's Warning
KIARA
I did not want to tell the others that Lincoln and I had the same hallucination - at least, that's what I thought it was at the time - so I said nothing more about the horses as I sat down inside the carriage and slammed the door behind me. Nevertheless, I could not help watching the silhouettes of the horses moving beyond the window.
"Hey, I don't know if it's true or not, but I heard someone say that Mina's not here," said Chris.
"What?" I said, confused and astounded by this information, for it didn't seem likely that Crighton would have let her go. "She hasn't left, has she?"
"I'll be quite glad if she has," said Lincoln, "for she isn't a very good teacher, is she?"
"Yes, she is!" Chris, Chrissie, Kestrel and I said angrily.
I glared at Sian. She cleared her throat and quickly said, "Erm ... yes ... she's very good."
"Well, we in Raven-Wings thinks she's a bit of a joke," said Lincoln, unfazed.
"You've got a rubbish sense of humour, then," snapped Chrissie, as the wheels below us creaked into motion.
Lincoln did not seem perturbed by Chrissie's rudeness; on the contrary, he simply watched her for a while as though she was a mildly interesting television programme.
Rattling and swaying, the carriages moved in convoy up the road. As they did this, I wondered what was going on with Mina and why she wasn't at the school? Where was she, and why? Why did she leave, and for what purpose? When we passed between the tall stone pillars tapped with winged boars on either side of the gates to the school grounds, I leaned forwards to try and see if I could make out any lights coming from Mina's cabin by the Black Forest, but the grounds were in complete darkness. Dragon Mort castle, however, loomed ever closer; a towering mass of turrets, jet black against the dark sky, whilst here and there a window would be blazing fiery above us.
The carriages jingled to a halt near the stone steps leading up to the oak front doors and I got out of the carriage first. I turned again to look for lit windows down by the Forest, but there was definitely no sign of life within Mina's cabin. Unwillingly, because I had half-hoped that they would have vanished, I turned my eyes upon the strange, skeletal creatures that stood quietly in the chill night air, their blank white eyes gleaming.
I had once before had the experience of seeing something that Chrissie could not, but they had been reflections from a mirror, something much more insubstantial than a hundred solid-looking beasts strong enough to pull a fleet of carriages - and besides, Chris hadn't been there last time. If Lincoln was to be believed (which he was), the beasts had always been there but invisible. Because I did not understand at the time, I couldn't help but wonder why I suddenly saw them and no one else couldn't.
"Are you coming or what?" said Chris beside me.
"Oh ... yeah," I said quickly, and we joined the crowd hurrying up the stone steps into the castle.
The Entrance Hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as myself and other students around me crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right, which led to the Great Hall and the start-of-term feast.
The four long house tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky that we caught glimpses of through the high windows. Candles floated in midair all along the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall and the faces of the students who were talking eagerly, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other houses, eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes. It was then that I noticed people putting their heads together to whisper as I passed, and it didn't take me long to guess what they were talking about: what the Daily Squabbler was saying about me, calling me a lying show off. I wondered if they believed it, which made me quite angry to think about, so I just gritted my teeth and tried to act as though I didn't care or notice.
Lincoln drifted away from us at the Raven-Wings table. The moment we reached the Lion-Heart table, Kestrel went to sit with Beth, Merida and their friends; Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I were joined by Nikita again, and the five of us found seats together about halfway down the table between Nearly-Headless Nicola, the Lion-Heart house ghost, and Perry Party and Larry Brown, the last two of whom gave me airy, overly-friendly greetings that made me quite sure that they had stopped talking about me a split second before. I had more important things to worry about, however; I looked over the students' heads to the staff table that ran along the top wall of the Hall.
"She's not there."
Chris, Sian and Chrissie scanned the top table too, though there was no real need: Mina's size made her instantly obvious in any line-up.
"She can't have left," said Chrissie, sounding slightly anxious.
"Of course she hasn't," said Chris firmly.
"You don't think she's ... hurt, or anything, do you?" said Sian.
"No," I said at once.
"But where is she, then?"
I thought about it for a moment, and then I said very quietly, so that Nikita, Perry and Larry couldn't hear me, "Maybe she's not back yet - you know - from her mission - the thing she was doing over the summer for Crighton.
"Yeah ... yeah, that'll be it," said Chrissie, sounding reassured, but Chris looked unsure, and Sian bit her lip as she looked up and down the staff table, as though she was hoping that she would find a conclusive explanation for Mina's absence.
"Who's that?" she said sharply, pointing towards the middle of the staff table.
My eyes followed hers, past the high-backed golden chair that was empty for the time being (for Crighton always showed up after the Sorting had taken place) to the man sitting on the right, who was gazing around the Hall, eyeing everyone carefully. My first thought was that he looked like someone's (rather small) uncle; squat, with short curly, mouse-brown hair, quite a strong chin and good, observant eyes. He wore lime green robes with a baby blue cardigan on top (I know, he has no sense with colour clashing). It was only when I saw his face turned slightly to take a sip from his goblet that I saw, with a shock of recognition, a pallid, toadlike face and a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes.
"It's that Umber man!"
"Who?" said Sian.
"He was at my hearing, he works for Sweets!"
"Nice cardigan," said Chris, smirking.
"Urgh, he's got horrible dress sense," said Chrissie, eyeing his clothes in disgust.
"He works for Sweets!" Sian repeated, frowning. "What on earth's he doing here, then?"
"Dunno ..."
Sian scanned the staff table, her eyes narrowed.
"No," she muttered, her eyes gaining an angry fire, "no, surely not ..."
I did not understand what she was talking about but I did not ask; my attention had been caught by Professor Smutty-Stave who had just appeared at the staff table; he worked his way along to the very end and took the seat that ought to have been Mina's. That meant the first-years must have crossed the river and reached the castle, and sure enough, a few seconds later, the doors from the Entrance Hall opened. A long line of scared-looking first-years entered, led by Professor Darbus, who was carrying a stool, that the first-years sat upon to be Sorted.
The buzz of talk in the Great Hall faded away. The first-years lined up in front of the staff table facing the staff, as Professor Darbus placed the stool carefully in front of them, and then called for the Sorting-Heads: the Lion-Head, golden face, scarlet mane and eyes; the Raven-Head, blue feathers, bronze eyes and beak; the Badger-Head, black and yellow stripes; and the Snake-Head, that had green scales and silver eyes.
Instead of the Sorting Ceremony starting straightaway, the four Sorting-Heads turned to face us. There was a moment of silence before they all spoke in their own voices: the Lion, a low grumble, the Raven, in a croaky voice, the Badger, in a squeaky tone and the Snake in a low hiss. This is what they said.
"As we stand before you,
About to Sort once more,
We feel we have to ask,
Will things be like they were before?
Will houses still be divided,
Or will new relationships stand true;
Will we still remain the same,
Or will a path spring up anew?
We know our houses are different,
Each special in their own way,
And we ask you to put these differences aside,
And join forces to begin a new day.
The time is now, the time is short,
To stand together, side by side,
To make a point, to make a stand,
To take on evil with pride.
For if not now, when,
If not us, who,
It's time to join together,
And be true to ourselves, through and through."
The four heads then became motionless, bowed, and turned back to face Professor Darbus. I don't think any of us knew what to make of it, for I saw many students making remarks with their neighbours, and I knew exactly what they were talking about.
"Well, that was ... different," said Chris.
"And unexpected," Chrissie agreed.
"Nicola, have the Heads ever given warnings before?" Sian asked her, looking interested.
"Oh, yes. Yes, indeed," said Nearly Headless Nicola knowledgably, leaning across Nikita towards her (Nikita winced; it was very uncomfortable to have a ghost lean through you). "The Heads feel themselves honour-bound to give the school due warning whenever it feels - "
But Professor Darbus, who had just asked for the list, which the Snake-Head gave her, gave the whispering students the sort of look that scorches. Nearly-Headless Nicola placed a see-through finger to her lips and sat primly upright again as the muttering came to an abrupt end. With a last frowning look that swept the four house tables, Professor Darbus lowered her eyes to her long piece of parchment and called out the first name.
"Archwald, Emmeline."
A terrified-looking girl stumbled forwards to the stool. The Heads looked at her for a moment, before the Lion-Head leaned forwards.
"ROAR!"
I clapped loudly with the rest of my house as Emmeline Archwald staggered to our table and sat down, looking as though she wanted to sink through the floor and never be looked at again.
Slowly, the long line of first-years thinned. In the pauses between the names and the Sorting-Heads's decisions, I heard Chrissie's stomach rumbling loudly. Finally, "Zeller, Ross" was Sorted into Badger-Stripes, and Professor Darbus picked up the stool, marched away with it, and then came back to announce Crighton to the school.
As usual, the Sorting-Heads spun around quickly in the middle of the Great Hall and Crighton appeared, wearing her usual silver ceremonial robes which she wore every start- and end-of-term feast.
"Welcome one - and all - to Dragon Mort Magical Academy!" said Crighton loudly to the room at large, welcoming everyone in.
We all clapped loudly as she walked to her chair, and none more loudly than I - and perhaps Sian - for whatever bitter feelings I had felt towards my Headmistress were at that moment gone, for I then felt somewhat soothed to see Crighton welcoming us all for the new year. Between the presence of the dragonish horses and Mina's absence, I had felt that my return to Dragon Mort, so long anticipated, was full of unexpected surprises, like jarring notes in a familiar song. But this, at last, was how it was supposed to be: our Headmistress greeting us with arms held wide in welcome before our start-of-term feast.
"To our newcomers," said Crighton in a ringing voice once she was stood in front of her chair, her arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on her face, "welcome! To our old hands - welcome back! There is a time for speech-making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"
There was an appreciative laugh and an outbreak of applause as Crighton sat down neatly and threw her long hair over her shoulders so as to keep it out of the way of her plate - for food had appeared out of nowhere, so that the five long tables were groaning over joints and pies and dishes of vegetables, bread and sauces and flagons of pumpkin juice.
"Excellent," said Chrissie, with a kind of groan of longing, and she seized the nearest plate of chops and began piling them on to her plate, which was watched wistfully by Nearly Headless Nicola.
"What were you saying before the Sorting?" Sian asked the ghost. "About the Heads giving warnings?"
"Oh, yes," said Nicola, who seemed glad of a reason to turn away from Chrissie, and Chris too, who were both eating roast potatoes with impending enthusiasm. "Yes, I have heard the Heads give several warnings before, always at times when they detect periods of great danger for the school. And always, of course, their advice is the same: stand together, be strong from within."
"Ow kunney nofe skusin danger ifzerreds?" said Chrissie.
Her mouth was so full I thought that it was quite an achievement for her to make any noise at all.
"I beg your pardon?" said Nearly Headless Nicola politely, while Sian looked revolted and Chris bit back a laugh. Chrissie gave an enormous swallow and said, "How can they know if the school's in danger if they're Heads?"
"I have no idea," said Nearly Headless Nicola. "Of course, they live in a chest in Crighton's office so I daresay they pick things up there."
"And they want all the houses to be friends?" I said, looking over at the Snake-Eyes table where Dani Malty held court. "Fat chance."
"Well, now, you shouldn't take that attitude," said Nicola reprovingly. "Peaceful co-operation, that's the key. We ghosts, though we belong to separate houses, maintain links of friendship. In spite of the competitiveness between Lion-Heart and Snake-Eyes, I would never dream of seeking an argument with the Bloody Baroness."
"Only because you're terrified of her," said Chrissie.
"Chrissie," Sian hissed in a low, warning voice, as Nearly Headless Nicola looked highly affronted.
"Terrified? I hope I, Madam Nicola de Mimsy-Porpington, have never been guilty of cowardice in my life! The noble blood that runs in my veins - "
"What veins?" asked Chrissie. "Surely you haven't still got - ?"
"It's a figure of speech!" said Nearly Headless Nicola, so annoyed that her head trembled ominously on her partially severed neck, even as Sian hissed "Chrissie!" again in a slightly louder tone, and Chris smacked his forehead, shook his head and gave a low moan. "I assume I am allowed to enjoy the use of whichever words I like, even if the pleasures of eating and drinking are denied me! But I am quite used to students poking fun at my death, I assure you!"
"Nicola, she wasn't really laughing at you!" said Sian, throwing Chrissie a furious look.
Unfortunately, Chrissie's mouth was packed to exploding point again, and all she managed to say was "Node iddum eentup schew," which Nicola did not seem to think constituted as an adequate apology. Rising into the air, she straightened her feathered hat and swept away from us to the other end of the table, coming to rest between the McCreevey sisters, Colleen and Denise.
"Well done, Chrissie," snapped Sian.
"Smooth, sister. Real smooth," said Chris, looking disapprovingly at Chrissie.
"What?" said Chrissie indignantly, having managed to swallow her food. "I'm not allowed to answer a simple question?"
"Oh, forget it," said Sian irritably, and she, Chris and Chrissie spent the rest of the meal in huffy silence.
I was too used to their bickering to bother trying reconcile them; I felt it a better use of my time to eat my way steadily through my steak and kidney pie, then a large plateful of my favourite apple crumble.
When the eating was beginning to cool down and the chatter in the Hall was rising again, Crighton got to her feet. Talking ceased immediately as we all turned to face the Headmistress. I felt pleasantly drowsy by this point. I was thinking longingly of my four-poster bed waiting for me, wonderfully warm, somewhere above me ...
"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," said Crighton. "First-years ought to know that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to all students - and a few of our older students ought to know that, too." (Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I exchanged smirks.)
"Mr Match, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four-hundred-and-sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr Match's office door.
"We have two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Smutty-Stave, who will be taking care of Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umber, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."
There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause, during which Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I exchanged slightly panicked looks; Crighton had not said for how long Smutty-Stave would be teaching.
Crighton continued, "Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the - "
She broke off, looking enquiringly at Professor Umber. As he was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Crighton had stopped talking, but then Professor Umber cleared his throat, "Hem, hem," and it became clear that he had gotten to his feet and intended to make a speech.
Crighton only looked taken aback for a moment, then she sat down smartly and looked intently at Professor Umber as though she desired nothing more than to listen to him talk. Other members of staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise: Spud's eyebrows had disappeared almost into his hairline and Professor Darbus' mouth was the thinnest that I have ever seen it. No new teacher had ever interrupted Crighton before. Many of the students were smirking; this man certainly did not know how things were done at Dragon Mort.
"Thank you, Headmistress," Professor Umber simpered, "for those kind words of welcome."
His voice was high-pitched, breathy and boyish and, again, I felt a powerful rush of dislike that I could not explain to myself; all I knew at that moment was that I loathed everything about him, from his stupid voice to his fluffy, baby blue cardigan. He gave another little throat-clearing cough ("hem, hem") and continued.
"Well, it is lovely to be back at Dragon Mort, I must say!" He smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. "And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!"
I looked around, and none of the faces I saw looked particularly happy; on the contrary, they all looked rather taken-aback at being addressed as though they were five years old - not that I could blame them.
"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll all be very good friends!"
I saw students around me exchange looks at this; some of them were barely concealing grins.
"I'll be his friend as long as I don't have to borrow that cardigan," Perry whispered to Larry, and both of them tried (unsuccessfully) to stifle their snorts of laughter.
Professor Umber cleared his throat again ("hem, hem"), but, when he continued this time, some of the breathiness had vanished from his voice. He sounded much more banshee-like and now his words had a dull, learned-by-heart sound to them.
"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them for ever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by or ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."
Professor Umber paused here and made a little bow to his fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back to him. Professor Darbus' dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawklike, and I distinctly saw her exchange a significant glance with Spud as Umber gave another little "hem, hem" and went on with his speech.
"Every headmaster and headmistress of Dragon Mort has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress' sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation ..."
I found my attentiveness ebbing, as though my brain was slipping in and out of tune. The quiet that always filled the Hall when Crighton spoke broke up as students around me put their heads together, whispering and giggling. Over at the Raven-Wings table, Khan Chan was chatting animatedly with his friends. A few seats along from Khan, Lincoln Lovedream had got out The Mystics again. Meanwhile, at the Badger-Stripes table, Emily Mac was one of the few still staring at Professor Umber, but she was glassy-eyed and I was sure she was only pretending to listen in an attempt to live up to the new Prefect's badge gleaming on her chest.
Professor Umber did not seem to notice the restlessness of his audience. I had the impression that a full-scale riot could have broken out under his nose and he would have ploughed on with his speech. The teachers, however, were still listening very attentively, and Sian seemed to be drinking in every word Umber spoke, though, judging by her expression, they were not at all to her taste.
" ... because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognised as errors of judgement. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."
He sat down. Crighton clapped. The staff followed her lead, though I noticed that several of them brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unawares by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and before they could start applauding properly, Crighton stood up again.
"Thank you very much, Professor Umber, that was most illuminating," she said, bowing her head humbly to him. "Now, as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held ..."
"Yes, it certainly was illuminating," said Sian in a low voice.
"You can't be telling us you actually enjoyed that?" said Chris, he and Chrissie turning to Sian with glazed faces.
"Yeah, that was the dullest speech I've ever heard - and I always thought that Perdy's speeches were bad," said Chrissie, rolling her eyes.
"I said illuminating, not enjoyable," said Sian. "It explained a lot."
"Did it?" I said in surprise. "Sounded like a load of waffle to me."
"There was some important stuff hidden in the waffle," said Sian grimly.
"Was there, 'cause I caught none of it," said Chris.
"How about: "progress for progress' sake must be discouraged"? How about: "pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited"?"
"Yeah, Sian, that's great and all, but, uh - what does it mean? And please try and make it so I can understand, and not use your highly extensive vocabulary for once, 'cause that'd be great," said Chrissie.
Sian huffed, looked thoroughly irritated and said, in a tone that equalled her expression, "Basically, it means that the Ministry's interfering at Dragon Mort. You happy now?" she said angrily to Chrissie.
Chrissie looked at Sian blankly for a few moments, before she shrugged her shoulders and said, "Meh, it'll do."
Sian kind of lost it then. She moved her head around in exasperation and placed her head in her hands, slowly shaking it. She then muttered, "I can't believe you're my sister." I'm not sure if Chrissie didn't hear her or if she turned a blind eye to what Sian said, but either way, she ignored it.
There was then a great clattering and banging all around us; Crighton had obviously dismissed the school, because everyone stood up, obviously ready to leave the Hall. Sian immediately jumped to her feet, looking flustered, with Chris following suit.
"Chrissie, we're supposed to show the first-years where to go, remember?" said Sian, looking imploringly at her sister.
"Oh yeah," said Chrissie, who had obviously forgotten. "Hey - hey, you lot! Midgets!"
"Chrissie!"
"Well, they are, they're titchy ..."
"I know, but you can't call them midgets! First-years!" Sian called commandingly along the table. "This way, please!"
A group of new year students walked shyly up the gap between the Lion-Heart and Badger-Stripes tables, all of them trying hard not to lead the group. They did indeed look very small; I'm sure that I did not look that young when I had first got there, but what do I know? I grinned at them. A girl next to Emmeline Archwald looked petrified; she nudged Emmeline and whispered something in her ear. Emmeline Archwald looked equally frightened and stole a horrified look at me, and I felt the grin slide off my face like Stinksap.
"See you later," I said dully to Chris, Sian and Chrissie, and I made my way out of the Great Hall alone, doing everything I could to ignore more whispering, staring and pointing as I passed. I kept my eyes fixed ahead as I wove my way through the crowd in the Entrance Hall, then I hurried up the marble staircase, took a couple of concealed shortcuts, so that I had soon left most of the crowds behind.
How I didn't think to have expected this, I have no idea. I angrily thought that it was pretty stupid of me not to expect this, as I walked through the much emptier upstairs corridors. Of course everyone stared at me; I had, after all, emerged from the Triwizard maze two months previously to this, clutching the dead body of a fellow student and claimed to have seen Lady Zira return to power, and even though everyone had seen Georgia Diggs' spirit speak, clearly that was not enough information to convince people that I wasn't lying.
I reached the end of the corridor to the Lion-Heart common room and I came to halt in front of portrait of the Fat Lord, before I realised that I did not know the password.
"Er ..." I said glumly, staring up at the Fat Lord, who smoothed the folds of his indigo blue robes and looked sternly back at me.
"No password, no entrance," he said loftily.
"Kiara, I know it!" someone panted behind me, and I turned and saw Nikita jogging towards me. "Guess what it is? I'm actually going to remember it for once - " She waved the stunted little cactus she had shown us on the sub. "Mimbulus Mimbletonia!"
"Correct," said the Fat Lord, and his portrait swung open towards us like a door, revealing a circular hole in the wall behind, through which Nikita and I climbed.
The Lion-Heart common room looked as welcoming as ever, a cosy circular room full of dilapidated squashy armchairs and rickety old tables. A fire was crackling merrily in the grate and a few people were warming their hands by it before going up to their dormitories; on the other side of the room Tanya and Geri Fang were pinning something up on the noticeboard. I nodded to them before walking with Nikita to Dena and Zara, who had been talking as we approached them, but they stopped abruptly the moment I came within earshot. I couldn't help but wonder if they had been talking about me, before I questioned whether or not I was being paranoid.
"Hi," I said, stopping before them and smiling at them.
"Hey, Kiara," said Dena, smiling back at me. "Good holiday?"
"Not bad," I muttered, as a true account of that summer would have taken most of the night and I had neither the heart, nor the energy, to retell it. "You?"
"Yeah, it was OK," chuckled Dena. "Better than Zara's, anyway; she was just telling me."
"Why, what happened, Zara?" Nikita asked.
Zara did not answer immediately; she was staring at the fire, her fingers drumming on the table. Then she said, with her back still turned to me, "Me dad didn't want me to come back this year."
"What?" I said, looking at her in shock. Zara just kept on staring into the fire, still drumming her fingers on the table.
"He didn't want me to come back to Dragon Mort," she said, still not looking at me.
"But - why?" I said, astonished. I knew that Zara's father was a wizard, so what I couldn't understand was why he wanted to keep his daughter from going back.
Zara chose not to answer for a few moments, but only did when she couldn't put it off any longer.
"Well," she said in a measured voice, "I suppose ... it's because of you."
"What d'you mean?" I said quickly.
My heart beat rather fast. I remember feeling vaguely as though something was closing in on me.
"Well," said Zara again, still avoiding my eye, "he ... um ... well, it's not just you, it's Crighton, too ..."
"He believes the Daily Squabbler?" I said. "He thinks that I'm a liar and Crighton's an old fool?"
It was then that Zara chose to finally look at me.
"Yeah, something like that."
I said nothing. I chose instead to start pacing furiously behind Zara's chair. I was so sick of it; sick of being the person who is stared at and talked about all the time. If any of them knew, if any of them had the faintest idea of what it felt like to be the one all these things happened to ... Mr Finn had no idea, the stupid man, I thought savagely (sorry, Zara, but I was really angry).
As I paced, Zara turned to me and said, "Look ... I know we all saw Georgia' Diggs' spirit ... but ... well ... what did happen that night when ... you know, when ... with Georgia Diggs and all?"
Zara sounded nervous and eager at the same time. Dena then chose to look at me, too, along with those who had just entered the common room, but I ignored them all and kept my eyes focused on Zara.
Under different circumstances, I would have apologised and said that I didn't want to talk about it at that moment, because I wasn't ready - but, with Zara making her choice as to what she believed, I came up with this retort: "What are you asking me for? Just read the Daily Squabbler like your stupid father, why don't you? That'll tell you all you need to know."
"Don't you dare have a go at my father," Zara snapped.
"I'll have a go at anyone who calls me a liar," I said.
"Don't talk to me like that!"
"I'll talk to you how I want," I said, my temper rising so fast that I was itching for my wand. "If you've got a problem being in the same house as me, go and asked Darbus if you can be moved ... stop your daddy worrying - "
"Leave my father out of this, Pride-Lander!"
"What's going on?"
Chrissie, closely followed by Chris, had just stepped in through the portrait hole. Their eyes, along with many other curious ones, travelled from myself, with my right hand inching towards my wand, and Zara, who had stood up, glaring fiercely at me.
The portrait hole opened once more, this time revealing Sian with a bunch of first-year students. Once they had stepped over the threshold and stopped near enough in front of the fire, Sian raised her head and was taken aback by what she saw. Her eyes took in everything, from Chris and Chrissie's expressions, to the eyes of the other Lion-Hearts watching Zara and I, and then on to Zara and I and how we were stood. After quickly assessing the situation, she turned round to face the curious-looking first-years and said, "So, this is the Lion-Heart common room. You will spend a majority of your free time here, as well as the courtyards, but please remember that the Forest is forbidden. The dormitories are as follows: girls, up the stairs, enter through the door on your left, go down the staircase to the very bottom door and enter it, and boys, it's the same on your right. You'll find all your belongings have been brought up already. So, that concludes our tour and, seeing as it's your first day tomorrow, you all need a good night's sleep. Off you go."
The first-years didn't move at first, for they were looking curiously at what was going on between Zara and I. It was only after Sian gave them a very firm "Now," that they decided to move. Once they were gone, Sian turned to face us and said, "So, what's this all about?"
"She was having a go at my father, that's what's going on!" Zara yelled.
"What?" said Chrissie. "Kiara wouldn't do that - we met your father, we liked him ..."
"That's before he started believing every word the Daily Squabbler writes about me and your mother, Chrissie!" I said at the top of my voice.
"Oh," said Chrissie, comprehension dawning across her, Chris and Sian's faces, which then turned to darker, angrier looks. "Oh ... right."
"You know what?" said Zara heatedly, casting me a venomous look. "She's right, I don't want to share a house with her any more, she's mental."
"That's out of order, Zara," said Chris, coming immediately to my defence.
"Out of order, am I?" shouted Zara, who went pale, in contrast to Sian's burning face. "You believe all the rubbish she's coming out with about She-You-Know, do you? You reckon she and Crighton are telling the truth?"
"Of course we do!" said Sian angrily.
"Then you're all mad, too," said Zara in disgust. "You and your mother - "
There was a sharp intake of breath at this by Sian, her face equalling the anger I saw on her when Triphorm insulted her in our third year. Chris, Chrissie, myself and everyone else in the room watched in apprehension as Sian slowly stepped towards Zara, speaking in a low, dangerous voice that picked up in volume as she spoke.
"Let me make this perfectly clear to you now, Zara ... if you think ... for one second ... that I am going to stand by and watch you insult my mother ... my family like that ... then you are very much mistaken ... for I will do whatever it takes to defend them from people like you, no matter what it takes ... so I highly suggest that you BACK OFF!"
Sian said this with such ferocity that not only did Zara back away in fright, but many people jumped, and were very much afraid by the power that Sian portrayed. She then turned and addressed the room at large.
"Listen now, all of you, for I'll make this as simple as I can: if you believe Kiara, talk to us and we'll talk to you; if you don't, then don't bother approaching us, and keep on believing your own stupid beliefs. Remember that!" Sian then put her arm around me and led me towards the dormitories. Before we went up though, Sian turned her head slowly to look back at the crowd, who all immediately flinched and looked away from her. Seemingly satisfied, Sian and I, closely followed by Chris and Chrissie, headed up the stairs to the dormitories.
Sian, Chrissie and I said goodnight to Chris before we parted for the night. Halfway up the stairs to our dormitory, we heard a voice call, "Kiara! Hey, Kiara!" We turned back and saw Nikita, carrying her Mimbulus Mimbletonia, come panting toward us.
"What is it, Nikita?" said Sian calmly.
"I just want to say that my granddad thinks the Daily Squabbler's rubbish and that it's going downhill, not Crighton. He's cancelled our subscription. We believe you, Kiara," she said simply. "My granddad's always said She-You-Know would come back one day. He says if Crighton says she's back, then she's back."
I felt a rush of gratitude towards Nikita, so much so that I hugged her, expressing all my gratitude for her friendship and support through it. Nikita was stunned for a moment, but she quickly hugged me back. We soon said goodnight to her, as she went down to the fifth-year dormitory, and Sian, Chrissie and I continued on to the Dawsons' dormitory.
Beth, Kestrel and Merida soon joined us there, and none of us said anything as we got ready for bed. I remember lying back on my pillows for a while when I got into bed that night. Despite Sian's rather fierce support, I felt shaken by the argument with Zara, whom I had always liked very much. I wondered how many people thought that I was a liar or whether or not I was unhinged.
My thoughts then turned to Crighton, and I pondered whether she had suffered like I had all that summer, at first the Wizengamot, and then the International Confederation of Wizards threw her from their ranks. I couldn't help but think if Crighton was angry at me, which therefore stopped Crighton from getting in touch with me for months. The two of us were in this together (along with Chris, Sian and Chrissie to an extent, seeing as they've been with me from the very start, and how they are Crighton's children - along with the rest of her children); after all, Crighton had believed me, announced my version of events to the whole school and then to the wider wizarding community. Anyone who thought that I was a liar had to think that Crighton was too, or else that Crighton had been hoodwinked ...
They'll know right in the end, I thought miserably, as Sian got into bed and extinguished the last candle in the dormitory. But I wondered how many more attacks like Zara's I would have to endure before the time came.