PART ONE: IN VITAM
Chapter X: Ten of Pentacles Reversed
Students didn't often visit the south side of the Hogwarts grounds. The most popular outdoor spots were the courtyards, the edge of the Great Lake, and the paths to the Quidditch pitch. The south side of the grounds required one to follow the dirt path down a steep slope until one reached a flat grass area about a hundred yards away from the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
The spot was hidden from view of the school, so I'd thought students would like it for the privacy. However, a mishappen statute of a wizard on a headless horse overlooked the Forbidden Forest. The statute carried a curse. Or so James had told me during one of our morning runs. His explanation came with wild arm gestures and creepy voices, not particularly convincing. Rumor in the school was that professors had tried to restore the horse's head, but the curse shielded the statute from any kind of tampering.
I stared up at the misshapen statute in question. The wizard towered above me, his stone face tipped back towards the overcast sky. His robes permanently billowed in the non-existent wind, revealing an empty scabbard at his side. In his left hand, he held a thin wand. Moss crept from his neck down to the hem of his robes. His horse's body was lean and strong, but the effect was lost when its severed, moss-covered head lay some meters away. The name of the wizard had been lost with time, the words scratched away on the pedestal.
For a moment, I was sorely tempted to cast scourgify on the statue, just to see if James had been lying about the anti-tampering curse. But I felt a bit silly casting the spell with Helena watching.
"Are you certain Snape will be here?" I asked the empty air.
"Yes." Helena's disembodied voice came from somewhere to my right.
She'd found me early in the morning to tell me that Snape planned to go to the south side of the grounds after breakfast. It was Friday, and as I didn't have any classes until after lunch, we figured now was the perfect time to catch Snape alone.
"What did he say to Avery exactly?" I asked.
"He said he wanted to work on 'the spell' this morning," said Helena. "Avery reluctantly offered to join him, but Snape insisted on practicing alone."
"'The spell?'" I repeated softly.
"I would assume the same spell he discussed with Avery and Dovetail here," said Helena.
It felt disconcerting to talk to someone invisible. I eyed the spot to the right of the statue where I thought Helena was. "Did you hear any more of what they said?"
"No, that pesky muffling spell stopped me."
I nodded my head once. Magic was such a pain to deal with.
A chilly wind swept along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. I stared at the pine and juniper trees that stretched out before me. In the gray of the morning, the forest seemed harmless enough. But, of course, I remembered the nest of spiders from the Harry Potter books, and there had been mentions of wolves and bugbears. A shiver ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the cool October morning.
"What do you plan to say to him?" asked Helena. "You know your words alone will not alter his thoughts."
I spotted a long, thin tree branch lying at the base of the pedestal. Rather than answer Helena's question, I picked up the tree branch, weighing it in my hands. It seemed to be the right size and weight for what I wanted. After a moment, I opened my enchanted bookbag and dropped the branch inside. Once the bag was safety shut again, I looked up and noticed a thin, shadowy figure at the top of the slope. I made sure I was properly hidden behind the statute, before I watched the boy in black Hogwarts robes make his way down to the edge of the forest.
"It's Snape," whispered Helena.
As he drew closer, I could make out the large nose and pale face of Severus Snape. He hadn't noticed me yet. His intense gaze was fixed on a patch of grass a few meters to the left of the statue. Lost in his thoughts, he seemed blind to the world around him.
But then, he raised his wand and gave it a lazy flick. I recognized the gesture. Rosier always cast this spell before entering the seventh-floor broom cupboard. I felt the familiar warm, gentle breeze pass by me, and when I looked up, I saw Snape staring at the statue.
"Come out," he sneered. "I know you're there."
I kept my hands clear of my robes, wanting him to see that I wasn't armed for a fight. Then, I stepped out from behind the pedestal.
Snape's eyes sharpened, and he directed his wand at me. "McKinnon."
"Hello, Snape." My head tilted slightly to the right, and I felt my left eyebrow involuntarily quirk up. "I thought I might find you here."
"You did, did you?" sneered Snape.
"I want to talk." I did my best to give him a friendly smile.
Helena drifted about somewhere on the patch of flat grass. She remained an invisible and silent spectator, just as we'd planned. Whatever sensing spell Snape and Rosier used couldn't detect the presence of ghosts.
"And, tell me," said Snape, his voice low and deadly, "why I shouldn't hex you right now for all the humiliation you put me through?"
"I humiliated you?" I kept my tone light and innocent with just a hint of confusion.
Snape gritted his teeth. "You told me that Lily wanted to be friends again. She didn't want to be friends. You saw it! You saw how she treated me!"
"I told you I wanted to help you two be friend again," I said calmly. "I did not tell you to walk up to Lily and expect everything to be magically resolved. She can want to be friends with you again and worry about you but also not want to accept the choices you've made up until this point." I emphasized the last part. Up until this point. Because from this point onwards, he needed to change. I needed him to change.
Snape's face turned slightly red as he glowered at me. "And why would I believe that?"
"Why wouldn't you?" I asked. "I want to help Lily. She's my friend. I want what's best for her. She was happy when you two were friends, and I want her to be happy like that again." I hesitated, as if the next part was difficult for me to say. "I also worry about her…because of certain people."
Snape's eyes narrowed. His shoulders tightened, and I knew he was already preparing to defend his friends.
"I know they've helped you a lot," I said quickly. "I know you feel that they accepted you when no one else would. But…they want to hurt Lily."
Snape's head jerked at that last line. He spoke as if it was reflex: "They won't hurt Lily."
I actually did a doubletake at that. It took all my self-control to keep my expression neutral. Was Snape seriously fool enough to believe that the likes of Proudfoot and Goyle wouldn't hex Lily?
As if he realized what I was thinking, Snape hurriedly corrected himself, "They won't hurt her. Rosier wouldn't let them."
Rosier. My whole body stiffened at the mention of his name. Of course that twally-washer would be involved. I couldn't escape him. And now a new obstacle had appeared between Snape and me. How could I convince Snape that his friends would dare to harm Lily when Rosier had guaranteed her safety? What kind of influence did Rosier have over Slytherin house? Did he have enough control that he could stop Proudfoot and Goyle from attacking Lily in the corridors?
During my first interactions with Rosier, he'd reminded me a little of Snape. Someone who was friends with that group but who also dwelled on the edge of it. Now I had to revise my judgment. It seemed Rosier was much more involved than I'd thought.
A sharp, icy feeling passed through my left shoulder. I glanced down, but there was no ghostly hand to see. This was Helena's way of reminding me to focus.
"And you trust Rosier?" I asked.
"You don't like Rosier," said Snape coldly, not bothering to answer my question.
"We're Divination partners. We like each other well enough. As I always say to him, just because our friends don't get along, it doesn't mean we can't." I gave Snape a meaningful look.
"You and I will never be friends."
"I didn't say we were going to be." I kept my voice calm and even. "I want you and Lily to be friends. And I want your fellow Slytherins to stay far away from her. I didn't like the way Proudfoot and Avery were watching her before Potions Club on Sunday. Even if you don't want my help rekindling your friendship with Lily, at least keep her safe from them."
There was the slightest change in Snape's dark eyes, and I knew my words had hit their mark.
With that, I had nothing more to say. I turned around, walked past the broken statute of the wizard-knight, and started my way up the winding dirt path. I didn't have to look over my shoulder to know that Snape's gaze followed me. I kept my strides even and purposeful, trying to exude an air of confidence.
"Do you think he will listen?" whispered Helena's disembodied voice when we neared the top of the slope.
"Not yet," I said softly. "But our move has only just begun."
Silence followed my words, so long and stretched that I thought Helena had left me. But at last, in an almost sad voice, she asked, "Do you truly think this will save Marlene's family?"
I bit the insides of my cheeks. When I'd told Helena the plan, I had expected her to accept it with her usual cold, calculatedness. However, she had seemed less-than-thrilled, almost reluctant, to go along with me this time. Even now, she had doubts.
"It is a step," I said. "Every step, no matter how small or dangerous it may seem now, will bring us that much closer to saving Marlene's family."
"I see." Helena said nothing more on the subject.
"Catch."
The door of the broom closet had barely closed behind me when Rosier tossed something at my face. On instinct (Marlene's Chaser reflexes took over), I caught the red, ball-like object. It squished between my fingers, feeling rough and wet, like a large tongue. A foul smell washed over me. The stench was something like a mixture between sewage and sour milk. I gagged as I threw whatever the hell the red ball was back at Rosier.
He caught it easily in what looked to be a green, velvet cloth. His nose wrinkled ever so slightly as he wrapped it up again. The red, leathery hide spotted with pale warts disappeared beneath the expensive fabric. As soon as the red ball was completely covered, the smell vanished.
"What was that?" I asked, glaring at the lump in Rosier's hands.
"Foeteprimi." Rosier's gaze raked over my face before he opened his bookbag and put the velvet cloth away. "It's a flower bud. The smell of it causes Metamorphmagi to revert to their original appearances."
I scrunched up my nose. "That's a flower?"
"A flower bud," corrected Rosier. "It only blooms once a year. Its pollen undoes any concealing spells. They're very expensive."
"How'd you get one?"
"My uncle is a Herbologist for St. Mungo's."
And is he a Death Eater too? The question remained on the tip of my tongue, though I didn't dare voice it aloud. Instead, I eyed his bookbag warily. "You're not going to make me watch the flower bloom just to make sure I'm not using a concealing spell, are you?"
A wry smile appeared on Rosier's face. However, he didn't answer as he flicked his wand and conjured an elegant wooden chair from nothing. He then looked at me, right eyebrow raised slightly higher than the left. "Your turn. Though, I would be happy to conjure a chair for you as well, if you'd like."
"You're so generous. Sellaparte."
A polished chair made of black walnut materialized on the stone floor. It was hard to feel triumphant over my successful spellwork when Rosier wore such an annoying smile.
"So, you've established that I'm not a Metamorphmagus," I said. "What's your next theory?"
"That would ruin the surprise," said Rosier, as we settled into our seats. "You're a quick learner, by the way. The first few weeks of conjuring lessons were a nightmare for me."
"I just had to refresh my memory," I said, as though I hadn't poured through the textbooks in the Room of Requirement, trying to find the spell for conjuring chairs."
We fell into our usual routine after that. Today's topic was Hogwarts gossip. I asked about people in our year. Who were the prefects? Who was the best in each subject? What friend groups existed? The Marauders were obviously famous. Then, there was the tight-knit Slytherins and a group of popular Ravenclaw girls. Were there any feuds among these groups? The most renowned was between the Marauders and Rosier's future Death Eater gang. Edythe Dovetail also had a notorious dislike for Lily and me. What about dating? Who was snogging who in the broom cupboards? Rosier's knowledge on Gryffindor and Hufflepuff dating was limited, but even he knew that Remus and Mary had snogged once in fourth year at a Quidditch party and that Dorcas was part of the Forever Single's Club with Marlene.
Finally, I asked, "What do people say about Snape and Lily?"
I kept my tone casual, but Rosier still frowned when he heard it.
It wasn't an unreasonable question. Lily was Marlene's friend. Knowing the gossip about her would help me pass off as the real Marlene. But judging by his expression, Rosier disliked discussing Snape with me. My mind flashed back to that morning, when Snape stood on the south side of Hogwarts grounds, confidently declaring that Rosier would make sure the other Slytherins didn't hurt Lily.
There was something hidden. Some secret between Rosier and Snape that Rosier did not want me to pry into. But it seemed, however, that Snape was less desperate to guard that secret than Rosier was.
"Everyone knows Severus and Evans used to be friends," said Rosier. His voice was calm, showing no sign that he'd hesitated for even a moment. "And that there was an emotional fallout between them at the end of fifth year. They were an odd pairing to begin with, so no one was surprised when Evans ended it. There were some rumors in our third and fourth years that Severus fancied Evans."
"Has Snape ever dated anyone?" I asked.
"No."
"Do you believe those rumors about Snape fancying Lily?" I knew the true answer, of course, but I was curious to hear what Rosier had to say.
Rosier shot me a knowing smile. "I do. In fact, I believe he still fancies Evans."
My head jerked ever so slightly.
"Surprised?" That one word dripped with sarcasm.
"That he still fancies her? No. I suspected he did. I'm surprised you'd admit it to me though." After all, Rosier had no problem throwing his other friends under the river in front of me. I'd expected Snape to be an exception.
Rosier leaned back in his chair and said, "It won't work out for Severus though. Evans started fancying Potter at the end of last year. Potter dated Joanna Stebbins for a couple months in the spring, and rumor has it, Evans spent all of March sulking. I don't know what caused Potter and Stebbins to end things. That rumor never reached the Slytherin common room."
He had changed the subject. I didn't dare mention Snape again. Focusing too much on Snape would only raise Rosier's suspicions. The longer I could stop Rosier from learning that I was targeting Snape, the better. So, instead, I asked, "Has Lily dated anyone?"
"Caradoc Dearborn. He's a Ravenclaw Chaser in our year. I don't know all the details. I heard he asked her to Hogsmeade in October last year, and they dated for a few months. They still speak regularly in classes, so it seems there were no hard feelings."
I nodded my head. His words made sense. Bit by bit, the story of how James Potter and Lily Evans fell in love formed before me. And this was the year where all the pieces finally fit together.
"You haven't dated anyone." Rosier watched me carefully as he spoke. "I don't think you've even snogged anyone. You've been too busy pining over Sirius Black these last few years."
My mouth twitched into a grimace. Memories flashed through my mind. Awkward, light kisses behind the school gym before either of us knew how to use our tongues. Lying across the back seat of a silver Audi as hands found their way beneath my uniform. My throat sore from screaming as kisses and apologies rained down on my forehead, cheeks, and nose. You haven't dated anyone. If only that was true. Marlene and I were two different people. No matter how much I tried to be her, some things could not be forgotten.
Rosier's gaze never left my face, and I knew he was reading into my reaction far more than I wanted him to.
When our eyes met, Rosier smiled and asked, "Or am I wrong, Marlene?"
I gritted my teeth, hating that he could see so much. Before I could stop myself, I asked, "And what about you, Rosier?"
He didn't flinch like I wanted him to. In his usual, polished accent, he said, "You don't remember? I dated Edythe for most of fifth and six years. We broke up in February last year."
I bit down hard on my tongue to stop my jaw from dropping. The image of Edythe's sweet, angelic face appeared before my eyes. She was small and delicate, but whenever her eyes landed on Lily or me, her lips pulled back into a sneer and she looked as though she'd noticed a cockroach scuttling through the corridor. I was so accustomed to seeing her shadowed by the burly John Avery, that I'd never imagined she could've dated anyone else.
"You two don't match," I said rather bluntly.
Rosier laughed. It was loud and actually sounded genuine, though I never trusted anything he said or did to be genuine.
"Our families are old friends." Rosier's faint smile stood in contrast to his dark eyes that surveyed me carefully. "It was expected of us. When we were children, our mums talked about our marriage. When Edythe asked me to the Slug Club Yuletide dinner in fifth year, there was no reason to refuse."
I didn't understand why he was telling me all this. I wasn't fool enough to believe he'd been lulled into a false sense of security. But perhaps he had started another game without me realizing. Open up a little, with things that weren't important, and maybe I'd think we were becoming friends. Then, I would start sharing personal information that was important.
It took all my willpower not to snort in disgust. Fat chance of that working out for him.
"So, why'd you end it with Dovetail?" I asked, trying to fill my voice with genuine interest. If he wanted to share some of his personal life with me, then I certainly wasn't going to stop him.
"She ended it with me." Rosier sounded lazy, almost bored. "It was after the raid on Hogsmeade. She didn't like that I'd stopped her from signaling the Death Eaters. She said I'd changed too much since my mum passed away."
Simultaneously, I tried to piece together every scrap of information, determine if he was telling me the truth, and figure out why on earth was he revealing all this to me. Rosier must have known what he was doing to me, how crazy his words drove me, making my mind go around in circles. His mouth quirked up into a half-smile as he watched my facial expressions shift.
At last, I asked, "How did your ma pass away?"
"It was a type of heart failure." Rosier said it simply and without any emotion. His tone certainly didn't match Dovetail's claim that his ma's death had impacted him deeply. "She died early in my sixth year. It even made the Daily Prophet. It was very shocking. No one even knew she was had a heart condition."
"Sorry." The flatness in my voice matched his. I tried to picture my own ma. All I could remember were her cold eyes, reminding me exactly how much I was worth in that house. I found I couldn't drag up the emotion I was supposed to feel when thinking of a mother.
"It happens," said Rosier.
We stared across the small, cramped broom closet at one another, and I found myself reflected in his eyes. Likely, it was another one of his tricks, but for a brief moment, I found myself falling for it. Perhaps this boy who sat opposite me understood some of my feelings about family. The thought faded as quickly as it came.
My hand flew up to my neck, and I traced the soft skin with my fingertips. I found it all too easy to get caught up in Rosier's lies. My gaze drifted down to the floor as I asked, "Is there any other gossip I should know? I know about Angelice Codde and Edward Park. Sophia Pritchard and Ludovic Bagman—"
"That'll never last," added Rosier.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes as I remembered Bagman from the Harry potter books. Pritchard was better off without him. However, I only said, "And Dovetail's dating Avery now, I know that."
"He asked her out at the end of last year," said Rosier with a one-shouldered shrug. "He matches her interests much more than I did."
I snorted. "So, she wants a guy who will follow her around?" I couldn't imagine a description that less suited Rosier.
Rosier grinned. "Exactly."
"I'm surprised you two lasted as long as you did."
"Cornelian Bulstrode and Georgina Crabbe are together again," added Rosier as an afterthought. "They've gone through the same pattern since fifth year. They're famous for the dramatic shouting match they had in the Great Hall after our OWLs."
"What was the fight about?"
"No one remembers." Rosier leaned back in his chair. "And then you have the endless list of Sirius Black's girlfriends. It used to break your heart to even think about them." He gave me a twisted smile. "Angelica Codde in fourth year. Victoria Mayhew in fifth year—she's a year older so you won't meet her—and then Sophia Pritchard before she dated Bagman. Then in sixth year, Black briefly dated Lucille Johnson, from Divination class, but theory is he was only snogging her because Potter was dating her best mate."
My upper lip pulled back into a slight sneer at each name Rosier listed off.
When he'd finished, his eyes scanned my face and he openly smirked. "I take it your feelings for Black have vanished in the last few weeks."
I said nothing.
She came on to me. The slightly hoarse voice echoed in my memory. I didn't mean to. You know how it goes…one drink too many…
How many times had I heard those excuses? How many times had I believed him? How many times had I not found out about? The image of Sirius Black's in equal parts charming and arrogant smile flashed through my mind and then overlapped with someone else's wicked grin.
No, it was better to forget about Logan.
"I didn't expect you to be this much of a gossip," I said.
"It's important to stay informed. It's helped you, hasn't it?"
I couldn't exactly argue with that. I leaned back in my chair and asked, "So, you have any good gossip on the professors for me?"
A glint entered Rosier's eyes. "Certainly."
Our secret meeting continued into the evening. I had completely forgotten the time until Rosier's stomach grumbled in the middle of our conversation about Hagrid's rumored illegal pets. Before Rosier could even finish his sentence, I had abandoned him in the broom cupboard and started making way to the Hufflepuff Basement.
Fifteen minutes later, I found myself alone in the seventh-year girls' dorm. I sat cross-legged on my four-poster bed, facing the tree branch I'd picked up from the grounds that morning. Underneath the branch, I had placed a gaudy, brass star decoration that I'd taken off one of Marlene's necklaces and a pillowcase I'd taken from one of my pillows.
I took a deep breath. Could I really do this? I'd spent the past few nights reading spell after spell, clinging to anything that could possibly help me. The diadem helped me learn theory, but it didn't guarantee success in practice. What could go wrong? Setting my bed on fire, losing important body parts, banishing myself to some unknown dimension… the list was never ending when it came to magic.
Well, there was little use in dwelling on the possibilities. Best to finish before my dormmates returned from the Great Hall.
"Ligarcha." I moved my wand into a smooth curve before tapping the stick lightly.
The change was instant. The branch started to shorten, shrinking until it was about the length of my hand. Then it fattened, widening from only a couple centimeters to seven and then eight. A hole appeared in the middle, dipping down to form a sort of bowl-shape. Part of the branch curved over to create a cover. At last, the rough bark smoothed over into a carefully polished, black wood. In the end, what remained was a small, square box with brass hinges. There was a little key protruding from the lock. With a slightly tremor running though my hand, I opened the box to reveal a little white cushion inside.
Wow. It'd actually worked.
Who would have thought?
Once I was certain the box was complete, without any holes in the wood or missing pieces, I scooped my bookbag off the floor. Of the two pillows on my bed, only one had a cover now. I removed the last white pillowcase and then wrapped the cotton fabric around my hand. Now protected, I reached into the bookbag.
My fingers bumped into textbooks, quills, and an ink bottle before I touched the sharp edges of the Veil shard. Pain scorched my skin where I held the shard, even through the pillowcase. I gritted my teeth, spared one last glance around the empty dorm room, and then pulled the shard out of the bookbag.
Immediately, I dropped the shard onto my duvet. The silvery, glass-like surface reflected the golden light of the room. I didn't understand why the shard burned me to touch. I couldn't remember the Harry Potter books ever describing the Veil as hot or fiery. In my memories, the Veil resembled something somber, dark, and mysterious.
However, now that it no longer burned me, the shard looked small and fragile. To think that such a small, seemingly benign thing had brought me to this world.
I tilted my head from side to side, trying to see if I could peer into this other world of shadow and light that Helena had described. The Veil shard, however, revealed nothing but a thin, silvery surface.
How had Marlene managed to break off a piece of the Veil? Did the Veil even function when it was incomplete? How had Marlene managed to watch her doppelgangers through this shard? Did it not burn her to touch? What spell had she used to switch places with me? Was there a book somewhere in the Hogwarts' library that held the secrets beyond the Veil?
The questions were endless. However, now was not the time to ask them. There was still more to do before my dormmates returned from the Great Hall.
Using only the tips of my fingers, I placed the Veil shard inside the box. I firmly shut the lid, turned the lock, and then removed the little brass key. I hung the key from the now-empty necklace chain that had once held the gaudy, brass star. This was the extent of my arts and crafts skills.
Once the key was safely hung around my neck, I turned to the next issue: the box.
I picked up my black walnut wand and took a deep breath. Swish, curve, and jab.
"Collovis."
The lock seemed to emit a white glow for an instant before settling back to its usual bronze color.
Had the spell worked?
Slowly, I extended a hand. As my fingertips drew closer to the lid, I felt a faint buzzing in the air. One spell down.
"Sigillius."
I'd read about sealing charms in The Book of Charms and Spells. Some spells lay on top of each other with ease, like blankets meant to be stacked, while other spells had to be tinkered with, the cogs adjusted until they slid into place. The more spells one tried to knit together, the more difficult it became and the more tinkering that was needed.
Laying sigillius on top of collovis turned out to be a fairly easy task, likely because both were sealing spells. Collovis magically bound box keyholes, while sigillius made the keyhole impervious to unlocking spells.
The next charm, nolierdere, was a little trickier. It was an anti-destruction spell, so that spells like annihilare would not work on the lock. While the spell didn't lay down as easily as sigillius had, I only needed to alter the incantation slightly and jerk my wand a little to the left to get the charm to settle into place.
Cavefacium, the Warding Spell, was ten times more difficult to fit into the puzzle. I failed the first time. My right arm shook as I clutched my wand, trying to maintain the magic. Then, suddenly, my arm jerked backwards with the force of the failed spell.
The Harry Potter books and movies didn't make spellcasting seem this difficult. The characters had simply raised their wands, said the incantations, and magic had happened.
So why was I here sweating as I attempted to cast one spell on top of the other?
The image of Rosier flashed through my mind. Every time we met up, he would cast warding spell after warding spell on the broom cupboard. He usually layered about nine spells on that room, if my counting was correct. And now I was having trouble with just four. He even claimed that these types of spells weren't his specialty. My own failings as a witch had never been put so clearly in perspective before.
Raising my wand yet again, I said in a strong and clear voice, "Cavefacium."
It took me little short of half an hour to finishing laying all six spells that I'd memorized onto the little box containing the piece of the Veil. I'd gotten cavefacium on the second attempt, but the Anti-Counterspell Charm and the Obscuring Charm had taken me three or four tries each. By the time I was done, my eyes fluttered with exhaustion. I didn't understand how Rosier—or any witch or wizard for that matter—managed to stay awake after casting so many spells. Hopefully it was one of those practice-makes-perfect things.
My legs trembled slightly as I slid off the bed and made my way over to Marlene's wardrobe. I heard the sound of a door opening behind me and then Dorcas's voice calling out, "Marlene, you here?"
I shoved the box into the hood of Marlene's Quidditch robes before shutting the wardrobe doors behind me. Dorcas and Jenn had just entered the room. I offered them my best smile. "I'm here!"
"You missed dinner," said Jenn as she settled on the edge of her bed. "They had Hotch-Potch tonight."
"I wasn't very hungry. I had a big lunch."
Dorcas frowned. "You shouldn't skip meals."
"I'm making sure to eat regularly," I said quickly. "I'd be hypocritical of me to scold Peter for not eating and then start starving myself."
My words didn't seem to comfort Dorcas in the slightest, but she didn't push the topic any further.
"Dory's a worrywart," said Jenn cheerfully. "We're going to have some herbal tea before calling it a night. Care to join us?"
In all honesty, I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and sleep for a full twelve hours. My right arm still trembled with exhaustion from casting spell after spell. However, I'd vowed to spend more time with Marlene's friends, so I nodded my head and allowed Jenn to heat me some peppermint tea.
The three of us ended up chatting for hours that night. Somehow, the conversation drifted over to Jenn's stories about animals. She recounted charming tales of Grindylows swimming in the lake and crossbills playing on the edge of the forest. She almost convinced me that a Grindylow would make a good pet.
Greta joined us partway through the night, bringing with her the gossip that Edward Park and Angelice Codde had gotten into an argument outside the Hufflepuff Basement with Codde calling her boyfriend a "stubborn donkey" before she stormed off. As conversation pivoted to the Hogwarts dating scene, I silently thanked Rosier and managed to through in a sagely comment: "Bagman and Prichard are never going to last."
The evening turned out to be surprisingly warm and comfortable, full of laughter. Somewhere around midnight, I drifted to sleep with thoughts of the Veil far behind me.
My hands curled into fists, but instead of bedsheets, they grasped strands of soaked grass. My heart raced as I felt the grass transform into shards of glass that cut and burned my skin. Rain poured in buckets, flooding my mouth and ears, until it felt like I was drowning. I couldn't breathe. Water was everywhere. Something was pressing down on my throat. I thrashed about, trying to escape. Green light filled my eyes.
I woke up, gasping and panting and sweating through my pajamas. The yellow curtains were drawn around the four-poster bed, but between the gaps I could see my dormmates fast asleep.
A dream. It had been just a dream.