Chapter 23: Innocent's torment

Halloween events had everyone agitated and a little scared. Elsa wasn't sure what the fuss was about. So someone vandalized the school. She imagined it happened a lot in a castle filled with teenagers. What happened to the cat was sad, but she was never particularly fond of it in the first place. The halls were a little less creepy without it sneaking around.

She took her usual seat in Transfiguration and found her brother reading their textbook a few chapters ahead of their current lesson. That was beyond strange. Jack was actually studying?

"I've read the whole thing," she told him. "I don't see any tips in there to improve our transfiguration spells. It hurts how bad we are at this."

Professor McGonagall entered the classroom and the chatter quieted. The lesson started and despite her efforts, Elsa found it hard to focus. She was distracted. Her research was proving more difficult than expected. After reading that article from Luna's magazine, Elsa thought to follow the clue of the family name Gulbadox, hoping they would have a record of what happened to that mirror, but the Hogwarts library did not have any information on them. She wondered if any Gulbadox relatives were still even around.

Maybe it would've been easier to track down the person who wrote that article. There was no author listed, but she hoped Luna could ask her father for contact information.

Sometimes, Elsa doubted herself and wondered if she was wasting her time. There was no guarantee that the mirror would give her the answers she needed, but it was the closest she got so far. She knew exactly what she wanted, what her heart's desire was. If she understood that correctly, the mirror would translate it into a vision. This plan had to work. She had nothing else to go on. All of her research had come up fruitless. There was no spell to find someone who you knew nothing about.

She put her thoughts aside and focused on the spell she was supposed to practice. Transfiguration class was coming to an end but her match still didn't look like a needle. Sometimes, she managed to change its appearance slightly but never enough to turn it all the way. It was embarrassing. Jack wasn't doing any better than she was. In fact, it looked like he gave up trying and was reading the textbook again. The other students had already moved on to the next spell. Elsa didn't know why she struggled. In fact, she did very well in Charms, perfecting spells at the same speed as the other students. What was different about this branch of magic?

"You two," McGonagall stopped by their desk and said to her and Jack, "come by my office after your classes today."

Elsa's heart dropped down to her stomach. Oh, no. She'd been so obsessed with her research, she neglected McGonagall's class. What would be the witch's reaction to their failure? They were both in trouble if they couldn't figure out how to perform this magic.

"Jack, what are we…" she turned to her brother and found his seat empty.

If they were in this together, why did she always feel so alone?

》《

It felt ridiculous to bother with the student routine when Merlin had important work to do. Someone dangerous was on the loose at the school, danger lurked over the heads of these children, and here he was, their protector, pretending to not know how to do magic. But a part of his work was getting Harry to talk, and he needed to be a student for that. So he trudged down the stairs for another Potions class.

"You will be working on Wiggenweld Potion today," Snape said in a low voice. His lips barely moved. "Do I dare hope that all of you did your homework and already know what this potion is used for?"

He turned to the class and scanned everyone's faces. Few kids raised their hands, and he picked one Slytherin girl.

"It is a powerful healing potion."

"Correct. Five points to Slytherin. Wiggenweld Potion can also reverse the effects of the Sleeping Draught. Open your books and get to work."

Snape turned his back to them and walked to his desk. Merlin scowled at him. What in the world was Snape thinking, having them work on Wiggenweld Potion already? It required meticulous attention to detail. At each step, the brewer needed to watch the mixture's color, adjust the cauldron's heat, and be very careful when adding each ingredient. It was too complex for these children. They weren't ready.

Merlin had a feeling that something would go wrong, so he kept an eye on his friends to ensure they were following directions and wouldn't create an accidental explosion. Snape was waiting for someone to mess up, wasn't he? Did he enjoy giving these poor kids anxiety attacks?

Students got their ingredients and started working on the potion. The prep was the easy part, so Merlin had a moment to brainstorm how to get Harry to talk. He was on good terms with Hermione, but he couldn't exactly ask her, 'What do you think I should do to make Harry like me and spill all his secrets to me?' Then, maybe his approach was wrong. The time for slowly befriending Harry was gone. He needed to get into Harry's circle fast. Maybe he had to offer something other than friendship. What did he have that Harry would need or want?

Snape started walking around the classroom, giving tips to the Slytherins and criticizing Gryffindors. How typical. Merlin was halfway done with his potion and waited for it to turn red, so he used the time to check on his friends. Jack's mixture looked stable, though from how quiet he'd been, Merlin guessed he was still stressing over Snape.

"Your potion looks great so far," he said, hoping to balance out the boy's anxiety.

"So does yours," Jack said.

Merlin checked on Colin next and gasped. Colin was about to put ten lionfish spines into his cauldron all at once.

"Oh, gods. Colin, don't put that in!"

Colin looked in his direction just as the spines dropped into the mixture with a hiss. Merlin quickly ran over and put out the fire under the boy's cauldron, but it was too late. The mixture bubbled violently, and he barely managed to push Colin out of the way when it exploded. The gooey substance splattered all over Colin's desk, the floor, and, of course, all over Merlin.

The class erupted in a laugh while the Potions Master looked very satisfied with that result.

"It would seem your skills are limited to essay-writing, Mr. Ealdor. One point from Gryffindor for thinking you could save Creevey from his own incompetence. No amount of help will save this insufferable excuse for a wizard."

Merlin ground his teeth in frustration while the potion goo dripped from his face.

"Go back to Muggles, Mudblood. You'll be safer there," one of the Slytherin kids jeered at Colin, and his friends snickered.

Merlin took notice to remember who said it—a tall skinny kid with short dark hair and small eyes disproportionate to the rest of his head. Merlin was making a list of students who were suspects in the Chamber of Secrets message, and this mini-eyed boy fit the profile.

Snape turned around and sat back behind his desk as if he hadn't just heard a vulgar slur in his classroom. Merlin was outraged. No matter how much Snape disliked Colin, he was still a teacher. He shouldn't allow language like that in his classroom.

Colin looked like someone punched him in the gut. Merlin would figure out something to make the boy feel better, but it would have to wait until later. He had to deal with the situation at hand. He was covered in the sticky goo. It was all over his face, stung his eyes, and dripped from his robes.

He walked up to Snape. "May I be excused so I can clean up, Professor?"

Snape appraised him and a hint of a smile played on his lips.

'Just give me more reason to hate you. I dare you,' Merlin thought.

"It would be prudent if you helped Creevey clean up the mess first," Snape said very slowly, his face expressionless, "since you want to be so helpful."

How could he help clean up when he was covered with the stuff? He was more likely going to spread it everywhere. Ah, but Snape knew that. That was the point.

'Control yourself, Merlin,' he had to remind himself before he said something he would regret. 'Not now.'

He walked back to Colin's table and grabbed one of the rags the boy brought.

He lowered to the ground and grudgingly observed Snape who was enjoying the view. The wizard could clean up this spill with a swish of his wand like he had done whenever Slytherin kids created any messes. This man was truly downright cruel.

Merlin wiped at the spill on the floor, which smeared all over the place, and the goo from his robes dripped onto the floor, adding to it. Colin looked like he was ready to cry.

"It's not coming off," Colin whispered shakily. "Snape will kill me. It's not coming off!"

Merlin gave his rag to Colin. "Better wash them both, I'll keep wiping."

Colin ran to the sink, and Snape was watching Merlin like a hawk. No, a hawk was too nice of an animal, like a mangy hyena. No, worse. Like a greasy-haired, sickly pale rabid mangy hyena that was being ripped apart by vultures. Wouldn't that be a sight.

Merlin smirked, amused by the lengths his imagination could get up to. It was an understatement to say that Snape was getting under his skin. He had been from day one, but today, a line was crossed, but he had to be sneaky if he were to do something about it.

Merlin dropped his eyes to the floor, so no one would see the flash of magic in them, and focused on the table of the Slytherin kid at the end of the classroom. He whispered a simple spell that raised the flames under the kid's cauldron. Predictably, Snape rushed over to help control the fire. While everyone was distracted, Merlin waved his hand over the spilled potion on the floor and the desk to vanish the smeared goo. Only what dripped off his dirty robes remained.

Colin came back and was relieved. "You got almost all of it off. Thank you, Merlin. I thought I was going to spend the whole night here, cleaning this up. And sorry for getting it all over you."

"It's not your fault, Colin."

Merlin went back to the sink to drop the cleaning cloth and wash his face. His eyes were tearing up from the burning and the mixture refused to come out with water and soap. He used magic to get it out of his eyes before he went blind, but he had to leave the rest of himself dirty to keep up appearances.

"Get out of my classroom, Ealdor. You're getting everything filthy," Snape snapped cooly. "Creevey, clean up after your helper."

"Go on, Mudblood," the same small-eyed Slytherin said to Colin in a loud whisper. "Get used to cleaning up filth. That's all you'll ever be good for."

That was enough. Before more insults could leave the vile lips, the boy sitting next to him spilled the entire contents of a jar of Flobberworm mucus on his robes.

"What the…"

"Sorry."

Accidents just seemed to happen with Merlin around.

Colin's frown lifted slightly, but only for a moment before he remembered that he was still in trouble and hurried back to cleaning.

Merlin turned to leave and shot Colin a reassuring look. He was going to find a way to cheer him up later. First things first. One issue bothered Merlin to no end. He was sure that Snape had heard the vulgar slur again but did nothing to stop it. This cemented Merlin's resolve. That wizard needed to feel what it felt like to be picked on.

He whispered the curse he had in mind while proceeding to the door in a leisurely walk. He felt the warmth of the magic course through him and invisibly make its way to its target. He listened closely as Snape walked back to his desk—a shuffle of robes, a soft clack of shoes. He was getting closer. Just when Merlin brought his hand to the door handle, he heard the sound of creaking wood, a crash, and Snape's grunt.

The classroom became deadly quiet as students were in shock at what happened while Merlin walked out, feeling a lot better. He had an inkling that from now on, legs of any chair Snape tried to sit on would have a habit of breaking under his weight.

Merlin closed the door, vanished the goo from his robes, and straightened his Gryffindor scarf. One problem down. Now, he could get on to more pressing work.

》《

Tom?

Hi, Ginny.

Something is wrong.

What's wrong, Ginny?

I am. Something is wrong with me.

Talk to me, what's bothering you?

Everything. The sleepwalking is getting worse. And this time, I think I did something awful while asleep.

Oh, no. What do you think you did?

I dreamt that I woke up with blood on my hands, and that I saw bloody writing on a wall, but when I really woke up, my hands were clean.

Oh, then it was just a dream. Don't worry.

But the bloody writing on the wall is real! Someone really did that. What if I wrote that while asleep?

Ginny, you most likely noticed the wall while sleepwalking and that's why you were dreaming about it.

I guess it's possible. But Tom, that's not all. Mrs. Norris, she's a cat, she was petrified and found hanging by her tail. It's awful. What if I did it?

Do you even know how to petrify a cat?

No.

It's just your imagination, Ginny. You didn't do it.

But Tom, what would explain why my robes were so dirty and had chicken feathers on them? Something happened to me that night.

Your sleepwalking must have taken you outside.

Maybe. I hate this. Why do I sleepwalk so much?

I don't know. I wish I could cure you of it.

If only it was that easy. Maybe I should go to Madam Pomfrey?

Who's that?

She's our Healer.

I don't think it's necessary. It's a phase—it will pass.

But it's getting worse. I should go to her.

Ginny, I didn't want to say it earlier, I didn't want to scare you, but I knew someone that had sleepwalking problems.

Really? What happened?

The school Healer said that he was mad and committed him to a loony asylum.

No! Do you think I'm mad?

Definitely not. The Healer misdiagnosed my friend, and as a result, he spent many weeks locked up with the real loonies. It was terrible. Even after his sleepwalking stopped, it took him a long time to convince them that he wasn't mad. I want to spare you that awful experience.

But maybe Madam Pomfrey wouldn't do that.

Do you want to take that chance, Ginny? Once they think that you're crazy, they won't listen to anything else you might have to say. I don't want that to happen to you. I'm worried about you. Please, promise me you won't go to her.

You're right, I don't want to take that chance.

Exactly. And don't tell anyone, not your friends or brothers. We don't want them to think you're mad either. If they find out about your sleepwalking, they could tell Madam Pomfrey directly, and you'll be in the same situation, maybe even worse.

Thank you for looking out for me.

Of course! You're my best friend, Ginny. Is there anything else you want to talk about?

I guess... I'm just sad.

Why? Did something happen?

No, nothing happened. That's the problem. I missed the entire Halloween feast. I heard that it was fun.

That's a shame.

What bothers me is that no one noticed. No one asked me where I was. No one cares. I'm invisible. It's like I don't exist.

They don't deserve you and you don't need them. I will never treat you like you're invisible. Stick with me, Ginny.

I will, Tom. I will.