These chapter contains various proverbs of origins I don't remember, but which have been told to me by various people at various points in my life. They make their appearance because I feel like and no other reason. Plus... proverbs are fun... kind of.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Chapter 25: Questions of Intentions and Identities
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
An eerie and deadly silence filled the room and in unison, both Harry and Hermione stood up, dropping their wands onto their chairs, not in horror or disappointment at Gryffindor losing, but in shock at Adrienne. Adrienne staring as if she were watching a video, watched Cho slowly lower Adrienne's wand. She watched Cho's terrified and yet pleased face look at her, trying to calculate what had just taken place. In an instant, a buzz of chatter filled the room and the two teams stood up. Out of the corner of Harry's eye, he could see McGonagall quickly walk to the edge of the ring and stop, waiting with impatience for Adrienne to exit. However, Adrienne didn't make any movement that showed intention of exiting the ring. Instead she was still staring dumbstruck at Cho. And it wasn't until Cho hesitantly held out her hand, still partially waiting for Adrienne to jump at her in hatred, that Adrienne realized that she was still in the dueling ring. Adrienne, as a reflex, reached out and took Cho's hand, shaking it without the firm grip she usually held after a match, and then very slowly, fully aware of all eyes on her, she grabbed back her wand, turned, and began to walk towards the edge of the ring. However, upon seeing Professor McGonagall, standing, waiting for her to exit, Adrienne quickly changed direction and made for a different section of the ring, saluting herself out. This crisp movement served as a floodgate, that once opened, could not be closed. Once she had stepped out of the safe confines of the dueling ring, the room exploded with speech.
"Did you see that?"
"I don't believe it!"
"Some dueling champion she is, loosing to a rank school dueler."
Adrienne quickened her pace and lifted her head slightly higher, focusing her eyes only on the set of double doors ahead of her. The shocked and amazed conversations were pressing in on her, and she could make out Professor McGonagall's voice among them.
"Adrienne!" Adrienne didn't turn around.
"Adrienne, please wait a minute!" Adrienne again didn't make any movement or sound to acknowledge McGonagall's pleads. Instead she took a deep breath, gripped her wand, and continued to walk, refusing to listen to her instincts and run out like an overgrown baby. Despite her refusal to run, and despite the fact that McGonagall had longer legs, Adrienne was quicker.
"Adrienne!" McGonagall called again just as Adrienne walked through one of the double doors. Adrienne turned around.
"Adrienne, could I have a word with . . ." and with that, Adrienne slammed the door in her professor's face, dearly hoping she had at least broken her nose.
"Well, that was unexpected," Hermione said slowly, reaching back down to her seat to retrieve her wand. Harry didn't move nor speak.
"Unexpected? More like impossible," Ron said, walking up to stand next to them. Harry turned and looked at him.
"She lost. I fail to see how that is impossible." Ron whipped around and glared at Draco Malfoy who, along with Crabbe and Goyle, had made their way over to the Gryffindor side.
"Malfoy, go away," Harry replied shortly, staring at him with contempt, feeling his patience slowly draining out of him.
"Malfoy, go away," Malfoy mimicked in a high, girly voice, "Is that the best you can do, Potter?" Next to him, Crabbe and Goyle smiled demonically.
"As Adrienne would say, eat socks," Ron snapped.
"When does she say eat socks?" Hermione asked, bewildered, the events of the last several minutes playing with her mind.
"One time when I beat her, again, at chess . . . she told me to eat socks," Ron said abruptly.
"Well, they do seem to be the food source that the likes of you, Weasel, would consume. And speaking of little Miss American Scum . . ." Malfoy started, but Harry had quickly raised his wand and pointed it at him, square between the eyes.
"Speaking of Adrienne, what exactly were you planning on saying, Ferret-boy?' he asked in a deadly calm. Malfoy first sneered, but taking in the very dull and calculating look playing across the irises' of Harry's eyes, he slowly let his sneer drop.
"Just saying that it's such a sad sight, her loosing," he said in mock-sympathy, "You know what, I reckon she might go kill herself now. Just think: An orphan, no family, no history, no future. The only thing she ever had was her dueling title, and now that's been stripped from her, well, not technically speaking anyway."
"Mr. Potter! Isn't fame enough for you, or must you resort to threatening others when things don't go your way?"
Harry turned, along with Hermione, and Ron. Draco didn't, he just stood there, grinning evilly. Professor Snape was making his way to the group, his black robes billowing ominously, and a smirk playing on his sallow face.
"Well, what do we have here? Threatening a student with physical injury?" Snape asked slowly, upon arriving into the proximity. Harry fought the urge to glare and slowly lowered his wand.
"No Professor," he began, looking up at Snape with a face of mock sincerity, "just showing Draco proper placement of a charm to alter mental status."
"Mr. Malfoy doesn't need dueling help from the likes of you, or, dear me, your team. Seems to me that Miss Miles is having quite the bad year, isn't she?" he asked without breaking a hint of a smile or a frown. Harry glared at Snape and bit the insides of his cheeks in a desperate attempt to keep from lashing out with the Cruciatus Curse, or just lunging forward and sticking his wand up Snape's nose, which Harry had to admit was a wonderful target, and throwing him to the ground, while getting some good kicks in on some key places. This, fortunately for Harry, and unfortunately for Snape, never had the opportunity to manifest itself, as Professor Dumbledore had suddenly called for Snape's attention.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor, Potter, for being a sore loser. Come Mr. Malfoy," and with that, Snape strode away, followed, rather reluctantly by a very curious and miffed Draco.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione pushed their way through the throngs of students now exiting the stands and making a mad rush towards the doors. After several minutes of being pushed, elbowed, hollered at, stepped on, and tripped, the trio pushed their way out of the pack and rushed up the marble staircase, quickening their pace in an attempt to beat the rest of the Gryffindors to the common room.
"Do you think someone should go talk to her?" Harry asked unsurely as they walked through the empty corridor. The only other sound besides their shuffling of feet was the muffled voices of the students several floors below, drifting through the stone walls.
"I'll go," Hermione offered gingerly as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who was now looking down at them with an expectant and curious face. Harry stopped in his tracks and turned.
"Now wait a second, she's my sister, perhaps I should go talk to her," he said quickly. Hermione raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"I spend more time with her than you do. Plus, we tell each other so much all ready, it wouldn't be that hard to start a heart to heart with her."
"Does she talk to you about me?" Ron asked hopefully upon hearing about the two girls' gabfest. Hermione dismissed this question with an impatient wave of her hand.
"She's my . . ." Harry started but was rudely interrupted by the now impatient Fat Lady.
"What went on with the other girl?" she asked in a ruffled voice, partly because she always felt the last to know something because no one ever bothered to fill her in on the castle's events except for her friend, Violet, who was currently harboring an infatuation with Sir Cadogan, the Mad Knight, that prevented any kind of meaningful conversation.
"She's in there?" Ron asked, turning to look at the portrait.
"Of course she is, woke me up half-right too, yelling at some person I couldn't see to shut up. You don't suppose she has one of those, what do the Muggles call them, Invisible Friends, do you? Or at least that's what Violet said they were; come to think of it, she might have said, Delusionary Friends, or perhaps she meant. . ."
"Samoa!" Harry exclaimed in exasperation, raising his eyebrows in half terror at her uncharacteristic need to talk.
"You don't have to get so bent out of shape," the Fat Lady snapped back before tearing herself from the wall. Harry, Ron, and Hermione quickly climbed through, and Harry could have sworn he heard the portrait mumble:
"Kids these days, don't care about anything except themselves," as she swung back into place. The Gryffindor common room was empty, and Harry sighed at the thought of knowing that they had beaten the rest of the students. He quickly walked towards the spiral staircase.
"You can't go up there, Harry!" Hermione called after him, beginning to jog to catch up with him.
"And why not, you've come in our dormitory loads of times," he said, turning and looking at her with a smug smile. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"That was different," she said slowly, not being able to think of another argument.
"Right, Hermione. You just want to go talk to her first," Harry replied.
"I know, since you two can't make up your mind, I'll go talk to her," Ron said quickly, pushing past Hermione to reach the staircase.
"Wait a second," she spat, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder, "You can't go up there either." Using this distraction, Harry turned back around and hurtled up the staircase and out of sight. Hermione's jaw dropped and turned her attention back to Ron, who took a step backwards at her glare.
"He's a guy, he'll have no idea what to say to her," she said bitterly.
"And what were you going to say, woman?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow at Hermione's remark.
"I just meant he might say the wrong thing."
"Like what? I know you're my sister and all, and I know that you've just been nearly burned, frozen, captured, perhaps killed, but why the hell did you have to go and lose?" Ron suggested. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"I doubt he'll say something that stupid," but then her face contorted into a fearful grimace, "At least I hope not."
* * * * *
Harry knocked softly on the closed door, and then, ever so slowly, opened the door, bracing himself in case Adrienne decided to throw a pillow at him. She didn't. The fifth year girls dormitory was dark, the only light coming from the moon, shining through the window. Harry narrowed his eyes and let them wander through the room, looking for a sign of Adrienne. None of the bed hangings were closed and she wasn't standing up. Harry took another step into the room and slowly shut the door behind him.
"Adrienne," he called slowly, his eyes falling upon a pair of feet lying across a bed in the far corner. Harry smiled, confused, and walked towards the legs. Once he rounded the bed, he quickly raised a hand to his mouth in an attempt to mask his laugh. Adrienne was hanging over the edge of her bed, her head resting on the floor, her feet on the opposite edge of the bed, her arms crossed against her chest, her eyes staring into the dark ceiling.
"Adrienne, what exactly are you doing?" Harry asked slowly, walking over and stopping right next to her contorted body.
"Trying to drown my mind in blood," she replied dully, her eyes not moving to look at him, just continuing to stare into the ceiling.
"Right, and you would want to do that why?" he asked, sitting onto the edge of her bed and looking down at her. Adrienne didn't move. Harry pursed his lips.
"You're turning purple," he said. Adrienne blinked.
"Why don't you sit up, you look like you're going to pass out," he suggested, reaching a hand down to pull her up. Adrienne didn't take it.
"I'm quite comfortable, thank you," she replied, blinking impassively. Harry didn't reply and just continued to sit there, turning his attention to the window. After several quiet minutes, Adrienne broke the silence.
"I don't suppose you came up here just to sit on my bed, which is the same type, style, and brand as yours," she said, swinging her legs off the bed, over her head and down to the floor. She quickly straightened, pulled her robes in several places to unwrinkled them, and then turned to look at Harry.
"Everyone losses sometime," she said matter-of-factly. Harry looked at her and smiled.
"I know," he replied.
"Then why'd you come up here?" she asked in disgust. Harry stared at her for a second before beginning to speak.
"Well, you didn't look yourself before the match. You seemed to be preoccupied or something. I just wanted to know if you were all right," he said, trying to choose his words wisely, reminding himself that Adrienne had been quite defensive lately. Adrienne raised an eyebrow, half in surprise and half in fear.
"I'm fine, Harry," she said, and then taking in his skeptical face, sat down next to him, "Really, I just had an off day. Added to every other off day I'm having lately, it must seem like a lot, but I'm fine. I'm just getting back into the swing of things, ya know?" she asked in a quiet voice, hoping that she was coming off with an angelic sincerity.
Harry looked at her. In the moonlight she looked paler than he had been used to seeing her as. And if the light hit her right it looked almost as if she was beginning to get dark circles under her eyes, the same dark circles that had overtaken Hermione's face after she had spent all her time studying their third year, and the same dark circles that had marked the times following Professor Lupin's transformations. Harry thought she looked exhausted, almost as if she was at the edge of sanity. Something else about her reminded him of someone, but he couldn't think of what. Adrienne smiled at him and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Now, Potter, I'm fine, but if you get caught up here, it's going to raise interesting questions from the rest of those 'sunny' classmates of ours," Adrienne said, thinking mainly of Lavender and Parvati, "If I ever had anything important bothering me, you know I'd talk to you, right?" Adrienne slowly crossed the fingers on her right hand, which she had hidden behind her leg. Harry stood up and smiled at her.
"You sure you're all right?" he asked.
"Of course," she replied, standing up and giving him a hug, just to add effect. This took Harry be surprise, but he hugged her back and then stepped away.
"I'll be down a little later," said Adrienne, turning to her bedside cabinet, "I gotta do a couple things."
"You're fine then?" Harry asked again. Adrienne turned back and looked at him.
"I'm fine, seriously."
"Good." And with that Harry walked towards the door, stopping once he had opened it, to glance one more time at Adrienne. From this distance, in the moonlight, Harry realized exactly who she reminded him of: Sirius Black in his wanted poster. She too was now pale, thin, and had a ghostly aura around her face. 'Fine my foot,' he told himself, and then firmly shut the door.
* * * * *
A burst of noise filled Harry's ears as he reached the staircase and made his descent. From the looks of it, the entire house was gathered in the common room. Angry students were gesticulating and shouting frantically at the duelers who had lost.
"Hermione! You are supposed to be the smartest person in the school!" Parvati said with an air of superiority, "And you lost to a Ravenclaw? I guess there went your reputation." Hermione raised an eyebrow and clenched her jaw.
"At least she's on the dueling team," Ron spat. Harry walked up to his two friends, his eyes flickering over the scene in front of him. Hermione was balling her fists, Ron was going red, and Parvati was talking herself blue.
"Excuse me, Parvati, Fred and George are over there discrediting divination," Harry began, not even being able to finish, because in a wisk of motion Parvati had swept away, drawing her robes around her in an intimidating fashion. Hermione looked up.
"Frog," Hermione muttered as Parvati sped away, "What did Adrienne say?"
Harry quickly looked down at his shoes, suddenly becoming very interested in a smudge against the black coloring. Harry had to admit, he really hadn't learned anything from Adrienne. In actuality, he was now more confused than he had been before talking to her.
"Well," he began, "she's claiming she had an off day." Hermione made a skeptical face and reached for her two friends hands, pulling them towards their usual table, which was currently inhabiting the only quiet part of the room.
"She didn't look very confident before entering the ring," Hermione began in a hushed voice once everyone was seated. Ron nodded.
"Something's bothering her. She hasn't acted herself at all. One minute she's living in a sarcastic dimension where all she can say is something crazy, the next she's flooding the Transfiguration classroom," he said, leaning back in his chair and staring at Harry. Harry turned his attention to a nearby dark window and stared absently out it.
"She's acting somewhat like you did, give or take the mood swings and such," Hermione started. Harry turned his head, his green eyes piercing the brown ones staring at him. He sighed.
"I assume your referring to after the Third Task," he said in a subdued tone. Hermione nodded her head and Ron's already sad face began to harbor a frown.
"She was saying things about it not being her fault, right, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"Yes."
Hermione clasped her hands in her lap.
"Perhaps she's blaming the attack on herself. The article did say it was rumored that Voldemort came for her," she said quietly.
Harry frowned and didn't reply. The three sat in silence, letting the surrounding chatter flow through their minds, turning their attentions to the bits and pieces of angry conversation. It was Ron who finally broke their silence.
"I can't believe we lost," he mumbled.
* * * * *
That night Adrienne lay awake, hidden behind her drawings, her eyes staring into the red curtains, her mind drifting to another world. It was a surprise to her as much as anybody, her losing. She cursed under her breath and slowly sat up. Somehow, though, while entering the ring, she knew she'd lose. She had been contemplating throwing the match all together, that is, if the team wouldn't need her win for a victory. Adrienne took a deep breath and drew her knees up to her chest. Her entire walk to the dueling ring had been plagued by the voice in the back of her head, and now, reflecting on the events that took place in the ring, Adrienne realized exactly why she lost. She shut her eyes and bit her lip. She had been afraid of doing something that would arose suspicion, she had lost her edge during her duel.
'If it hadn't been for that damned voice I would have won,' she thought as she slowly laid back onto her pillow.
"It's all your fault," she whispered to her mind, which didn't reply. She sighed. "I could have won."
'Of course you could have, and then they'd all know. It was for your own good,' replied the voice. Adrienne shut her eyes, trying desperately to block it out.
* * * * *
"My Lord?"
Voldemort looked up from his chair, his long spider-like hands gripping his wand, a satisfied smile on his face.
"Yes, Lucius?" he replied in a subdued tone that Lucius had never heard before. He shuddered and stepped closer to the chair.
"I received an owl from Draco. It seems that the Potter girl lost her duel," he said quietly, not looking into the red eyes that were piercing, as ever, the semi-darkness of the stone chamber.
"I know, Lucius."
Lucius shifted his eyes to look at his master. Voldemort stared back at him, an evil grin slowly spreading across his face.
"You do?" Lucius asked in surprise.
"Of course I did. What did I say, Lucius? What did I tell all of you?" Voldemort asked with a hint of impatience. Lucius screwed up his pale face in thought.
"Tell us about what?" he asked, not knowing the answer. Voldemort's grin widened.
"She's mentally weak," he replied.
"I'm afraid I don't follow you, my Lord," Lucius replied. Voldemort stood up, placing his wand back into a pocket of his robes.
"Ask yourself why she lost," he ordered.
Lucius made a face under his mask: He hated these games.
"Because the other girl was better?" he suggested with a tinge of impatience.
"Fool, her opponent is nothing compared to her." Voldemort paused here, and before Lucius could reply, started speaking again. "And Adrienne is nothing compared to me. Easily manipulated she is. She'll prove quite useful."
* * * * *
As it turned out, the whole of Gryffindor House took Adrienne losing her match as a personal insult, especially Parvati and Lavender.
"Really, why couldn't you stay in America?" Parvati asked Adrienne as she made her way to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Adrienne didn't reply and just quickened her pace, causing Harry, Ron, and Hermione to fall behind her.
"We could have won had it not been for you, Miles," Lavender called after her.
"Leave her alone," Harry said, turning to look at the two girls. They just glared back at him.
"How can you stand being a co-captain with her?" Parvati snapped, and then laughing shrilly, sashayed on ahead, Lavender on her heals.
Harry took a seat between Hermione and Ron, and cast Adrienne a smile over Hermione's bent head. Hermione was rapidly flipping through her Defense textbook, seemingly interested in nothing at all, just glancing at random pages. The student's chatter died away with the sound of approaching heels. In a few seconds, Professor Wallace, wearing light green robes, entered the room. Harry's eyes widened in surprise, as did the rest of the class. Professor Wallace no longer sported short spiky blond hair, but now buzz cut that reminded Harry of pictures of army men.
"Dear me, am I late?" she asked, while placing a square box into her desk. She smiled a cheery smile at her students and then glanced around the room excitedly. "Ah, today I was thinking . . ." she began. Hermione raised her eyebrows skeptically: She couldn't really see Professor Wallace, with her now buzzed hair; her ears, each sporting at least six hoop earrings; wearing green robes; and inch long bright purple nails, thinking. ". . .what about starting some more MSB simulations?" she asked with an air of excitement.
During the last term, everyone had had a chance to use the MSB without her assigning them an opponent: They just faced whatever appeared when they entered. Hermione had found herself face to face with a large man bearing a Muggle gun, which she had disarmed quite easily. Ron had found himself up against a larger version of Hagrid's Fluffy, to whom he began signing "Mary Had a Little Lamb" in an off-pitch voice that caused the class to plug their ears. Harry had met a Dementor, and his performing the Patronus charm sent Professor Wallace into hysterics at his excellence.
"But today, as you all so wonderfully achieved success in your first experience, I'll be assigning you an opponent to face. One, which I feel, would most best suit your defense level," she said excitedly, clasping her hands in front of her in anticipation. Harry turned to look at Hermione, but didn't catch her eye, as she had now turned her attention back to her text book.
"Mr. Potter, why don't you go first?"
Harry shrugged and stood up, a little nervous at what he might be forced to face, but then, upon reminding himself about his now superb dueling abilities, he took a deep breath and stepped forward. Professor Wallace's grin widened and her purple eyes glinted with either excitement or fear, Harry couldn't determine which.
"Perfect, Mr. Potter, I have just the right thing for you. Do come forward," she said, turning around and opening the box sitting on her desk. She slowly pulled out the MSB and then turned to face the class again.
"Just like last time, Mr. Potter. You go in, flick your wand here and there, and we watch ya," she said, handing the circular orb to him.
Harry took it, placing his left hand beneath it, and his right hand on top. Just as before, a bolt of energy flew through his body, and as soon as it had started, it had stopped. Harry pulled on his robes to straighten them and then reached for his wand.
He looked around at his surroundings. He was in a large stone room. Along the walls were torches, yet somehow, despite their numerous count, they provided very little light. In the dim light, he could make out very little except for a chair centered in the middle, in the brightest part of the room. It seemed to Harry that the torches were lit so that they almost spotlighted the elegant, silver chair.
Harry stared at it curiously. It had an emerald green backing and seat cushion that looked splendid in the little light. The legs of the chair were silver, and the feet were shaped as snake heads with open mouths. The back green cushion was surrounded by intricate carvings of silver snakes, culminating with two snakes rising from the top, facing each other, their mouths open, their fangs beared, ready to strike. Harry shuddered slightly.
He looked around the room, expecting his opponent to barge in any second, but no one else entered the room. Harry turned his attention back to the chair and for the first time noticed a small table next to it. He took a few tentative steps, drawing him close enough to see what was lying on the top: a golden box. Harry looked around the room again, and then, after confirming he was still alone, he closed the space between himself and the table, and reached for the box. Slowly he lifted the plain golden lid.
Harry stared at the contents. A lone pendent lay against the blood red cushions. Harry had seen that pendent somewhere and he closed his eyes in an attempt to remember where. In the corner, oblivious to Harry, someone moved.
"The Golden Serpent?" Harry whispered, opening his eyes and refocusing them on the pendent.
Indeed, a small statue of a golden serpent, attached to a golden chain lay in the box. He slowly reached his hand inside to pick it up, but just as he touched it, a movement drew his attention. Harry quickly jerked his head up and slammed the lid shut, grabbing his wand from his left hand. Out of the corner, out of a doorway that he hadn't noticed before, cloaked figures were entering the room. They walked in a silent procession, right past him, as if he wasn't even there, and then lined themselves up against a wall, all facing the chair and Harry. Harry raised his wand in front of him and drew in a short breath.
"Death Eaters," he whispered.
"Your memory is commendable, Mr. Potter," said a cold voice behind him. Harry spun around and watched in horror as two red eyes emerged from the darkness. At first, Harry didn't believe his eyes.
'It can't be Voldemort,' he told himself, 'My scar doesn't hurt.' But then he realized that perhaps while in the bubble, it wouldn't, because Voldemort was no immediate threat to him there.
Back in the classroom, Adrienne pushed her chair back in horror. Several others had done the same thing. Hermione and Ron just sat there, shaking their heads and shooting hateful glares at Professor Wallace, who settled onto her desk as if she was going to watch a boxing match or something alone that sort of line.
Inside the bubble, Harry didn't move. He waited for pseudo-Voldemort to speak again, but the man just stood there, glaring at him. Harry, in an instant, positioned his wand between him and pseudo-Voldemort.
"You think you can beat me, Harry?" Pseudo-Voldemort whispered, "Foolish boy, I have already won. No one can save you now." Harry didn't reply, deciding that as long as he was safe, he'd let pseudo-Voldemort speak, maybe he'd get some information.
"So, you've seen the Golden Serpent?" Pseudo-Voldemort said, not really asking a question. He took a step towards Harry.
"What do you want with it?" Harry asked, although he knew the answer.
"Do you know who you accepted into your midst?" Pseudo-Voldemort asked in a cold voice.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said quietly, his eyes narrowing.
"No one can stop me, Potter, no one." Pseudo-Voldemort was just feet away from him now, and Harry took an involuntary step backwards.
"Your assignment, Potter, to duel me and win. But you can't can you? No, so I'll make it easier on you," he said in a snide voice, reaching into his robes and withdrawing his wand.
"Next time we meet, Potter, it will be real."
Pseudo-Voldemort bent down and placed his wand on the floor, keeping his gaze on Harry the entire time. He stood up with a triumphant look on his face. Harry didn't move, not quite knowing what to do. He hadn't expected this, and as he stood there, staring into the eyes of the man in front of him, he could feel a sour hatred rising from his gut and he tightened his grip on his wand.
"How can you expect to defeat me when you can't even face me here? There you go, I'm disarmed."
Harry didn't move or blink. He just stood there and then slowly, realizing that attacking a fake Voldemort now would be dumb as it wouldn't make a difference, he slowly raised his hands in front of him to cup the imaginary bubble.
"One gets drowned even in shallow water, Potter," pseudo-Voldemort whispered to Harry's disappearing image.
With a slight flash of light, Harry appeared inside the Defense classroom. His eyes immediately fell on Professor Wallace, who was wearing a look of extreme disappointment, having expected a fabulously entertaining duel.
"Here you go, Professor," Harry mumbled, handing her the MSB.
He turned on his heal. The entire class was staring at him, all wearing the same expression of shock, fear, and sympathy. All except Adrienne, who was standing up, a hand over her mouth in horror, her mind working over what pseudo-Voldemort had said. Very slowly Adrienne lowered her hand, and then as quick as a flash, grabbed her bag and ran towards the door, slamming it behind her.
"Miss Miles!" Professor Wallace called after her, but made no other attempt to bring back her student. "You may take your seat, Potter," she said with a hint of animosity. Harry slowly walked back to his seat, fully aware of everyone's eyes following him, boring into him.
"Well, that was interesting," Hermione whispered to him once he was seated. Harry raised an eyebrow.
"What did he mean by that last thing," he whispered, surprised as much as Hermione was at his calmness.
"I'm not sure," she whispered back.
"What happened to Adrienne?" Harry asked, turning his attention to her empty seat. Hermione leaned back in her chair.
"Well, she ran out," was all she replied, earning her a patronizing glance from Harry.
"I surmised as much."
* * * * *
Adrienne ran through the empty corridors, her footsteps echoing behind her, acting as a shadow she couldn't escape. She pushed her way into the second floor bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her, leaning back against it, her palms pressed, her eyes tearing.
"Who's there?" came a voice from a nearby stall. Adrienne jumped and snapped her eyes open.
"Me, Adrienne," she said hesitantly, staring with a confused expression: All the stall doors were open.
"What do you want?" came the voice. Adrienne narrowed her eyes in curiosity and followed the sound of the voice, her footsteps now muffled by the puddles of water on the bathroom floor.
"Do they not clean this bathroom?" she asked, and a sniffle responded from the furthest away stall. Adrienne raised her eyebrows, took a deep breath, and stuck her head in. A pearly white girl was sitting atop the toilet, staring at her from behind huge, ugly glasses.
"You come in here and insult my bathroom?" the girl asked in frustration. Adrienne stared at her.
"Um, no, it's a nice bathroom, really it is, but a little wet,"
At this Moaning Myrtle screwed up her eyes.
"But I like wet, very; love water I do, really, honestly, I swear," Adrienne said hastily, realizing she must have offended the girl. Myrtle looked at her for a second, trying to decide how best to continue their limited conversation.
"That's it! You're just like everyone else! You all come in here and make fun of Myrtle, why? Because she's dead, she can't do anything about it. Let's all pick on Myrtle," she yelled. Adrienne raised her eyebrows.
"Um, sorry," she replied, and then stepped back from the stall, turned and quickly made her way to the bathroom door, not once looking in the mirror. She hadn't looked in the mirror since that day in the hospital wing, and she refused to do so again: She refused to see herself, to see who she really was, or at least, who the voice in her head said she was.
Adrienne walked quietly towards the Gryffindor common room.
'One gets drowned even in shallow water,' said the cold voice, echoing inside her skull. Adrienne rolled her eyes and quickened her pace. 'You know what that means?'
"Of course I do," she snapped aloud, earning her some odd looks from several nearby pictures.
'The destiny of a wolf cub is to become a wolf, even it is reared about the sons of men,' said the voice in a patronizing voice. Adrienne stopped dead in her tracks.
"And what does that mean?" she asked.
'You can't change your destiny,' it replied.
Ahead of Adrienne a large window showed the slowly falling snow drifting lazily to the ground, reflecting the sun's weak light. Adrienne preferred to focus on this and not the voice. She smiled slightly at its beauty.
'You can't change your destiny,' the voice repeated.
"I heard you the first time." Adrienne put her hands on her hips and continued to stare out the window.
"What are you talking about?" she asked. v 'You know exactly what I'm talking about.' Adrienne ripped her eyes from the window.
"No, I have no idea what you're talking about."
'Then you will.'
"Who are you?" she spat, gripping her hips so hard that it hurt.
'My dear Adrienne, you know who I am.'
Adrienne rolled her eyes. "I don't."
'Perfection has a price, Adrienne. You will pay it in full.'
"You never said who you were," she whispered, the voice's last sentence echoing through her mind, leaving her with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
'I am the only one who can help you fulfill your destiny. The question is not who I am though, it is who you are? The shallow water is always the most dangerous, is it not, Perfect? He will die, because of you, at your order, by your hand. And then you, Perfect, will follow him. Perfection has a price, Adrienne, I promise.'