The next major event was the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Almost everyone had gone to watch, even the Ravenclaws and Slytherins, and the Snow Leopards were no exception. They found seats as a group, near the back of the stadium, and made themselves comfortable.

"What spell are we going to learn next week, Leo?" asked Terry Boot.

Leo took a break from staring vacantly into space to reply "I was thinking of going back over Fumos to check we've all mastered it, and if we have time moving on to the Sticking Charm."

"Can we stick people to each other?" asked Theo eagerly.

"Depends who."

"You and Marisa. Actually, there's no need, you're stuck together already. Talking of which, where - ?"

"What's Professor McGonagall doing?" asked Tracey suddenly, pointing down to the pitch.

Leo followed her finger until his gaze landed on the teacher in question: she appeared to be running across the pitch, carrying a large purple megaphone.

"This match has been cancelled!" she called. "All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!"

Leo's heart sank. He realised what Theo had been about to ask and felt his entire body turn icy cold. "Where's Marisa?"

She wasn't there. Everyone looked around for her, as if hoping she'd magically appear.

"She said," began Daphne hesitantly, "she was going to the library because she was behind on homework."

"Oh, God," said Tracey, "she's been attacked, hasn't she?"

Leo spun round and pushed past the others to the end of the row. He dashed down the steps as fast as he could and tore out of the stadium, in time to catch up to Professor McGonagall, who had Potter and Weasley in tow and was leading them up towards the castle.

"Professor – " he panted – "has there been another attack?"

"Yes," she said gently. "Another triple attack."

He knew, in that moment, if he hadn't before, that his suspicions were right. But he had to ask, to be sure. "Who is it?"

She didn't answer.

"It's Marisa, isn't it?"

Once again, there was no answer, but her silence confirmed his worst fears. Sure enough, when they reached the infirmary, they saw three girls lying on the beds: a blonde-haired Ravenclaw prefect, Hermione Granger, and Marisa.

He heard Potter and Weasley's groans as they stared at their friend, but he had eyes only for Marisa. She lay there, eyes open but glassy, not moving a millimetre. She looked so young and vulnerable like this. The expression on her face was one Leo was intimately familiar with: biting her lip, worried and impatient.

Professor McGonagall held up a small, circular mirror, saying it had been found on the floor next to them. Leo filed it away under the heading of Possible Clues, in the small part of his brain which wasn't shocked and horrified, but shook his head when asked for an explanation.

"I will escort you back to Gryffindor Tower," she said to Potter and Weasley. "I need to address the students, in any case. Asriel, can I trust you to return to your common room alone?"

"Yes," said Leo quietly. "But could I please stay for a few minutes?"

"I – I suppose so," said Professor McGonagall, lip wobbling a little. "But make sure you are back in your common room by eleven-thirty."

"Yes, Professor," said Leo, in the same quiet, numb tone. He waited until she was gone before climbing up onto the bed next to Marisa. He placed his hand in front of her face, checking for breathing, and then felt her wrist for a pulse. Nothing at all.

She could have been dead.

"Marisa?" he whispered. "Can you hear me?"

No response. He had expected none: it was pointless and childish to speak to her like this.

"I don't know what's going on right now. I don't know if you're conscious, or what's happening inside. But if you can hear me, then – " he glanced anxiously around to make sure no-one was listening. "I swear I will find whoever did this to you, and I will make them pay."

He felt better the moment he'd said those words. Now he had a purpose for all his grief and anger. And he'd have her back, sooner or later. It would be all right.