The following weeks brought normalcy back to Aralynn's life. The whispers hadn't stopped, but they became easier to ignore. As did the hyperawareness of eyes following her every move. The feeling of being able to breathe again—to be able to walk the corridors without feeling small and scrutinized—was relieving. The weight anchoring her down lifted, and she was as light as air. Aralynn felt the best she had since her acceptance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was the most she could have asked for, and she was thankful for every second of that liberation. Of course, the disembodied voice that Harry heard in Lockhart's office remained a mystery. They still hadn't broached the subject with Hermione. Aralynn wanted to, and tried on more than one occasion, but Harry thwarted her efforts. Upon questioning her brother, he insisted that he be the one to tell Hermione. Then he asked for more time, to see whether he could pinpoint the source himself. Reluctantly, she agreed. She wouldn't mention anything to Hermione, but that didn't mean she wouldn't commit to her own research.

Which was what she did, starting a week after the incident. During their afternoon breaks, she would leave Harry, Ron, and Hermione to their own devices and meet Kiya in the library, where they would pore through book after book for any relevant writings. Unfortunately, their search hadn't garnered any success.

One rainy Saturday afternoon, just days before Halloween, Aralynn and Kiya were holed up in the library again. They sat opposite each other at a small table, listening to the repetitive plunking of fat raindrops hammering against the large stained-glass windows. It was a cold, dreary day, but Aralynn was more than happy to cozy up in her thick black sweater. The only downside was that their library prospects weren't any brighter than before. Apparently, nobody throughout history had heard a sinister, incorporeal voice before. If they had, they failed to record it. Why should solving Harry's mystery be easy?

Across the table, Kiya sighed and snapped the book she was reading shut. "Maybe Harry was tired," she suggested, though she didn't sound any more convinced of that than Aralynn felt.

Still, it was worth considering. "Maybe," Aralynn agreed. "It was past midnight by the time he got back to the Common Room."

"I find it hard to believe that none of these stupid, dead witches and wizards heard voices," Kiya grumbled. "Has no one ever gone crazy before?"

Aralynn gave Kiya a sharp, disapproving look. "Are you saying that you believe Harry has gone mad?"

"No," answered Kiya. "Of course not. I'm only saying that people have before, but I haven't seen a single book about it. Not even a sentence about it. Don't you guys have crazies in Britain?"

Despite the amused smile tickling Aralynn's lips, she suppressed it. "I doubt it's unique to America. What good would that kind of book do, anyway?"

"Well, there might be something about some witch or wizard who was locked away for hearing voices, even if it wasn't justified," Kiya explained. "At least we'd have confirmation of it happening."

The idea that Harry could only relate to someone locked in a guarded ward somewhere made Aralynn uncomfortable, but she couldn't pretend it wasn't worth contemplation. "If there are any records about that sort of thing, you'd find it in a book about St. Mungo's."

Kiya stared at her. The burnt orange sweater that she was wearing emphasized her copper eyes, brightening them. "What's St. Mungo's?"

"St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries," Aralynn explained. "It's a wizarding hospital in London. They treat all sorts of different things there."

Kiya let out a thoughtful hum. "There has to be something about the hospital in this huge library somewhere."

"I'm sure there is," Aralynn replied. "I don't know if there would be patient histories, though. That stuff is usually private, right?"

"Worth a look," Kiya said with forced enthusiasm. She pushed back from the table and went wandering through the many shelves.

Aralynn tried to focus again on what she was reading, but Kiya's harmless joke of a comment about insanity haunted her mind. Whether hearing voices in the Muggle world was normal, she didn't know, but it wasn't normal in the wizarding world. Not as far as she knew, anyway. Not only were there no texts about it, but she also couldn't recall anyone she had known mentioning it before. It was disconcerting. It hurt to nurture the thought that Harry might be going mad, so she wouldn't allow herself to think it at all. There was some explanation—there had to be. Wherever it was, she would find it.

Nevertheless, she couldn't focus on the book before her. There was nothing useful written in it, anyway. She pried her unfocused eyes away, looking out through the colored glass panels next to her. Hagrid's hut was barely in view, but the pumpkins he was growing showed like massive, bright orange lumps, even from a distance. They had to be nearing the size of garden sheds. She wondered how much larger they could possibly get before they were carved for the Halloween feast. The engorged pumpkins only provided a brief distraction from her anxious mind, so she welcomed thoughts about the feast when they flooded in.

When she was younger, she never believed that anyone put their all into holidays as her family did. Hogwarts proved her wrong. There was nothing comparable to the castle's magnificence during the holidays. The Great Hall looked exceptional the year prior. She couldn't imagine how it could be outdone, but she was positive it would happen. There was nothing like celebrations in a centuries-old castle staffed by some of the most enthusiastic people of all time. Even while in the thick of regretting her admission as a newcomer, she found difficulties mustering pessimism for too long while the Great Hall shimmered and sparkled festively.

Aralynn was looking forward to Halloween.

It was rather pleasant to be excited about the beautiful décor and impressive, mouthwatering feast the holiday would have to offer. Though she only had one other instance to reference back to, it still was a much-welcomed change of pace. Nothing overwhelming her mind too much to distract her from enjoying herself. No unrelentless questions, or feelings of incompletion. She was free. Outside of Harry's little problem, that was. However, he had remained in high spirits despite it, so there was a good chance she was overreacting out of love. Anyone would find that understandable, right?

Kiya loudly dropped an old, weathered book down on the small table, effectively pulling Aralynn from her reverie. She looked up to meet her friend's eyes. "Any luck?"

"No," Kiya replied huffily. "Just the personal history of Mungo Bonham and his journey to opening such an important hospital."

Aralynn's eyes flickered to the book she had thrown down. "What's that, then?"

"Mysteries of Magic," Kiya answered. She pulled back the front cover and began to skim over the words. She was determined to further along Aralynn's journey in finding information, but it was easy to see that her enthusiasm was waning. At least for the moment.

"I think we've looked enough for one day," Aralynn said casually, closing her own book that had long since lost her attention. "Why don't we call it?"

Kiya looked up, lips twitching as though she was trying with all her might to tamp down elation. "Are you sure?"

"We've already wasted half the day here." Aralynn looked out through the stained-glass window again, watching the shroud of gray clouds growing darker. "Not that it was a nice day, anyway."

As she closed the book, Kiya breathed with relief. "I think my eyes might melt out of my skull if I read another word."

"We've been spending too much time in the library," Aralynn admitted. Guilt stabbed its way through her while she thought about all the pointless efforts. It was one thing to waste her own time, but it was another to waste Kiya's time. It wasn't like she had to pester Kiya until she agreed, but that didn't make her feel any better.

Kiya shook her head firmly like she knew exactly what Aralynn was thinking. "I agreed to this," she said sternly. "If I can help, then I want to, and I will. That's what friends do."

Aralynn smiled at her. "You're a pretty good friend." She hadn't known her long, but it took even less time for them to become close. Ron didn't shy away from his disapproval, but Harry and Hermione welcomed Kiya with open arms. Of course, it was still hard knowing that the person she was closest to rejected Kiya's friendship, but it wasn't going to change her mind. One day, no matter how far in the future, he would accept her. Maybe even like her, but Aralynn didn't want to be too hasty.

Kiya was smiling back at her. "It's about the only thing I'm good at," she laughed. She lifted her shoulder bag from the floor, tucking Mysteries of Magic into the large pocket. "You should head back to your Common Room, anyway. I'm sure they've been wondering where you've been."

"Harry had Quidditch practice this morning," Aralynn said, replacing the books she had removed from the shelves. "With the way Wood is driving them, I'd be surprised if they're even done." She walked next to Kiya as they exited the library together. "I told Hermione I was coming here."

"And Ron?" Kiya probed.

Aralynn sighed. "Ron is being… difficult."

The corners of Kiya's mouth twitched. "Checks out of the conversation every time my name is brought up, huh?"

Aralynn was frowning. "Doesn't that bother you?"

"Not really," she answered. Nothing about her voice made Aralynn think she was lying. "It's not the first time someone hasn't liked me. I'm sure it won't be the last, either."

Aralynn's frown only grew wider. "It's unfair. He's going off nothing other than your house. You've done nothing to deserve the way he's been treating you." It was a conversation she was going to have to have with Ron. Again.

"That's just how it is around here," Kiya said with a dismissive shrug. "He's not the only person giving me the cold shoulder because I'm in Slytherin, Ara."

Aralynn looked at her. "Who else?"

Kiya shook her head. "That doesn't matter, but it's a pattern. There are a lot of people who think I'm in league with Malfoy." She snorted sarcastically. "As if."

Aralynn couldn't even imagine thinking that. Kiya wasn't reserved when it came to loathing Draco Malfoy. "Why would anybody ever think that?"

"I'm a Slytherin, aren't I?" she said, then continued before Aralynn could speak. "It's not a big deal, though. I get it. The other Slytherins have a weird hate bond keeping them together. Malfoy prances around like he owns the place, anyway. People just gravitate toward him for whatever insane reason. Why not me, too?"

"You're not like that," muttered Aralynn.

Kiya laughed. "Well, I know that… and so do you. That's all that matters."

Aralynn shook her head. Not because she didn't believe her, but because she was awed by her. She couldn't grasp how insults and impositions could just roll off Kiya's back. Like they were nothing. Like they meant nothing. Maybe they didn't, and that thought was even more unfathomable. She wished she could have even a modicum of Kiya's resilience. She wondered what it took to have that kind of armor.

After parting at the halfway point between their Common Rooms, Aralynn continued towards Gryffindor Tower. The corridors were mostly empty, but those she passed whispered and watched. She kept her eyes carefully trained ahead. She refused to acknowledge them. Whatever it was that they said, or even felt, didn't matter. She didn't care anymore. Bill's letter set in motion her ability to pretend like nothing was happening around her, but her time with her friends encouraged it. Kiya's words, just minutes ago, truly solidified it.

"Well, I know that… and so do you. That's all that matters."

It wasn't Kiyana's intention to make a point, but she was right, nonetheless. So long as Aralynn and her friends knew who she was, little else mattered. Just as Bill and Hermione had said, she had nothing to prove.

Maybe it was self-assuredness that made Kiya's defenses impenetrable.

After giving The Fat Lady the password, Aralynn stepped into the Gryffindor Common Room. Much to her surprise, Harry was already back from Quidditch practice. He was gathered near the roaring fire with Ron and Hermione. They were preoccupied with conversation as she approached.

"Hey," Aralynn greeted. "What're you talking about?"

Hermione smiled warmly up at her. "Harry was just telling us something."

Aralynn took a seat next to her brother, nudging him with her elbow. "Well, go on. What is it?"

Harry grinned at her. "Well, I ran into Nearly Headless Nick on my way back from practice—"

Hermione looked severely at Harry. "Sir Nicholas," she corrected.

Harry smiled sheepishly. "Right," he replied quickly, but hurried back to his story. "He's invited us to a party."

"A party for what?" Aralynn asked, eyes quickly shifting towards Ron, who was unusually quiet. He must have felt her gaze, because he looked up, but then immediately away. She frowned.

Harry hesitated. "Um… When he died."

Hermione perked up with a wide smile on her face. "A Deathday Party! That certainly sounds interesting! I can't imagine many living people have been to one of those. We should go! When is it?"

Harry hesitated again. "Well… That's the downside. It's on Halloween."

"Why is that a downside?" asked Hermione.

Harry sighed. "It's during the feast."

That was enough for Ron to break his odd vow of silence. "The feast? We can't miss the feast! It's the best part!"

"I'm sure there will be provisions," Hermione scolded.

Ron stared at her. "Hermione, ghosts can't eat."

"I know that," replied Hermione with a glower, "but if there are living in attendance, then I'm sure Sir Nicholas will accommodate."

Aralynn frowned. "Would he even think about it, though?" She didn't know how long it had been since Nearly Headless Nick had died, but it was safe to assume that it had been long enough for him not to think about people needing to eat. She didn't like their odds.

"I'm sure he would," replied Hermione, but she didn't sound very confident in the thought.

"I don't want to miss the feast," Ron whined. "We shouldn't go."

Harry tapped his fingers awkwardly on his jeans. "I, er… I sort of… already told him we'd come."

Ron's lower jaw hung open. "No!"

Aralynn tried not to smile at Ron's dramatic performance. She stared at the dancing flames, attempting to distract herself. She tried to sound even and reasonable when she spoke. "Don't you think you're being a little melodramatic, Ron? It's one night. We can spare that much."

Ron bristled. "One night that only comes once a year!"

Hermione didn't look ecstatic, but responsibility won over the disappointment. "Harry already told him that we're going, so we're going."

Ron seemed to be daydreaming. "The roast chicken…" he muttered somberly. He sobered, looking angry again. "Who'd want to celebrate the day they died, anyway? That's just loony!"

"Oh, shove it," Aralynn said with a huff. She turned towards Harry. "Do you mind if I invite Kiya?"

Harry smiled at her. "Not at all."

"That'll be nice," added Hermione with a grin. "I'm sure Kiya would enjoy herself. It'll be a learning experience if anything."

Aralynn smiled at Hermione, but her attention was drawn when she heard Ron scoff. She glared at him. "What?"

"Nothing," Ron replied sarcastically. "Nothing at all."

Aralynn knew why. She was sure they all knew why. They weren't stupid, and Ron was transparent at the best of times. "You're being ridiculous," she hissed. "Kiya hasn't done anything to you. She's nothing but nice, and you're still a jerk. Why?"

"I don't trust her," Ron answered sharply. "I think her showing up and following you around after everything that's happened is a little too convenient."

"After what's happened?" Aralynn questioned.

Ron looked at her like she was clueless. "After everyone found out that you're a Potter."

Aralynn couldn't stifle the disbelieving snort that came out of her nose. "What does that have to do with anything? Her family moved to London last June!"

"As far as you know," Ron shot back.

"There's literally no correlation."

Harry and Hermione were both looking between them uneasily.

Ron shook his head. "I'd bet there is. Kind of odd she shows up at Hogwarts this year, after the Potter thing. Who's to say she's not a spy trying to gather information for Malfoy? Maybe even You-Know - Who ."

Aralynn laughed aloud. "Are you serious? Ron, she's twelve."

"So? It'd be a pretty smart idea to turn a kid into a spy so that You-Know-Who can keep track of what you're doing. What you and Harry are both doing."

Aralynn was beyond belief. "She's also American."

Ron shrugged, looking back down at his Potions work. "Doesn't mean anything, Ara. I don't trust her, and I think you're stupid to."

"You're unbelievable," Aralynn grumbled. "Believing this insane conspiracy about an international transfer." She crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head angrily. "You know what? I think you're just jealous because I've been spending time with her."

Ron grimaced, but it wasn't a furious contortion. It was a pained one. That took Aralynn aback, but she remained silent, steeled by her conviction. All he said in response was a mumbled, "Whatever."

The quiet amongst them was tense. It weighed on them like it were tangible. There was still cheerful chatter surrounding them, leaving them in a confined pocket of strain. Aralynn was still furious. Ron might have been, too, but he just looked hurt. Neither Harry nor Hermione knew what they should, or even could, say. Ron and Aralynn had fought before, they'd both witnessed it, but none of their petty squabbles could compare to that explosion. It didn't seem too easy to fix, either. It wasn't something that could be resolved overnight. Maybe not even for weeks to come.

Harry was the first to break the silence. "I have another story…"

The tale of discovering the Kwikspell course in Filch's office managed to melt some layers off the developing ice encasing them. It wasn't enough, probably wasn't even a start, but it still posed a distraction. The four of them were laughing by the time something orange went whizzing in the air, sparking, and banging obnoxiously.

Fred and George had apparently "rescued" a salamander from their Care of Magical Creatures class. A small cluster of people had been examining it curiously when they considered what might happen if it was fed a Filibuster firework. The answer was: a show. Twinkling stars of fire shot from the salamander's mouth while it flurried rapidly around the room. There were admiring oohs and aahs coupled with panicked screams as Gryffindors threw their hands over their heads and dove out of the way when the salamander whirled too close. Eventually, the fireworks were spent, and the salamander landed right on the burning logs. People pushed in on the fireplace, staring at the flames with horror-stricken eyes, but the salamander remained unharmed. In fact, it seemed quite happy to settle there.

It didn't take long for Percy to stomp after Fred and George, red-faced and seething as he screamed after them. Everyone in the room had turned to watch, and when their prefect chased the twins up the stairs, the room swelled with exuberant laughter. For a while, it was like nothing in the world had ever gone wrong. No whispers, unexplainable voices, or feuds. Still, Aralynn was careful to keep her eyes away from Ron. She didn't want any reminders that they were very much at odds.

When the hour grew late, and the inky sky outside was broken by brilliant flashes of purple lightning strikes, those remaining headed to their dormitories to sleep. Undoubtedly, most of them dreamed about the Filibuster Salamander and the dazzling fireworks that shot from its mouth.

Aralynn certainly did.

By the time Halloween arrived, none of them were feeling excited about Nearly Headless Nick's celebration of death. There had been discussions amongst the students about how spectacular the Great Hall was going to look and how delicious dinner was going to taste. According to the rumors, it was going to far surpass any of the previous years. Uncertainty about whether that would turn out truthful aside, they were still disappointed about having to miss the feast at all. They were even less thrilled with Harry for impulsively agreeing to attend the Deathday Party for them. None of them complained, no matter how badly they wanted to, as they were positive that Harry was just as displeased with himself. There were a handful of occurrences where Harry considered telling Nick that they couldn't attend after all, but Hermione wouldn't stand for it. "A promise is a promise," she insisted each time.

Having to pass the Great Hall—to smell the flavorful aromas and hear the hearty laughter—was torture. All they could do to fight against their overwhelming desires to turn, and head right inside, was bow their heads, and pretend like there were no massive double doors sitting ajar.

There was one thought Aralynn had that they all shared: why did Sir Nicholas have to die on Halloween?

Before they could put a reasonable distance between the Great Hall and themselves, Ron staggered to a stop next to one of the standing torches outside of the doors. He peered through the crack, watching the people inside enjoying themselves. A deep frown sunk into his face. Sometimes it was like there was some genetic component that required him to complain. "Couldn't we…" he paused. "Couldn't we just go in for a few minutes? Ten, at the most."

"No," Hermione responded strictly. "We have an obligation. We can't be late."

Ron continued staring longingly inside the room. "Only to have a quick bite to eat. We don't have to take too long. Just twenty minutes."

Harry looked like he was inclined to agree with Ron, but he'd never speak it aloud for fear of Hermione's wrath. "She's right, Ron. Nick is expecting us. We have to go."

Ron bit his lip. "What if there's no food at the party? Just thirty minutes…"

Aralynn wondered if she was the only one noticing that Ron was extending the time whenever he spoke. Part of her wanted to point it out, just to annoy him, but the rest of her wasn't in the mood for further arguments. The strain between them hadn't improved in the slightest. They still weren't speaking to each other.

Hermione sighed sharply. "You started with ten minutes. How are we now at thirty?" Well, at least Hermione noticed, too.

Ron willfully took her words as agreement and brightened. "Great! Forty minutes, then. Let's go!" He turned to walk into the Great Hall, but Hermione grabbed the sleeve of his robe and tugged him back.

The hard stare Hermione was giving him could have made stronger men crumble. "We are not stopping, Ron. We are going to be late. Let's go."

Ron's shoulders sagged in defeat. He didn't respond, but simply waved the girl ahead with the glummest of faces.

They continued downstairs. As they turned down the passageway towards the dungeon where the party was being held, they stepped into an ominous tunnel of candlelight. The thin, black tapers that lined the walls were lit by pale blue flames. The ghoulish color flickering dimly against the stone created a foreboding ambiance. It grew colder as they approached—so cold that their chattering teeth echoed loudly around them. It felt much like they were walking to their own deaths. Before rounding the corner, they froze in place at the most grating sound they had ever heard. It was like scraping, perhaps knives against metal pipes, or fingernails on chalkboards.

"Is that supposed to be music?" Ron whispered, looking incredulously between Harry and Hermione. He made a point not to look at Aralynn.

"Well, there is a certain… rhythm to it," Harry muttered.

"If that's what you call it," Ron said with a shake of his head.

Distantly behind them, they nearly jumped out of their skin when they heard someone call after them with an eager, "Hey!"

The four of them spun around, but considerably relaxed when they saw Kiyana jogging toward them. At least the sound of her footsteps drowned out the awful scraping noise for a short while.

Aralynn smiled. "You came!"

Kiya came to a stop once she reached them, panting. "Of course!" she said breathlessly. "You invited me, didn't you?"

"That didn't mean you were coming," Aralynn teased.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Kiya stated with a bright smile. She paused to look at the otherworldly blue aura enclosed around them. "This is uh… charming. In a super creepy sort of way."

Aralynn laughed. "It's a little unsettling, isn't it?"

"A little," Kiya agreed with a grin. "It's fitting for a Deathday Party, though, I'll say that."

"It'll be quite fun," Hermione said pleasantly. "A lucrative learning opportunity, at the least."

"I'm sure it'll be great," Kiya responded. "Are we ready?"

"No," came Ron's hard voice.

They all turned to stare at him. Harry looked confused. "Aren't we?"

"No," said Ron again indignantly. "We're not."

Hermione sighed. "What now?"

Aralynn's own expression quickly soured. "Do you have to be like this right now? Can't we save it for later?"

"No, we can't," replied Ron firmly. Instead of looking at any of them when they addressed him, he simply glared at Kiya.

"You're being ridiculous," Aralynn hissed.

Kiya looked between them, but she seemed unusually serene. "Is there a problem?"

Aralynn opened her mouth to speak, but Ron quickly interrupted. "Yes, there is. You're the problem."

Kiya's face remained unchanged. "Did I do something wrong?"

Aralynn laughed bitterly. "Well, that's exactly it, isn't it? You haven't done anything, but Ron is determined to act like an ass."

Ron turned his glare towards Aralynn. "Just because she hasn't done anything yet doesn't mean she won't. I don't trust her, and I especially don't trust her not to be some spy for Malfoy or worse! I've already told you this."

"She's standing right here, you know!" Aralynn shouted. "Might as well tell her directly!"

Ron scowled. "She just heard me, didn't she?"

Kiya was utterly silent, but she still didn't seem the slightest bit perturbed. There was an unbreakable calmness on her face that Aralynn couldn't understand. She would be furious to hear someone say such horrible things about her, even if she decided that nobody else's opinion mattered. She wished she could be even remotely as uninfluenceable.

"Ron, come on," Harry urged while he tugged on his robe sleeves. "Let's just go and enjoy the party."

"I'm not going to enjoy anything so long as she's here," Ron retorted, jerking his sleeve from Harry's grip.

"You're being rather unreasonable," Hermione chided.

"I don't care."

"Well, I do," Aralynn said through her teeth.

Ron shrugged. Shrugged like who she cared about meant absolutely nothing to him. It hurt her far more than she thought possible.

Somehow, a smile appeared on Kiya's face. "It's okay," she assured. "It's kind of you all to come to my defense, but Ron isn't obligated to like me. I don't want to impose. I'll head down to the feast!"

"I'll go with you," Aralynn muttered.

Ron's stiff expression flickered and broke. His arms fell from his chest to hang at his sides. He frowned at Aralynn. "What? Ara, no." There was a pause. "Nick thinks you're coming, too."

Aralynn didn't look at Ron. Instead, she turned towards Harry. "Give Nick my apologies, will you? I never wanted to disappoint him."

Harry smiled weakly. "I will."

"Tell me everything you learn," Aralynn said to Hermione.

Hermione nodded. "I'll be happy to."

Ron took a hesitant step forward. "Ara—"

Aralynn refused to acknowledge him. She stood at Kiya's side, waving down the opposite direction of the hall. "Let's go to the feast."

They walked away from the group together, back towards the much warmer and much more inviting Great Hall. They were silent for most of the short walk. As they neared the doors, Kiya glanced over. "You know you didn't have to come, right?"

"I wasn't going to let you be alone when I invited you to spend time with me," Aralynn replied quietly.

"I wouldn't have minded," Kiya shrugged. "If you would have rather gone to the party, that'd be okay."

Aralynn shook her head. "I don't want to be anywhere near Ron right now."

"He seemed upset."

Aralynn rolled her eyes. "He seemed like a jerk."

"Two things can be true at one time," Kiya smiled.

"Well, he can stay upset. He's put me in that position more than enough this year."

"Maybe it would be better if we weren't friends," Kiya suggested, though there was a slight frown on her face while she said it.

Aralynn paused, staring at her. "No way. I couldn't do that to you."

Kiya smiled again. "I don't want to make things complicated for you."

Aralynn sighed. "They were already complicated."

Kiya hummed. "More complicated, then."

"No. You're my friend. Ron will have to deal with it."

"If you're sure…"

"I'm sure."

Aralynn and Kiya walked into the Great Hall together. Despite being inside for only a few seconds, they were sure to have more fun there than at the Deathday Party. The festivities were well underway. Along one of the long walls near the High Table, the choir was singing upbeat songs of the spooky variety while Professor Flitwick instructed them. The pumpkins that had been growing in Hagrid's garden were the size of boulders, their carved faces—ranging from frightening to downright silly—glowed brightly from the burning candles inside. There were transfigured skeletons climbing the walls and swinging from the black and orange streamers hanging from the ceiling. Enchanted paper bats fluttered about, weaving in and out of students' heads. Tiny zombie figurines shambled slowly along the long house tables, moving between the centerpieces of candy-filled cauldrons, and moaning lowly. The floating candles above were black rather than white, with blood dripping off the wax and falling, but disappearing just before they touched anyone. Their flames were ruby red, but still emitted the same warm, yellow glow as they always did. The professors sitting at the High Table in the front of the room were adorned with costumes. Except for Professor Snape, but it would be easy to pretend like he was dressed as a vampire.

"Wow," Aralynn breathed. "This definitely beats a ghost party." While she thought about it, there wasn't a ghost in sight. They must have been in the dungeons celebrating Sir Nicholas's death.

"Well, we'll never know," Kiya teased. "At least it isn't as cold as an igloo in here."

Instead of sitting with her housemates, Kiya followed Aralynn to the Gryffindor table. Aralynn sat down next to George, while Kiya settled on her opposite side. They wasted no time in filling their plates. There were so many options. Roast chicken, honeyed ham, boiled and mashed potatoes, dinner rolls, buttered corn cobs, candied apples, pumpkin pasties…

"I hope Ron's sorry he missed this," Aralynn remarked, taking a huge bite of mashed potatoes.

"Anyone would be," Kiya said, chugging pumpkin juice from her goblet. "This is amazing."

"Didn't Ilvermorny celebrate?" asked Aralynn.

"Yeah, of course, but it was nothing like this," Kiya said. "Hogwarts knows how to do it right."

Aralynn smiled with feigned smugness. "Hogwarts is superior."

Kiya smiled brightly at her. "You aren't lying."

George turned towards Aralynn while Fred leaned over. They both eyed her and Kiya suspiciously. "Where's Ron?" asked George.

"Or Harry," added Fred.

"Or Hermione," George agreed.

Aralynn looked over. "They're at a Deathday Party for Sir Nicholas."

They grimaced simultaneously. "Why?" said Fred.

Aralynn shrugged. "They were invited."

George cocked an eyebrow. "And you weren't?"

Aralynn sighed. "I was."

"Then why aren't you there?" asked Fred.

Aralynn grimaced at the pleasantly ignored memory. "Ron and I got into a fight."

Fred and George looked at each other with a concurrent, "Uh-oh."

Aralynn huffed. "It's his fault. He was being an ass."

"About what?" Fred wondered.

"Something stupid," replied Aralynn resentfully.

"Come on," pressed Fred.

"Tell us," prodded George.

Aralynn gestured to Kiya at her side. "About my new friend."

They both focused on her, eyeing the green and silver tie more clearly than before. "A snake!" George shrieked lightheartedly.

"Among us lions!" Fred added with fake outrage.

Kiya smiled at them. "Don't worry. I don't bite."

"No," said George.

"But we might," finished Fred with a wink.

"I'll take my chances," Kiya said, turning her nose up playfully.

"Why was Ickle Ronniekins upset about?" George questioned. "She seems nice enough to us."

"We like her," Fred nodded.

"She's a Slytherin," Aralynn said, disgusted. As if that should ever be enough to dislike someone.

George looked confused. "And…?"

Aralynn shrugged. "And that's it. That's the only reason."

Fred smacked his lips thoughtfully. "I don't understand."

Aralynn scoffed. "Join the club."

"They think I'm in cahoots with Malfoy," Kiya explained. "Or worse, as he said."

Aralynn winced. She had hoped, futilely, that Kiya hadn't caught that bit. She didn't want to have to explain that one of Ron's theories was that she was some child soldier for Voldemort.

Fred raised an eyebrow. "What could be worse?" Thankfully, he was still talking to Kiyana.

Kiya's gaze flickered toward Aralynn. It seemed knowing somehow, but Aralynn hoped it wasn't. After a moment, she shrugged. "Who knows?"

George hummed. "Are you in cahoots with Malfoy?"

Kiya gagged performatively. "Absolutely not."

George shook his head. "Then what's the problem?"

Aralynn grumbled. "Ask your brother that."

"Don't worry, Ara," said Fred with a smile.

George nodded. "We've got your back."

Aralynn smiled at them. "Thanks."

Suddenly, Fred and George became serious. It was a rare occurrence, and it never failed to knock Aralynn down a peg. "Bill wrote," Fred said, speaking quieter then. "He told us you were having a hard time."

George nodded. He glanced towards Kiya, to make sure that she wasn't listening in case Aralynn didn't want her to know, then looked back at her. "He asked us to look out for you."

Aralynn offered a small smile. "You don't have to worry. Everything is fine now."

"It's stopped, then?" Fred queried. "They aren't whispering anymore?"

Aralynn frowned. "Well… No. It hasn't stopped. I just don't care anymore. Bill gave me some good advice. As did Hermione and Kiya. I've just been ignoring them. It was hard at first, but it's gotten easier."

The twins were both frowning. George leaned closer. "Has anyone been bullying you, Ara?"

"No," Aralynn answered. Maybe too quickly. They looked suspicious.

"You can tell us," Fred said. "We'll deal with them."

Aralynn shook his head. "That's not necessary. It's been fine. No one's said anything to me, they just talk amongst themselves whenever I'm around. As I said, I've been ignoring them."

"What about Fay Dunbar?" asked George.

Aralynn sighed. "That was at the beginning of the term. It's a thing of the past now."

"But what did she say?" Fred asked.

"It doesn't matter," Aralynn insisted, but they didn't seem eager to drop the subject. "Really, neither of you need to worry. I'm doing just fine now. I can handle myself."

George blinked, like she said something appalling. "Of course. That was never a question."

"You're one fierce broad, Flame Brain," Fred agreed with a smile. "Tough as nails. We know you can fight your own battles. We only want to help. Can't stand the thought of anyone bullying you…"

George nodded. "Any of you. We wouldn't stand for it."

Aralynn could see Kiya grinning out of the corner of her eye. She smiled at the twins. "I know, but everything's okay. I'm okay. I promise."

"You let us know if that changes," Fred said sternly.

"We'll be right beside you," George added.

Aralynn grinned. "I wouldn't expect anything less. Thank you. I love you guys."

They both beamed. "We love you, too."

Fred and George's attention was shortly stolen by the sound of something exploding. Half of the table erupted with laughter, and as Aralynn looked towards the commotion, she could see Seamus Finnegan sitting rigidly, wand drawn, face blackened with soot, and hair spiked towards the ceiling, singed and smoldering. Whatever he had been trying to do backfired terribly—literally exploded. That was something Seamus had a knack for doing. Those who had been gathered around him worked to snuff the embers that the parchment before him had become.

Aralynn turned towards Kiya, fully prepared to talk to her about something, but was stopped by a strange feeling washing over her. She couldn't quite discern why, but alarms were ringing in her mind. She was struck with an overcoming sense of doom—of danger and dread. It was odd, though, because none of those feelings seemed to pertain to her; like she was feeling them on behalf of someone else. There must have been fear in her features, because Kiya looked just as horrified when she looked over.

"What, Ara?" asked Kiya quietly, looking around them warily. "What is it?"

"I don't know," Aralynn muttered. She focused on the feeling, trying to place it. The more attention she gave it, the colder her blood ran. "Something's wrong…"

Kiya looked confused. "What's wrong?" She looked around them again, but the crowd in the Great Hall was as cheerful as ever. Nobody else seemed as edgy as Aralynn did.

"I don't know!" Aralynn said louder than she meant to. She was becoming hysterical, but extremely frustrated all the same, because she couldn't figure out why she was plunging right into hysterics.

"I don't see anything wrong in here," Kiya informed her. "Even Seamus is laughing again. Could it be in the corridors, or something?"

Aralynn shook her. She didn't know, but she didn't want to speak while she tried to goad the panic into giving her some kind of answer. She knitted her eyebrows together, pouring all her focus into the tight ball twisting in her chest. It continued to grow and grow until… "Harry!" she cried, face paler than ever. "Harry's in trouble!"

Kiya blinked. "How?"

Aralynn was already out of her seat. "I don't know, but I have to find him!"

"Ara, wait!" Kiya called after her, but Aralynn was already rushing out of the Great Hall. She immediately began to run after her. Lucky for them both, everyone's attention was drawn to the Frog Choir as they performed Blood Sucker by the popular wizarding band, Weird Sisters.

Aralynn had no idea where she was going. All she knew was that she had to find Harry, but she didn't know where to look. The feast was nearing its end, so she could only assume that Sir Nicholas's Deathday Party would be, as well. Even if the ghosts had intentions to rage on throughout the night, there was only so long that Harry, Ron, and Hermione would have been able to tolerate the freezing temperatures and morbidity. They could have still been there, or even back in the Gryffindor Common Room, for all she knew. She was blind in the dark, but the anxious racing of her heart urged her forward. She only wished her instincts, her "twintuition" as Fred and George called it, gave her some path to follow. She would even take the smallest of hints if it meant finding Harry quicker.

Harry was in danger, and that was all that mattered.

The hallways were empty as she ran through them. The feast would end at any moment, but it hadn't yet, and she was thankful for that. It kept the teachers busy, kept them from chasing her down and giving her detention for running wild through the castle. Perhaps even stop them from expelling her. Both Professor McGonagall and Molly Weasley had warned her that another ounce of trouble would have her promptly expelled. She couldn't bring herself to care about that, though—not when Harry was in trouble. Her quick feet only grew more frantic when she realized that Harry's danger meant that Ron and Hermione were also in danger. She could hardly hear anything over the sounds of her pounding footsteps, but she did hear something. Shouting in the distance. She jerked towards where she thought she heard it coming from, following it. Hopefully, it would lead her to Harry.

She took one of the staircases three steps at a time, rounded several corners, and then she saw the three of them coming into view. Harry looked as distraught as she felt. Ron and Hermione were at either of his sides, panting and completely bewildered. "IT'S GOING TO KILL SOMEONE!" Harry shouted.

Aralynn skidded to a halt before them, clutching her hand over her heaving chest. "Harry!" she screeched desperately, breathlessly. "What's going on? Are you okay?" Her words came out garbled, mangled by her breathless lungs. "I felt…" She shook her head. "What's wrong?"

"I heard it again," Harry said, eyes round and wide with shock. "The voice… it was moving this time. It's… hungry. It's going to kill!" The latter of his sentence came out louder, a half shout.

Aralynn looked between Ron and Hermione. "Did you hear it?"

Ron looked hesitant to respond after their latest blowup, but still shook his head.

"No," answered Hermione quietly.

"It was just here," said Harry. "It's gone now, but… Ara, you were close enough! Did you hear it?"

Aralynn swallowed thickly. She had only heard Harry because he was louder than her own feet, but she was sure she would have recognized the voice he had described as cold and sinister, no matter how quiet it might have been. "I didn't hear anything."

Harry turned, and Aralynn only then realized that Kiya had been following her. "W-What about you?"

Kiya frowned at him. "I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't hear it, either."

Harry put a hand to his forehead. "I can't believe this…"

They were startled when Hermione suddenly gasped. It sent a piercing chill through their bones. They turned, looking down the deserted corridor, towards where her shaking, outstretched arm was pointing.

The five of them stepped cautiously closer, squinting through the thickening darkness as they inched towards something glistening on the wall.

Aralynn looked down at the floor when she heard splashing, realizing that there was water seeping out from underneath the nearby door in a small flood. She looked back up at the wall. Illuminated by standing torches on either side, underneath the window, was a message. A message written in dark red liquid. It almost looked like blood.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

"What… What is that?" Kiya whispered, but it was loud enough for the four of them to hear. "Underneath?"

The others then noticed the water on the floor. They inched closer more tentatively, wary about both the slick stone underfoot and the dark shadow beneath the message. As soon as they realized what it was, they recoiled with horror. The water beneath them splashed with their backward movement, echoing off the quiet, still walls.

Mrs. Norris, caretaker Argus Filch's cat, was the shadow. She was suspended on one of the torch brackets by her tail. She was completely still, unmoving in any way, like stone. Her lamp-like eyes were open largely, staring, but unseeing. They had no idea if she was dead, but she certainly looked dead.

Aralynn clasped her hand over her mouth, frozen in place. None of them moved, completely horrified by the sight before them.

"We need to get out of here," Ron said. Still, none of them moved.

Hermione swallowed hard. "What about Mrs. Norris?"

"Shouldn't we…" Harry hesitated, staring at the lifeless cat. "Help?"

"What can we do?" Ron said, shaking his head. "We can't afford to get caught here, Harry."

"Ron's right," Aralynn croaked. "We should go."

In the distance, thousands of encroaching feet thundered. The crowd from the Great Hall was about to catch them, essentially, at the scene of a crime. The outlook was bleak. There was no rhyme or reason why they wouldn't blame them for whatever happened to Mrs. Norris, and the writing… They would surely shoulder responsibility for that, too.

Aralynn whirled towards Kiya with an urgent whisper. "Get out of here!"

Kiya stared at her. "What?"

Aralynn shook her head. "Look, we just attract this kind of trouble. You shouldn't have to be dragged down with us. You have to get out of here. Hide, or something!"

Kiya was baffled. "Ara—"

"She's right," Ron interceded. His voice was surprisingly soft. "You don't want to be caught here with us. Trust me."

Kiya looked between Ron and Aralynn. She looked around, trying to find somewhere to go, but the approaching crowd was coming from either end of the corridor. She was trapped. Thoughtlessly, she quickly ducked into the room where the water was coming from. Aralynn hoped she could find somewhere suitable to hide.

The roar of footsteps suddenly silenced, as did the merry, spirited chatter. There was a long, confused silence, but it was shortly broken by several alarmed gasps. At the center of it all, Harry, Ron, Aralynn, and Hermione stood awkwardly. Like mannequins on display—criminals at trial. They felt hopeless. Hermione might be safe but the remaining three were sure that expulsion was imminent.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware!" shouted a cold, grotesquely amused voice. "You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

Aralynn looked over, where she saw Draco Malfoy standing at the head of the crowd. His pale pointed face was twisted into a callous, disgustingly cheerful sneer. His cheeks were uncharacteristically flushed, like he was pleased to see the (possibly) dead cat hanging from the torch bracket. It took every ounce of willpower she had to stop herself from tackling him to the stone floor and pummeling him to a pulp.

The students began parting. "Make way!" someone shouted irritably. "What's going on here?!" Aralynn paled to see Filch walking down the path that had been created for him. He paused by Draco, poking him in the chest until he fell back into the crowd with the others. He turned again. "What's going on?"

They couldn't say anything. They just looked at the immobile cat.

Filch followed their gazes. He staggered, stumbling backward, before rushing himself forward. "Mrs. Norris!" he wailed. The desperation in his voice made Aralynn flinch. "No!"

Then, Filch turned on them. The fire from his eyes sent heat spreading through their bodies. If looks could kill, they would have been dead on the spot. There was no wondering about their fate. They were, unequivocally, damned.