Chapter 2
"We are very disappointed in you, Celestina," Godric Gryffindor informed her solemnly.Celestina had, once again, found herself in the headmaster's office. Gryffindor's magnificent room was nothing short of an adventure each time Celestina entered, even under the circumstances. Every inch of the wall up to the height of five feet was covered with the most magnificent, shining mahogany shelves, and on these shelves were the most fascinating objects. To be sure, there were enough books to fill many, many libraries, and Celestina had a sneaking suspicion that if she were to pull a few dozen books off the shelves, there would be still more underneath. Most of these were huge books, filled to the brim with knowledge of the ages, and the legends and stories from long ago. And there were other items, like the magnificent little horse-and-carriage models that pranced about the shelves as if they were paths up a mountain. Celestina's favorite, however, was a silver music box. The flowery designs engraved into it looked like a thousand sterling silver flowers blooming all at once in a cold spring morning. The tune, which she had heard before, was a little haunting melody, which sounded exactly like a small girl tripping along in a frozen meadow of flowers in the dead of night, unaware of the dangers around her. Celestina could picture the scene so vividly in her mind that she didn't doubt it for a moment. The composer of the tune had been the little girl in the meadow, she was sure of it. Above the shelves were paintings of great witches and wizards, including one of the four founders of Hogwarts surrounding the cornerstone that had been laid, and a large one of Godric Gryffindor, giving the most regal, imposing, yet boyish smile he had.
The real Gryffindor stood below his image, ever feature matching exactly except the smile. Though the golden hair and the grave blue eyes matched, the smile was turned upside down. He was not pleased.
"Fancy a girl causing this trouble on her peers," Salazar Slytherin said with the slight sneer on his face.
"Fancy a teacher not listening to that girl's side of the story," Celestina retorted angrily.
"Ooh, we must learn to control that temper, now, mustn't we?" Helga Hufflepuff said in her most motherly voice. "Sit back and breathe deeply, my dear, or else you shall end up in the most unpleasant trouble a young woman such as yourself can ever expect to find herself in."
Celestina wanted to yell that she saw no good in her sitting in the chair, uncomfortably aware of the four wizards and witches circling her perch like hawks. The only pang of remorse came from the hurt, betrayed look on her mother's face. Every time Rowena met her daughter's eye, Celestina felt that she should apologize. But when she saw Salazar's sneering expression, she felt just as sure that she would never admit to anything wrong. The man was a pathetic excuse for a tyrant.
"We shall step outside for a minute, Celestina," said Godric Gryffindor imperiously, "to consider your punishment. Stay here while we are outside."
They all filed out the door, one after the other. Rowena caught Celestina's eye one last time before the large mahogany door shut with a I thud /I . Celestina could hear the brass knocker bumping ever so slightly against the other side as it closed, and then she settled back in her chair, waiting for her punishment.
Waiting?she suddenly asked herself. Waiting for what? To be reprimanded like a little child? I am not a child, I am seventeen – I shall do what I please!And she stood up, as if that were enough to defy the whole lot of them.
Her eyes fell on the engraved silver music box. Just take it,her mind told her. He'll probably never miss it, he has dozens of trinkets just like it… Celestina approached the shelf slowly, as if not believing her intentions. But she knew what she was about to do, even if, somewhere in the pit of her heart, she had no desire to. Her mother's face swam into her mind's eye. She would not want you to, Celestina… But in an instant, the box was in her hand, and her wand was in the other. With one short movement, she shrank the box, slipped it into her pocket, and fell back into the seat just as the four of them trooped back in.
"Orion Black is in the hospital wing being cured, Celestina," Rowena solemnly told her daughter. "Do you not feel any sort of regret at all?"
Celestina stared hard at Salazar's face, willing herself not to glance at her mother. "No."
"Not any?"
"No."
Rowena sighed and went silent, as if all hope was lost.
"We have no choice but to punish you most severely for this, child," Godric Gryffindor said regretfully. Celestina could tell he was truly sorry for saying this. "Come outside. Do not struggle and it will go easier with you."
Celestina stood. What are they going to do to me? she wondered.
She got to her feet, suddenly feeling dizzy, and followed Godric Gryffindor and her mother out the door. Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin, the latter looking delightedly evil, came close behind.
They walked down twisting corridors, up large flights of stairs, and around dark corners Celestina had never realized existed. Many of the portraits hanging on the walls looked down at her reprovingly, as if they knew she had done something wrong and was about to be punished severely for it. Then, when Celestina thought her legs were going to collapse beneath her and she could spend the next three weeks in the hospital wing (albeit beside that complete buffoon Orion Black), they were in front of a tiny black door, about half of Celestina's height. Rowena looked as if she would like to say something, but she could not bring herself to do it.
"This will be your room for the next fortnight, Celestina," said Godric Gryffindor with the heaviest regret.
"Try not to sound so sorrowful, Godric," Slytherin grinned wickedly. "She thoroughly deserved it, and it is clear that this should be a reprieve for her."
"A meal will appear at each mealtime," Godric said solemnly. "The door will be opened in a fortnight. You may enter."
The door slowly creaked open on its own. A thrill of dread raced down Celestina's spine. She did not deserve this horrible punishment…had she? Inside the room was about three square feet of pure darkness. She could barely make out a chair inside the tiny space, barely big enough for a child of five. How was she supposed to fit in there for two weeks?
"In you go," Salazar said with his best attempt at gravity. It failed to work. Celestina shot him a dirty glare and wedged herself inside, backside first. She sat down, only to find out that her knees were sticking out of the doorway.
"Two weeks," Rowena whispered sorrowfully.
And the door was closed,
plunging
her
into
a
pit
of
pure
darkness!
The first few hours inside the Blackness, as Celestina dubbed it, was pure shock. How could anyone expect a living person to spend two weeks inside this dark, dingy void? She shifted uncomfortably every two minutes, wishing that there was some way to make this horrible little torture chamber more hospitable.
Then, after about four hours (or was it days? Celestina couldn't really be sure), she realized that she could. What am I? she thought self-reprovingly. She thrust her hand into her robes and dug around for a bit in the darkness before finally pulling out her wand.
"Lumos," she whispered. Her wand tip lit up, and so did her face. This was the first thing that had gone right all day. She took a minute to marvel at her own stupidity and her own genius, and to imagine the look on Salazar Slytherin's face if he knew that she was going to fix this place up into an actual living space. She knew she could get into even more trouble, but right now that sounded like a much better alternative to spending two weeks in this cramped little space.
"Enlargo," she said, waving her wand above her head. And the room expanded like bread rising. The ceiling and floor grew out, and walls spread apart and stretched taller, and soon she was in a room the size of the Ravenclaw dormitory. This was how she wanted to spend her punishment, if it could be called a punishment at all, now.
"How should I fix this?" Celestina wondered aloud. "I must have candles. Conjuro candles!" Instantly, about twelve candles appeared and hovered at an arm's length in front of her face. She flicked her wand and they all attached themselves to the walls and ceiling. "There." Celestina got to her feet and stretched her legs. They were beginning to cramp up from all the sitting in silent darkness.
There was a small pop from the direction of the exact center of the room (everything had expanded from there) and a platter of food appeared, floating in midair. Celestina picked it up and ate quietly, wishing that someone was eating with her. It might have been bright and comfortable now, but she was still lonely. As an afterthought, she conjured up a rug so she could sit on the floor in luxury.
After the food was done, she sat on the floor for a while, thinking about her predicament. She wondered if the door was locked. After a few more moments of contemplation, she scooted herself up to the door. Gingerly, she turned the brass knob. It did not budge. Celestina sighed despairingly. "They saved me my wand; I suppose they could not be bothered to leave such a large thing as that overlooked. Ah, well. This must do."
She dozed off for a few minutes, and then started awake. She had fallen asleep on top of the little silver music box she had stolen—rather, borrowed —from Godric Gryffindor's office. She removed it from her robes and scrutinized it carefully, fingering each and every little ornate embellishment on its surface. It was a very pretty toy, really. It was like a child, Celestina thought, very cute and loving, not having yet reached its full potential. But just what was its full potential?
Then, as suddenly as if she had been given an order, Celestina took out her wand and began tapping away at the little box. She tinkered with it, toyed with it, unscrewed the wind-up handle on the posterior side, removed some of the designs and added some of own. It was a few hours before she had gotten it perfect, just the way she wanted it to be. She opened the lid. The same hollow tune of the little child in the dark field flowed through the room, filling it, but somehow it sounded different. It sounded dangerous, like the bat like creature was only a moment away from devouring the little girl. Celestina tapped it once more, shut it, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.
"What is happening?"
"What happened?"
"Get Gryffindor, hurry!"
"Someone open the door!"
Celestina woke to voices floating beneath the crack under her door. Already it had become her door. But now she sat up and pressed an ear against it, straining to listen to the commotion just beyond it. Something was happening…she could feel it.
And all of a sudden, the door on which she was leaning so heavily on pulled back, and Celestina found herself prostrate at Godric Gryffindor's feet. "Celestina!" he cried commandingly. "What are you doing?"
"Listening, sir," Celestina said, as respectfully as could be expected under the circumstances.
"Stand up," he ordered. Celestina stood, bringing herself up to nearly two-thirds of his height. But when he caught her eye, she could see sadness and fear, as well as remorse. What had happened?
"What is it, sir?" she asked.
"Celestina," he said slowly, "'tis your mother…"
She was all of a sudden aware of the eyes that were watching her fearfully, apprehensively, as if they expected her to turn into a horrible beast. They know, she thought. Aloud she said, "What about my mother?"
"I am not sure what has happened, Celestina, but she is…"
He trailed off. Something in his tone scared her. She breathed heavily, picking faces out of the crowd. There was Elizabeth Dransbel, the blonde Slytherin girl with the pointed face. There was Emil Hensbury, the stout Hufflepuff with the crooked nose and rather large ears. And there was Orion Black, the filthy prefect, with his beloved Annabelle Ploury, the pale-faced, brown-haired teacher's pet. And there was Godric Gryffindor, before her in all his splendor, trying to tell her that her mother was…what? In danger? Out of danger? Ill?
Then it hit her. Godric Gryffindor could not have lost his composure so easily over a little thing as illness. And she realized, as if a candle had been lit in her mind, what he was trying to tell her.
"Where is she?" she asked evenly, almost in a growl.
He did not answer. She searched his face. "Where is she?" she demanded loudly.
He bowed his head.
"No…" Celestina moved away from him, and then broke into the crowd. They gasped, and she could see herself very clearly in her mind's eye, turning into the monster they feared. They all backed away and left a path to the most horrible sight Celestina had ever laid eyes on.
It was her mother, sprawled out on the ground. The glossy handle of a blade caught the light and glinted from her back.
She was…dead.
A gut-wrenching sob freed itself from the poor girl's mouth. "Mother…" The crowd edged back further. Celestina took three steps and fell to her knees beside her mother's mangled body.
She did not deserve to die like this…she did not deserve to die…
She touched a hand to the warm red blood still pounding from the wound. The tears fell onto the floor. Then her hand met the dagger. She winced as it cut into the tip of her finger. Then she touched the handle. On the end of the black marble was the image of a serpent.
A silver serpent.
Of course…now it all made sense…the only one able to do this to her mother was…
"Slytherin," she whispered.
She flew to her feet. The crowd had now all nearly run away in terror. Only a few remained, among them Godric Gryffindor. "Celestina," he said, "please come with me to my office—"
"No!"
He stopped.
"I will not! You hold among your friends a murder, Gryffindor! A murderer! And I will not let him go free!"
He seized her by the shoulders. "Listen to me, Celestina—"
"NO!" she yelled. "If you refuse to let me go free, you are just as cold-hearted as he is!"
She wrenched herself from his grasp and ran in the other direction, toward Slytherin's office. He stood there, the most sorrowful look on his face, until she was out of sight.
Celestina's feet took her to his office on their own. She barely knew how she had ended up there. At any rate, he was not in it, but his things were all thrown into a large trunk, and the door to his classroom was standing ajar. She set down the music box on his desk and made herself invisible with her wand, and then she waited.
Presently, Slytherin reentered his office, carrying vials full of opaque liquids and squishy gelatins, and little insects and amphibians, hopping madly, fighting to get out of the jars. Celestina thought sadly that there were no holes in the jars.
"Stupid Ravenclaw, thinking she could that she could beat me, defeat me…well she hasn't, and I have beaten her down! And that wretched little girl…she will learn her lesson. Oh, yes, she will learn…what is this?"
He had noticed the music box. Celestina had no small satisfaction when he opened the lid and the tune issued. Almost instantly his eyelids began to droop. He sat down in a desk and laid his head down. And then he fell asleep. Celestina emerged from the shadows, chanting softly.
"Thou art sleeping soundly now,
as close to death as can be, art thou.
Raise your head no more to the sky
until I command you to fly."
His snores stopped instantaneously. He was like a statue, not breathing at all, silent as stone. Celestina tapped him on the head with her wand. "Miniscus," she intoned. He grew smaller and smaller until he was the size of the little dancer inside the music box. Celestina picked him up by the nape of his neck and deposited him into the music box and shut it. Then she heard a noise at the door. Thinking quickly, she dove back into her corner.
Orion Black entered, his nose in the air like a dog hunting for prey. Celestina glared darkly. What was he doing here, especially without Annabelle? He was probably looking for her, to stop her from doing anything…rash, as she had just done. But he was too late. She had done this deed, and there was no turning back now.
But then he opened the box.
"No!" Celestina cried.
Orion looked at her strangely as the music began to play. But after a few seconds of his wide-mouthed gaping, his eyelids fluttered closed and he slumped to the floor. Celestina watched him, sprawled out on the cold stone floor, in horror. What would she do now?
Without thinking, she began to chant in a voice quite unlike her own. Why was she saying this, she wondered? Why should she not wake him up and set him free? But there she stood, chanting the spell she had invented herself.
"Thou art sleeping soundly now,
as close to death as can be, art thou.
Raise your head no more to the sky
until I command you to fly."
He became the statue, like Slytherin had. Almost automatically, Celestina said, "Miniscus," and watched him shrink down to the size of her thumb. What am I doing? she wondered in terror as she picked him up and threw him in the box.
There was no undoing it now, unless she wanted Orion to inform the entire school of her escape. So, without a word, she picked up the box, opened a window, and took to the winds with a Dark spell. A stranger on the ground might think she was a shadow across the moon. And she left without a glance to the rear. But she would be back.