Card the moon
Chapter 41 – The victim of my enemy
…
Slytherins did not walk the halls alone, it just wasn't done. Slytherins were not brave by nature, but they were prone to instigation. It was generally agreed you needed a highly inflated sense of entitlement to get sorted into Slytherin, at least according to anyone not sorted into Slytherin. For those who were sorted into Slytherin, it just went to prove they really were better than the common plebeians, so there.
Whichever side of the fence you fell on, all agreed that Slytherins did not travel alone. It didn't matter how much better you thought you were, nor how inflated the ego, the one thing no Slytherin wanted was to find out they were wrong. It was easier to believe something if you were never challenged.
A challenge was easier to avoid in a group. In a group there was always someone else to blame.
Daphne Greengrass was not stupid, but she was walking alone in the halls. She had to. Everyone else was too busy moping over their loss at the Slytherin Gryffindor game. It was rather pathetic.
Not the loss, although that was kind of pathetic, but it was the way they were taking it that was just completely intolerable.
Gryffindor won, or more accurately, Potter had won. She wasn't surprised. Even without his Firebolt, Potter was more than a match for Malfoy. She never expected the self-important little shit would beat Potter. Neither had anyone else. It was why they'd been trying so hard all the way up to the game to sabotage the Gryffindor team.
You weren't allowed to say that though, not just outside Slytherin but inside as well. Draco Malfoy was not especially gifted with magic, nor was he a particularly talented flyer. He was however insufferably full of himself, and that was in a house full of people who were full of themselves. But Draco, Draco took it to a whole other level.
It was, to her, absolutely intolerable, and yet she tolerated it. Why? Quite simply because his name was Draco 'Malfoy'. Draco may have been a pathetic little worm who fancied he was a dragon, but his father was a whole other kind of creature.
Lucius Malfoy was dangerous, and not just to his enemies. It wasn't his ability to just buy anything or anyone; no one who knew him believed that tosh he'd thrown at the courts about being under the Imperius during the war. His innocence was bought and paid for as well.
Lucius Malfoy was dangerous, and his associates knew it, and so did their children, and everyone who came out of Slytherin did at one point or another associate with Lucius Malfoy. He was that well connected.
It was an intolerable situation she was forced to tolerate because there was nothing she could do to change it. And since Draco was being especially intolerable, she'd done the only thing she could think to do to preserve her sanity.
The halls were as good as empty now. It seemed everybody was celebrating Gryffindor's victory, which was fine by her. She wasn't in a good mood after dealing with the mope. A nice, quiet, solitary walk was just what she needed.
Too bad she wasn't getting it.
Her first hint she was being followed was the footsteps. They weren't proper steps, they lacked lift. Someone was dragging their feet across the floor. She glanced behind her, but there was nothing there, and the sound had ceased.
"Hmm," it wasn't her feet, she'd have noticed it.
Chalking it up to imagination, she moved on. It followed a few moments after.
"Not subtle," she mumbled as her mind raced for explanation.
There'd been rumors floating around most of the year about students being found unconscious in the halls. Since most of the students in question were from Hufflepuff she'd not given it much thought. She briefly considered Sirius Black, but what would he want with her?
"I know you're there," she snapped, turning again to an empty hall. "If you're going to stalk someone, learn not to shuffle your feet."
No answer. Intolerable. Who did they think they were fooling?
Giving the hall a good glare, she turned to walk away and found herself running right into a pair of massive hands; massive hands which lifted her effortlessly off the floor by her throat.
"Shuffle, huh," the blocky stone thing said with wry humor, "I'll keep that in mind."
Her grip was just as impressive as it looked like it would be, the way she squeezed, it was clear she was toying with the Slytherin girl. Panic surged in her brain, she batted and swatted at the hard stone arm which did as much good as you'd expect it too.
Wheezing air became gasps, her body burned with fear, her head felt like it might pop.
"Hey! What're you doing?"
She didn't know, but it wasn't just her getting hot. The stone hand gripping her began to smoke, then it began to melt. The creature screamed, dropping her like a sack as it tried to blow on its slagging digits.
Daphne coughed, sucking in life giving air. The creature stared from stony furled brows, stared hard at her forehead.
"What're you looking at," she snapped weakly, reflex response betraying her as she was in no position to back it up.
"I'm gonna smash you!"
"I don't think so!"
In the historic record of surprise attacks, one of the true classics is the flying drop kick. Largely unknown in magical society, Daphne was extremely impressed when a girl who couldn't have been much older than she came flying out of nowhere and dropkicked the rock thing into a wall.
It said something about her cynical nature that she focused on the daring length of the girl's skirt once the immediate threat was removed from her vicinity.
"Are you alright?" the flying dropkick girl asked.
"Not if I have anything to say about it," a pained voice ground as her assailant pulled itself out of the wall, appearing little worse for wear.
"Oh drat," the girl said, "another tank. This is gonna take all day."
Words failed when the girl fearlessly charged, they returned when the rock thing swatted her aside like a gnat, "Ouch."
"She really should know better by now."
Her eyes itched of dryness from all the blinking she was doing, and the arrival of a talking cat only made it worse. "Why is the cat talking?"
"A subject for later," said the cat, performing a perfect backflip, complete with conjuration.
"What is this?" she demanded of the small rod in her hand.
"Something to even the playing field."
She listened, only barley believing as the cat explained the device. It was sheer madness, Gryffindor stupidity. She should run, get as far away from that 'thing' as possible. Every part of her screamed FLEE; all, save one. A small part she rarely listened to, it only ever got her into trouble. She wasn't important enough, powerful enough, to indulge it.
Pride goeth before the fall. She'd later blame it on the lack of oxygen going to her brain.
"MARS, POWER, MAKE UP!"
Power swelled and her pride followed suit. She never even questioned the length of her new skirt, or the heels; she was much more interested in the fire.
"MARS, FIRE, IGNITE!"
A blast of flame leapt from her fingers and smashed the rock thing like a flying drop kick, but hotter. The creature dropped, half its chest running off as molten slag.
Daphne stared at her hands, the madness of power running quickly across her face. She strutted across the floor and offered a condescending hand to the struggling girl. She looked at it a moment then grabbed and pulled.
A moment of confusion became a moment of terror when she felt something long, hard, and sharp skim over her hair where her neck had just been.
The two of them tumbled out of the way of the follow up, scrambling away from the black humanish thing with all the sharp edges.
"What the bloody hell!"
"They've been traveling in packs lately," the girl explained, struggling to one knee while never losing sight of the new attacker.
"So now what?"
The appearance of a third attacker, this one buzzing on dragonfly wings, answered the question in both their minds. As one they turned and ran.
"I should have done this to begin with," cried Daphne as they bolted down the hall. "How the hell am I doing this in high heels?"
"Try not to think about it, your ankles will thank you."
"We're not going to live that long, unless you've got a plan."
"Run till we find help."
"You had someone specific in mind? YIKE!"
The flyer was easily keeping pace with them and decided to show off what she could do, nails of iron that fired like tiny missiles.
"That's new," the girl said.
"They don't usually do that?" Daphne asked, temporarily putting aside any of what was happing being 'usual'.
"They're all a bit different," she said as they approached a connecting hall.
It would have been easy for them to go different ways; Daphne hoped most of them would follow the other girl. Their little chase came to an odd halt though when another girl, dressed in a too short skirt, came running their direction, chucking a ball of lightning behind her.
Neither group stopped quick enough and the three girls wound up in a heap on the floor.
"Oh! What'd I hit?" she asked from the top of the pile.
"Us!" Daphne shouted.
Before stock could be taken, yet another girl, similarly dressed, came sliding around the corner and crashed into their heap.
"Mercury!"
The girl looked up, saw what she'd run into, and let out a weak moan.
Again, before questions could be asked, yet another person went flying past them. He, because it was a he this time, rolled off the fly and came to his feet, holding the shiny black cane like a fencer's sword.
Following shortly after, a girl in Hufflepuff colors calmly walked into view holding a strange sword. Her eyes were milky white and she moved with a confidence not often seen in adolescent girls.
"What's this now."
The trio had caught up and regrouped while the new arrivals filed in and now everyone was just staring.
The sword wielding girl seemed least concerned with anything but the dashing gentleman in the mask. She took a stance and lunged. His parry was quick if sloppy, leaving him open to a second and he tumbled. It was a well-aimed tumble, bringing him back to his feet right in front of the four girls.
The first girl placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered, "Is that a?"
He nodded, apparently not needing to be told what 'a' was. "It's in full control. She won't respond."
"I think a girl with a sword is the least of our worries," said Daphne.
The gentleman glanced over his shoulder then back to the sword girl, "I don't."
Daphne gaped.
"You got an idea?" the girl in the green skirt asked.
He nodded, "Let one problem solve the other."
From his breast pocket he pulled an odd-looking card. The first girl and the green skirt seemed to understand; Daphne was just glad she wasn't the only one out of the loop as the blue skirt looked as clueless as she felt.
"What is that supposed to do?" asked the blue skirt.
"When she comes again, everyone rush toward her."
"Throwing the rest of us on her sword," Daphne accused.
"You prefer the alternative," he replied.
She'd no time to consider the option, the girl came with startling speed and he charged to meet her, "LOOP!"
She didn't get the chance to not follow, both wrists were grabbed, and she was dragged along. In hindsight she was glad.
"How did we? What did? Huh?"
It was surreal. Somehow, they were behind them now. More surreal still, the feeble looking girl with the sword was cutting the three monstrosities to ribbons.
"How is she doing that?" asked the first girl.
"It's the sword. It's knows, somehow. It knows exactly where to hit them," the masked man explained.
"Well great," said Daphne. "Now let's get out of here before she runs out of targets."
She was already down to the rock thing; the others being rendered to fine black powder upon their deaths.
"We can't leave her," he said. "It's not her fault she's like this, but if she winds up killing someone, she'll never forgive herself."
"Well I hope you've got another trick because it looked like you were getting your arse kicked a minute ago."
He turned a smile at her remark, so certain, so cocky. She'd later deny the heat she felt in her cheeks.
"She caught me by surprise, but you're right, I'm no match in a one on one. So we'll try something else."
They were a good distance down the hall, and he approached at a casual pace. The others stood back, watching as lightning began dancing around him. The rock monster was proving harder than the other two but even its incredible defense was penetrated, the sword plunged through, and stuck.
"Perfect. THUNDER!"
A clap of thunder exploded right on top of them, throwing the girl down the hall and flattening the rock monster with the sword still sticking out of it.
"Now Sailor Moon!"
"Moon, Tiara, MAGIC!"
The glowing disc finished what the sword had started, rending it to black dust, but it wasn't over with that.
"Look out!"
The sword levitated, swung back and forth as though searching. The masked man approached without fear and grabbed the sword out of the air.
"That's enough out of you. SWORD!"
A brilliant flash and the sword was gone.
"Is—is that it?" she asked.
"Looks like it," said blue skirt.
"Is she okay," said green skirt, referring to the Hufflepuff.
"I'll take care of her," said the masked man.
That was fine, she had three others to choose from. "Well, since that's over, I have a little question," and she asked it in a perfectly calm and reasonable fashion. "JUST WHAT THE BLOODY BUGGERING HELL IS GOING ON!"
