Er, I haven't got much to say except, "SEVEN DAYS LEFT OF MY PUBLIC EDUCATION!!!!" Ah hem, enjoy.
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"Umphfff."
Groaning and muttering a few curses under her breath, Malon pried herself off the stairs trying to remember exactly what had just happened. There had been someone else here just moments ago; she was sure of it.
"Hullo?" she called up the stairs.
She was coming down, you prat.
Malon turned, but there wasn't anyone at the bottom of the tower either.
"I'm glad to know that common courtesy now extends to leaving someone you've just plowed knocked out on the stairs!" she shouted at absolutely no one, managing to lose her balance and tumble down the staircase.
She hit the bottom hard. "This is really not my night."
"I wouldn't hold out much hope for the rest of the year then," commented a young wizard in a painting of a bare stone room.
"Thanks for that bright ray of sunshine," she responded dryly. "You didn't happen to see who smashed into me a few minutes ago, did you?"
He raised an eyebrow, looking rather amused. "Like I have nothing better to do than stare into the corridors."
"You're a painting."
He smirked at her. "For your information, I did see something, but I don't think I ought to tell you."
Malon whipped her wand out of a robe pocket. "I know… things!"
His grin widened. "Definitely not a Ravenclaw, are you?"
A glare that would have made any Slytherin proud appeared on the girl's face. "I am really going to enjoy doing this to you."
As she began what was sure to be a very creative charm, his face paled. He lifted both hands in the manner of a criminal caught in the act. "Truce! I'll tell you everything!"
She lowered her wand and looked at him expectantly.
"I swear this is all I saw. Someone ran up, and then someone ran down. I thought it was the same person until you came rolling down the stairs… literally."
"Thank you. That was really helpful and definitely worth the time and energy," she quipped with a scowl. "I'm going to be late to the sorting."
She turned and began walking briskly away, hearing but pretending to ignore the painting wizard tell her, "Take your time. I'm pretty sure you don't need to worry about that."
Malon retraced her steps, avoiding the entrance hall and the vast number of first years who were due to arrive at any moment. Or perhaps they had arrived already. She quickened her steps, comforted by the familiar sound of her shoes echoing up the empty hallway and the fact that empty hallways meant that the feast was not over yet.
Her stomach growled hungrily as she reached the doors to the great hall. Pulling one open just a crack, she slid in and stopped.
"Bloody hell." It was empty.
The feast is not over. The feast is not over. This thought ran through her mind as if on a loop as she burst back out of the hall.
"What time is it?" she demanded of several portraits, most of whom were dozing and merely blinked up at her sleepily. Frantically she moved up the hallway, running awkwardly between the paintings. After she had asked every single one between the great hall and the first staircase up to the tower, her brain kicked back in.
You're wearing a watch.
Dumbly, she stared down at her wrist. 1:08.
"Merlin's pajamas," she muttered, "I did not just spend five hours unconscious on the south tower stairs."
A middle-aged witch who was creepily enough, wide-awake inside her cozy-looking portrait eyed her curiously. "Then what were you doing?"
"I was passed out on the south tower stairs. What, did you miss the sarcasm and panic my voice is drowning in?"
The witch blinked at her, shocked by the girl's short answer.
"I haven't got time for this. I hate paintings," Malon informed her, taking off up the staircase.
She sprinted nonstop up the various stairs and corridors, navigating twists and turns without a thought and remembering trick steps in just the nick of time. Finally reaching the entrance to the tower, she collapsed in front of the fat lady clutching at the stitch in her side and gasping for breath.
"Breaking curfew already?" the portrait-witch asked disapprovingly.
"Not… my fault," Malon managed, pulling herself back into a standing position. She leaned against the portrait frame heavily. "Just let me in, please."
"Generally, this is the part where you give me the password."
"Bugger."
The fat lady stared at her for a few moments as the
girl watched her keenly. "That's not
it, I'm afraid."
Malon smiled sardonically.
"Really." There was a long pause
before she continued, "You see, I missed the sorting and the feast because
someone knocked me over on the steps to… er, the hall. I haven't seen any Gryffindors since, so I
haven't been told the password. I'm
sure someone in the common room will vouch for me. Ron, Hermione, and Harry must be waiting."
"The common room's been empty for hours. Everyone is in bed."
Malon felt like she was going to cry. She wanted to ask, you mean, no one was worried? Instead, she heard her voice reply, "You can't just let me in?"
"Heightened security… and I thought poor Neville would be the first to fall victim to it," the fat lady told her in an empathizing voice.
A tear rolled down the sixth-year's cheek, making her feel about two years old. "I have to stay out here all night?"
The pink-wearing guardian nodded gently, looking like she'd reach out and hug the girl if not for the fact that she was two-dimensional.
"But what if Mrs. Norris finds me? Or Peeves." She shuddered.
"I'm really very sorry, love."
Miserably, Malon pulled her hands up into the sleeves of her robes and wrapped her arms around herself as she sat in the most shadowed corner, shivering and sobbing into her knees until she fell into an unrestful sleep.
She was unsure how long she'd been there when she heard voices nearby.
"I can't believe you forgot about the Marauder's Map, Harry. Aurora magnum."
"You forgot about it too," he returned pointedly, during what she realized was a long yawn from the fat lady.
"Have you three been out all this time?" she queried reproachfully.
"We can't find Malon anywhere," Ron explained, his voice sounding tight with apprehension. "She never showed up at the feast."
The hidden girl's mind fought to rouse her from her sleepy state, but was losing the battle with her exhaustion. She knew her ticket back into the tower was just a few feet away, but she sat frozen and at a loss for words.
Fortune and the fat lady smiled on her, however. Hermione had seen the portrait's glance toward the corner, and she stepped nearer, peering into the thick darkness.
"Malon!"
This exclamation did the trick. Malon felt her body and mind unlock, and she leaped to her feet, embracing Hermione fiercely.
Ron, too, feel victim to a ferocious hug when he ran over, as did Harry who stepped back and admonished in a parental voice, "Where have you been? We've been worried sick!"
They entered the common room together and sat around the warm fire, welcome comfort after the breezy chill of the halls. All the while, Malon explained the events of the evening, concluding with, "And I really hate portraits."
She formed her mouth into a smile she didn't really feel as she was met with the concerned expressions of her friends.
"D'you think…" Ron began, glancing at Harry for support.
His brilliant green eyes fell from Malon to an obscure area of the sofa. "I think we ought to go to Dumbledore."
"What?" Malon asked sharply, watching all three of them jump. "It's not that big a deal."
Hermione looked ready to disagree, but Harry gestured her to remain quiet as his eyes looked probingly into Malon's. "Perhaps you're right. I'm sure the castle is safe."
This served as the end of the discussion. The four sixth-years moved onto lighter topics, wondering how many classes they would have to endure with Slytherin house and when they would first have class with the new professor. They laughed and talked for several hours before falling asleep on the couches one by one. Malon was the last to drift away with a smile on her face, thinking as she lost consciousness something her mum had once told her. A strange, powerful magic is found in friendship; together you are something you could never be alone.
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