AN: It's Sunday - and it has been a long week for me. My only day off was today *whistles*. But in the interest of keeping the theme of 'long-ness' going, this chapter is a big one. 6000+ words! Hope you enjoy.
PS, if you could read the endnote, that would be much appreciated.
Chapter 26: Something in the way you move
25th May 1994
Three months had passed too quickly to keep track of, and now the Weasley twins were back.
They must have arrived after dinner, because Daphne hadn't seen them the night before. But now, they were sitting proudly in their usual spots surrounded by their usual friends. That half-blood with the dreadlocks, Lee Jordan, was chucking grapes at one of the twins who had his mouth gaping open. Their youngest brother was sitting by their side with a small smile on his face, and the table had a general good cheer to it.
Everything had gone back to how it had been before they had gone. Honestly, it almost seemed like everything had gone back to before the Weasley girl had died. But Daphne wasn't going to let thoughts like that deter her from keeping an eye out on them. They were dangerous. They'd proved that.
But what was worse about the whole thing was that the twins had placed themselves in the perfect position to see her, Pansy and Halley enter the Great Hall. And Daphne knew this because when the door opened, their eyes had found the three of them almost immediately, and a cruel smile had attached itself to their faces.
Halley noticed and she stood looking back at them with a firm stare of her own. But Pansy gently pushed her forwards, breaking eye contact and whispering just loud enough for Daphne to hear as well. "Don't give them anything," she said. "Just walk to the table, sit down, and eat."
Halley followed the instructions, but when she went to choose a side for the bench, she sat on the side that faced the wall. Daphne hesitated for a moment. Halley never chose that side; without fail, any meal she actually attended, Halley would sit on the side that faced the rest of the Hall. It was almost compulsive, and it spoke to behaviours that Daphne was sure suggested something went on in that Muggle house over the summers.
Because Halley Potter sat with a vantage point. She sat, with her back to the wall, so that she could see everyone who would approach her. But today she'd not done that. Today, she was robotically reaching for the silverware and the butter, she was placing her toast on her plate with strained movements, and she was forcing herself to bite into it.
Loud, rambunctious laughter came from the Gryffindor table - from the twins - and Halley's jaw clenched. She looked tense.
Pansy caught Daphne's attention and the girl's mouth twisted into an annoyed pucker. It was a rehash of those late nights wondering what the hell Halley was getting up to when she disappeared for hours on end. Once again, Daphne had to agree that Halley Potter was a loose cannon, but it would be worth it in the end. It had to be. She would make it worth it.
A body moved behind her, breaking her out of her thoughts. Rowle sat down closer to the Third Years side than he had ever done before. His body jostled the cutlery and plates as he sat on the bench, and he too began getting his breakfast in an oddly stilted way.
His large, ink-stained hands, took his own piece of toast from near Daphne and he began the process of buttering it. He looked almost normal, but something about it was off. The usual lethargic way Rowle moved was gone, and in its place were muscles that seemed just a little too tense.
Thorfinn Rowle was irritated. And he was calculating something.
"What's wrong with him?" Pansy asked. She must have seen how off he was acting as well.
Her voice pulled Halley out of whatever thoughts seemed to constantly run around in her head, because she looked up and over. Her gaze immediately found Rowle's and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"What's ever right with him?" Halley responded.
Daphne wished she had a better vantage point of her own to watch the two of them without it being obvious, but she couldn't. All she could do was watch Halley as the other girl kept glancing up at Rowle. From the corner of her eye, Daphne was sure that she could see Rowle return the looks, but why would he? As far as she knew, he'd not done anything to help them out since she'd talked to him all those months ago, but Daphne had also known that avenue wasn't a guaranteed one. And Halley wasn't the most open human being on the planet.
But she also wasn't the slyest Slytherin in the cave either. Daphne had learnt that she got the most out of Halley when she asked her direct questions - another thing they would need to change if she was going to get anywhere.
"Is there something going on with you and Rowle?" Daphne asked.
Halley's cheeks flushed a warm pink and Daphne had her answer. Though she doubted that there was anything actually going on between them - Rowle had an understanding with Rosier after all - there was something happening. She hoped he was training Halley like she'd asked.
"No! He's helping me with a spell."
"Which spell?"
"The Patronus."
Daphne hummed. She didn't know much about the Patronus charm other than the fact that it warded off Dementors. But if that's what he was helping Halley with then maybe it was for the best. She seemed to be affected by them more than others.
Looking back at the incident on the Express, it had almost seemed like the Dementors had made a beeline for Halley. They'd practically ignored everyone else in the carriage, though they'd all felt the effects of it anyhow. The Dementor had reached out its dead, withering hand and had gone straight for her.
Halley hadn't even lasted a second - not that Daphne could blame her.
But something about it had seemed odd. Targeted, maybe? It was possible; there were enough people angry with Halley still for killing the Dark Lord. If someone high enough in the Ministry put their mind to it, it would have been a good plan. Rogue Dementors attacking the Girl Who Lived.
Daphne sighed. Why was everything so complicated with her? If she'd known it was going to be this hard to keep the girl in...alright enough standing to enter society then...well, no. She would have still done it. Astoria wouldn't bear the brunt of the Life Debt. Not if Daphne had anything to say about it.
And then, just like that, breakfast was over and it was time to get to their lessons. "Come on Halley. We wouldn't want to be late for Potions," Daphne said.
"She certainly doesn't," Pansy added.
Daphne let out a light laugh and started ushering the two out of the hall. Along the way, she caught a glimpse of her sister laughing with her own friends and Daphne smiled. Things would be worth it. After all, it wasn't like she had that much time left, was it?
"I don't think I've ever met anyone so unable to meditate," Rowle said after she'd spent the last ten minutes trying to sit in front of the fire without moving or without thinking. But it wasn't easy.
The very fact that she had to close her eyes and concentrate on nothing when he was in the room, walking around or writing an essay, disturbed her. Closing her eyes cut off one of the key senses. It cut her off from safety. And Rowle didn't care.
She knew, though, that she would have to get over the itchiness of fear. At least till she'd mastered that stage. But even as the sessions continued, and she got more used to him being in her space when her eyes were closed, it was difficult. The fire would get too hot. It would remind her of the blisters and pain. Her body was tired and unable to hold herself up. She could feel sweat forming on her upper lip or running down her spine from focusing on not moving. And it seemed like the moment she let herself, every thought she'd ever had would come rushing to the forefront of her mind.
"I don't like meditation," she said.
"Clearly," he said from above her. He'd taken to using one of the armchairs to do his work in, like he was keeping an eye on her. Rowle sighed and was quiet for a moment before he seemed to perk up again. "Alright. We're going to try something else."
Immediately she was wary. Halley turned to face him, but Rowle shook his head. "Lie down," he said.
"What?"
"You're ridiculously fidgety. Lie down on the carpet. Still and in a neutral position on your back."
Halley looked at him, wondering if he was messing around with her, but Rowle kept his stupidly intense grey eyes locked on her. It was clear he wasn't messing around with her, and he did actually want her to lie down on the floor.
Slowly, Halley unfolded her legs from the uncomfortable crossed position they'd been in. She felt the blood rush back to her feet and they began tingling. The slight discomfort from the pins and needles went away as she placed her hands beside herself and gently let herself lie backwards until her head met the surprisingly soft fabric of the carpet.
"What now?" she asked.
Rowle stood up. She could hear his heavy dragonskin boots walk around her until he was standing above her, looking down with his head bent at an awkward angle. Halley had a sudden flashback to being in the Chamber and Riddle looking at the Weasley girl just like Rowle was before he called the Basilisk. The feeling choked in her throat.
She bolted up.
Rowle tutted. "Lie back down, Potter," he said, frowning.
"Tell me what you're doing first," she said.
It said something that Rowle didn't even argue with her. They'd had this fight too many times by now that she suspected her perceived stubbornness was just amusing to him. Instead, he rolled his eyes like he did every time she challenged him, and crouched down so he was more at her level.
With a hand resting on his knee and his glasses nestled on his head within one of his braids, Rowle looked so at ease. So calm. He blinked slowly - disarmingly. Halley was suddenly forced into the realisation that Rowle was attractive. She'd know that, obviously, but the thought hadn't truly settled in her mind until he was there in front of her. It was disconcerting. And he was very close to her.
"There are three main techniques to perform Occlumency, and you're overwhelmingly bad at two of them. So we're trying the least effective," he said. He smiled, and she knew he was enjoying mocking her. And just like that, the disconcertion was gone and Halley went back to feeling normal.
"Why didn't you just start with that one then?"
He raised a brow. "Did you not just hear me? It's typically the least effective. Besides, I have a theory about you."
"Of course you do," she said bitterly.
His smirk said it all. "Meditation doesn't work for you because you can't be in the moment. You're too busy trying to ignore whatever pops into your head. So instead, you're going to work on distracting yourself."
"How is that supposed to work?" she asked.
"Because, Potter," he said with a tone that sounded very much like he thought she was being purposefully thick, "when you're distracting yourself, you're actively focusing on one thing. And if you're only focusing on one thing, it'll block out all the other thoughts which is the essence of Occlumency."
In a roundabout way it made sense, she supposed. But it also brought up some troubling questions. Like what if the thing she focused on led to another thought that let the Legillimens see something she didn't want them to know?
"Fine, but what about if something else slips through?" she asked.
Rowle tilted his head. His eyes widened a little in surprise, and Halley felt good that she'd caught him off guard. "That's why it's the least effective. People let their thoughts go. But I think that you may be able to work around it. So I need you to lie down, alright?"
There was no reason for her not to now. It didn't sound like anything unusual was going to happen, except that she would be lying down while this exercise took place. So she followed his instructions and laid herself back down on the carpet. This time, when she closed her eyes, she couldn't hear Rowle walking around.
Seconds went by before he spoke again. When he did, his voice was soft and gentle. Almost lulling. "Good. Now, I want you to focus on something - anything. The roaring of the fire, your heartbeat, the feel of the carpet under your hands. When you have that thing, let it distract you. Let your mind fill with it."
For a moment she panicked, and all the thoughts she'd been trying to dull out came rushing back in a wave. Halley felt like she did every time she'd tried to meditate and frustration pooled in her mind. But slowly, she concentrated on the room. Her eyes were closed, but behind them was a pale red that flickered as her pupils moved, searching for something. Her body felt heavy and supported by the firmness of the wooden floorboards and the softness of the carpet.
At her head, she could feel the heat from the flames. She could hear the way the logs crackled under the strain of the fire breaking them down. And she could hear herself breathe.
The motion of in-out-in-out reminded her of the one thing that seemed to work when she was about to lose herself to panic. And so, Halley began to count her breaths. One, breathe in. Two, breathe out. Three, breathe in. Four, breathe out. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.
She counted, and she focused on her breathing. And she could feel her heartbeat slow in time with it. It wasn't meditative, but it was enough. There wasn't room in her brain for other thoughts to enter; everything was filled with her counting. There were thoughts there in the background - ones that would be all too willing to come forward if she stopped, but she didn't need to stop. There was enough air in the room to allow her to count until she fell asleep.
"Potter?" Rowle's voice cut through the number and Halley's eyes flickered open. "You awake?"
Halley sat up, her eyes still adjusting to the way the room looked brighter now that there was nothing blocking the light out. She felt a little dizzy - for a second the room spun until she centred herself by planing a hand on the floor - but it passed quickly. There was something else that was different too. She wasn't being bombarded with her thoughts.
It felt a little like that horrible calm that Riddle had placed on her with his Imperius curse, but this didn't feel as fake as that had. This felt...more.
"It worked," she said, and she smiled. Her voice was light, and something akin to laughter felt like it was trapped at the back of her throat.
Rowle chuckled. He was still in the spot he'd been in, but now he was sitting leaning against the armchair, his legs crossed at the calves, and arms in his pockets. "I'll say. You barely moved a muscle."
"That's good?"
"Considering you couldn't stop twitching? I'd say. You lasted ten minutes."
Ten minutes? It had barely felt like any time had passed. She'd know it must have, considering she'd gotten to 167, but it hadn't felt like time. Just...counting. "That's…"
"I think we've found your thing," he said, smiling. "Good. Because I was starting to get bored."
She gave him a tiny smile. It felt...good. Was that the right word? Yes, it was good to finally be able to do something. So many things had gone wrong for her. So many things were complicated. But that technique felt so comfortable. So easy.
Halley knew it wasn't going to be as easy when she used it against Riddle - he would probably tear through her distraction like he was batting away a spider's web - but it was a start. A glimpse of something possible.
"I want to go again!"
Rowle sighed, and in the process it turned into a yawn. He shook his head when he was finished, his hair flicking from side to side. "I don't think so. It's almost 2 am. You can practice on your own for now."
"Fine." Halley got up, feeling her muscles shift and stretch as she moved. Something popped in her spine and it felt good. She went to pick up her book bag, being sure to keep the cloak out of his sight.
Rowle called out just before she was about to leave through the door, and she turned back to look at him.
"We won't be having a session this Saturday."
"Fine."
"I'd also keep clear of the Fifth Floor."
"Why?" she asked immediately.
He was just as quick to answer. "The Prefects and I have a meeting of sorts."
"What kind of meeting?" she asked. She probably should have let it go, but something about it was making her worried.
"The kind you don't want to get caught in. And the kind that I think you'll appreciate."
She narrowed her eyes, but Halley knew better than to ask any more questions. Instead, she nodded and left the Come and Go room, making her way back to her dorm, not able to stop wondering what was going to happen.
Finn didn't believe in coincidence. Something someone had told him once had left its mark. Magic permeated his very blood. That had been nothing new - the Rowles were Ancient and would soon enough be Noble. But the man's words had left an impression on him - even if he couldn't remember his name.
Magic was a gift. It was clear enough to see how Muggleborns struggled to make heads or tails of where they belonged, or how Squibs wondered the world so bitterly for whatever misdeeds they'd done in their past lives.
It fascinated him - the psychology of magic - but it was his to use how he deemed fit, and Finn deemed himself someone who would get what he wanted. His family connections would help, but he wanted to surpass them. He wanted to be more than his father. More than his brother.
And he would. Because magic permeated his very being and it wasn't a coincidence.
He didn't believe in coincidences; when someone had the power to manipulate reality, why would he? But even he had to admit that finding out the Weasley twins were religiously using the Fifth floor touched a little bit too far past being fortunate or lucky. He didn't need to think too hard to know they were using it as a base for one of their annoyingly well thought out pranks. Finn would maintain that the Hat would have put them in Slytherin if it weren't for their unwillingness to tether themselves from their brood of Muggle-sympathising idiots.
Regardless, they were there, just like they seemed to be every Saturday night.
Yaxley had kicked up a fuss. He was still sore about being passed over for Head Boy, so he'd tried to stir up trouble. "At bitty Potter's whim now, are we Rowle?"
But Finn had seen that line of argument coming and had shut Yaxley down with ease. "Will you allow an attack on Slytherin to go unchallenged? The Weasleys sent those spiders in the middle of dinner. What would have happened if one of the First Years had been bitten? What's more, they've targeted us for years. Don't you remember what happened to Nikolas?"
Yaxley bit his tongue then, looking down furiously, and had joined Finn for planning without much more than a glare or two.
The Weasley twins had a vendetta against Slytherin from the moment they'd stepped into Hogwarts, but Nikolas had only been a Second Year.
He'd mentioned something about the Weasleys being too poor for their own good, and the twins had found some way to lace his food with something that forced him to stay awake for days. Nikolas started hallucinating and had taken a step off the moving staircase at the wrong time. He'd been hospitalised in St Mungos for weeks before his parents transferred him to Durmstrung.
Nothing had come of it because there had been no proof, but the twins had looked guilty for days. And the pranking stopped for about three months - until they started up again. Small but persistent until now.
That was their pattern. Small things that built until their 'pranks' went too far and one of their own was injured.
Every one of the six people standing behind him had been targeted by one prank or another and, in the process, he'd gathered the other five Prefects from Year Five upwards. Though Selwyn seemed like she was about to have a nervous breakdown every time they met to plan. She shouldn't have been made Prefect, but she wasn't likely to back out. Nikolus had been her friend.
"Everybody ready?" he asked.
"Where's Greaves?" Pucey asked.
Finn heard the sound of heels clicking along the stone floor and let out a curse under his breath. "Greaves! Why are you wearing heels?!" he asked, not bothering to hide the bite to his words.
Greaves pursed her lips. "I got caught by Snape. He wanted to talk about my Apprenticeship, and I couldn't very well tell him I had other things to do tonight, could I?"
He was about to snap at her again, but Greaves took her shoes off and one by one, configured them into ones with rubber soles.
"Better?" she asked, voice dripping with snark.
"Yes."
"Good. Let's do this."
A quiet mumble came from them all.
The plan was simple. He'd known what he would do as soon as they'd attacked the House. And the new DADA professor had proven himself to be useful when he did the class on Boggarts. An idiot, but a useful one. Pucey and Helleway had been tasked with finding and taking the Boggart.
It was funny how easy it was to snatch the thing from the cupboard it had been kept in. Helleway had kicked up a bit of a fuss, and Pucey hadn't been too keen on it either, but the two of them had successfully brought the trunk tonight. It was in between them. The others were notably keeping their distance - especially Selwyn. Selwyn was standing as far away from the trunk as she was from the rest of them.
"Is there a problem, Annalise?" Finn asked.
Selwyn's shoulders rounded a little as he called her out. She looked at Finn, and then the box. "I just - what if we get caught? What if they tell a professor?"
She really shouldn't have been made Prefect. She didn't have the temperament for it. Still, Finn gave her a warm smile. He walked to her, calmly, and reached out his hand, nipping at her chin affectionately. Selwyn's cheeks went a rosy pink and she looked up at him.
"If you really don't want to, I understand. But they won't know it's us. You have your cloak, right?" She nodded. "Well then, you just need to keep yourself quiet."
Selwyn swallowed. "I think I can do that."
Finn nodded. "There's a girl."
He took a final look at the group, trying to see if anyone else was getting cold feet. He was just about to turn back when Pucey spoke up.
"Travers...are you whimpering?"
"No," Travers said. His voice strained.
"Merlin! We should have left the babies in the dorm."
Finn sighed. Maybe he shouldn't have involved the Fifth Years, but it was a little too late now. Still, he would extend the same courtesy he'd given to Selwyn. "You don't need to stay, Luke. You've done your bit."
"No," he said, firmer now. "I want to stay."
"Are you sure?" Finn asked.
Travers nodded.
Yaxley scoffed and Finn turned to look at him. They both knew Travers would stay - him leaving meant he was too weak, too young, to be involved. The same would happen to Selwyn, but everyone already knew that she couldn't handle the responsibilities of Prefect. She'd already been written off.
But Travers was an heir. If he didn't stay, his reputation would take the rest of his time at Hogwarts to be repaired.
"Does anyone else have a problem?" Greaves asked.
"Let's get this over with," Helleway said.
He couldn't agree more. It was time to begin.
His eyes cut to Yaxley's and he nodded. As if it was rehearsed, the two of them drew their wands in sync and both paced towards the door that held the Weasleys. Flanking the door frame, Finn pressed his ear against it trying to hear any movement. They already knew that they were in there; Finn had scheduled Greaves and Travers to patrol together under the guise of Travers learning from a more experienced Prefect. When the two of them had seen the twins enter, Travers ran back to fetch the others.
From the other side of the door, Finn could hear something faintly. Low murmuring and the sharp twang of metal hitting metal. They were still inside. Yaxley would have never let him live it down if all that planning had been for nothing.
There was another nod, and then they were barraging through the door, wands pointed directly ahead of them. Finn got the pleasure of seeing the Weasley twins' faces distorted with confusion and then fear as their brains processed what was happening. But with a whispered spell, they were both paralysed, and their faces became stuck in that mix of panic and anger. One of them had been struck in the middle of crying out. His mouth forming a large O.
Something vindictive inside Finn twisted in glee to see it. They'd had this coming from the moment they made Slytherin targets, but the False Widows were just the tip of the iceberg.
How many times had they been let off the hook, with maybe only a punishment, when his housemates were left crying, humiliated, hurt or in the hospital wing? How many times had they laughed - and McGonagall and Dumbledore had only pursed their lips and given the twins a slap on the wrist? How many times had they got away with it, just because they had the benefit of being placed in the right House?
Finn gave the nearest one a hard kick in the side. Not enough to do any serious damage, but certainly enough for it to bruise tomorrow.
Feet shuffled in behind him. He turned to see four come in with Helleway and Pucey come in last and shut the door behind them.
There was a tense moment when they all looked at the twins, lying there in awkward positions and looking up at them. Finn wondered if anyone would back out again when the gravity of the situation hit them. Planning was one thing, but staring the people you intended to hurt in the face as you unleashed their fears on them was a completely different thing.
He'd considered using a spell that would let them speak, but in the end Greaves had argued against it. What if their shouts or screams drew professors to them? But now, they were standing in silence, waiting for the timer to end.
Finn hadn't thought about what would happen in the interim. No-one had. Thoughts of whether they would regret it flitted through his mind.
The room was filled with a tension that was part made up of excitement, and part trepidation. But it all blended together to make it bone-wrenchingly uncomfortable. And then, there were footsteps coming from the hallway.
"Shit!" Yaxley whispered. "Filch - or professors!"
"Go!" Greaves ordered. "Rowle! Stay with me!"
The rest scattered through the door - and in hindsight it was probably not a good idea for everyone to leave at the same time. But they'd done it now.
Greaves removed her hood, motioning for Finn to do the same as she closed the door behind them. His heart pounded in his mouth as he stepped closer to Greaves. Their cover was simply going to be a final patrol of the corridors at midnight. Checking rooms and broom closets for inappropriate behaviour. Nothing more.
He was about to put on the grin he kept for professors when Potter appeared from the shadows carrying an old piece of parchment.
"Get back to bed, Potter!" Greaves said, immediately. She was making sure to keep her voice at a low enough level that the twins wouldn't hear through the door.
Potter ignored her and looked at Finn. "What are you doing to the Weasleys?" she asked, levelly.
Finn looked back at her and his mind raced with too many thoughts. She owed them nothing, but Potter wasn't the type to get involved in things she didn't need to. She preached wanting revenge, but he didn't really think that was the case. She just didn't want to be humiliated.
And besides, he'd sort of wanted her to see.
"Didn't you hear me?" Greaves asked, her voice slightly raised.
Finn thought fast.
The Seventh Year Prefect was still glaring at her - Greaves, Halley thought. Her eyes were as brown as the woman, and she blended into the candle-lit hallway in contrast to Rowle's pale skin which seemed to stand out naturally against the warm glow. They were an interesting contrast to look at.
She'd seen Greaves around the common room shuffling people along and taking points from students that gave her cheek. Halley hadn't had a face to face encounter with her yet, and it seemed she was making a bad first impression. She couldn't bring herself to care.
She'd felt uneasy all evening - Rowle's warning ringing in her head the closer it came to night. And so, she pulled out the map and watched him gather with the other Prefects outside a room that the Weasley twins were in, and she knew something was going to happen.
And now, here she was, watching Rowle who was watching her.
"I told you to stay away," he said.
She didn't answer and he sighed.
"They deserve what's coming to them. You know that."
"What are you doing?!" Greaves asked. "She's not a part of this."
"But you are, aren't you Potter? You may not have instigated this, but you're their new target." Rowle said. His gaze was intense. Even more so as he walked up to her. She followed his eyes with her own until he was too close for comfort and she took a step back to keep a suitable distance between the two of them. She wasn't going to let him get into her space so that he could manipulate her like all the other girls.
"What did you do to them?"
"Rowle!" Greaves warned.
"Be quiet!" he snapped. "They're getting acquainted with their fears."
Halley inhaled, hissing through her teeth. The cold air hit them and there was a sharp sting of pain at her two front teeth. She ran her tongue over them to soothe it. "You released a Boggart on them."
He nodded. "You asked me to help. That's what I've done."
Not like that, she wanted to say. Who knew how they would retaliate now? And...it was wrong, wasn't it? This was wrong. Pain was one thing - people could manage pain. But fear could damage a person beyond repair. People could choose not to inflict it if they wanted to.
"How long have they been in there?"
"About fifteen minutes now."
"I want to see them." The words tumbled out of her mouth without her realising, but once she processed them, she knew it was true. She wanted to see the twins.
"You'll need a hood."
"That's it," Greaves spat. "This is the stupidest thing I've ever seen you do. She's a liability - Dumbledore's pet!"
"You won't be any more implicated by me going inside," Halley said. "I already know who was involved."
Greaves' head whipped around to look at Halley. But instead of angry like she expected, Greaves seemed smug. "Little girl, you've just shown your hand."
"You had the upper year Prefects," Halley said - cutting her off factually. "Fifth to Seventh years - and Rowle of course. Do you want me to name them?"
Greaves' smug smile quickly turned to confusion, and then frustration. But she had lost. If Halley had the names, then she could go to the Professors if she wanted. They both knew she wouldn't really, but she had ammunition against them all now.
"Get your hood on. Don't make a sound. We'll have a minute," Rowle said.
She nodded and all of a sudden, she was being ushered through the door with Rowle pulling her from in front. His large frame was in the way, but he only stood at the edge of the room.
She heard cries first. Frantic, fearful, pained cries and her eyes followed towards the sound.
It was difficult to see much in the room. Her eyes were still adjusting from the candlelight in the hallway, but as they did, she noticed the tell-tale red of the Weasleys' hair. She saw movement, and her eyes followed.
Ginevra Weasley was hunched over in pain. She was tiny and small and broken, and she kept crying out for help - reaching a hand out to someone who wasn't there. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot - and then she was being attacked by something invisible. Something that was killing her.
Halley's breath caught in her throat at seeing the girl and everything rushed away leaving her with the damp smell of the Chamber - and the sound of cracking bones - and Riddle's cold laughter rang through her ears.
And then Ginevra Weasley changed into someone else. Multiple someones - and Halley felt the tightness in her throat lessened as slowly, with palpable relief - she realised that it wasn't her. It wasn't Ginny.
It was the twins' Boggart.
The next thing she saw was the whole of who she could only assume was the Weasley family lying dead on the ground. Some glassy-eyed, some missing body parts and some in that in-between stage. That one - a man with long hair and a fanged earring - was trying to gasp for breath, but with each painfully difficult movement, he was losing his life slowly but surely until he stopped.
The Boggart kept going between the two of them, changing from their sister's cries for help being ignored, and all their family.
The twins were frozen with a spell, angled in such a way that all she could see were red faces that clashed horribly with their hair, and tears streaming down their cheeks.
And the Boggart was still there.
A few moments later, it faced her and Rowle and started changing. Halley saw a man with hair similar to Rowle's before he raised his wand and whispered the spell to change it under his breath. The Boggart shifted into a giraffe, its long legs struggling to keep its body upright due to the rollerskates on its hooves, then she was ushered out of the room again.
"Did you get what you needed?" Greaves asked, bitterly.
"How long are you going to keep them like that?" she asked.
"The spell wears off after half an hour. We'll leave them to sort it out on their own," Rowle said.
Halley nodded slowly. She wasn't going to get revenge on them - she didn't have the capacity. But standing there and staring at the two people unable to help themselves as their fears repeated over and over again was good. It felt good. Something unnameable sat at the base of her stomach and her skull. It tingled and throbbed until she wanted to laugh.
They were in pain. Good. They were hurting. Good. They were scared. Good. They knew just how she'd felt in the hospital bed. And a part of her thought it almost wasn't enough.
But it was. She'd seen them. She could go now.
"Alright. Goodnight then," she said. Greaves called out for her as she turned to leave - so did Rowle - but she didn't really register their voices. Halley just wanted to laugh.
She didn't, not till she got to her bed, but as soon as she was in it she let out a giggle that turned into a full-bellied laugh. One that woke the others up.
"Shut the fuck up before I smother you," Parkinson mumbled angrily from her bed.
Halley calmed down, but the giddiness was still there. It took a little while before she could get herself to sleep, but when she did it came easily. A rarity for her.
That night she remembered her dream so vividly. Riddle was there. He watched her watch the twins - in whatever dream memory she has of them. "It feels good, doesn't it?" he asks.
"It does."
"You can feel like that all the time."
"Is that what you feel?"
He laughs. "Oh little Halley. I feel so much more."
She waits and looks at him. He looks powerful. He looks content. He looks at ease. "I want to feel what you feel."
"Then let me in."
She feels a prickle of unease somewhere near her head and near her fingertips. An echo - calling for her. Tom calling for her. "Not yet."
"But soon."
"Maybe."
"Soon."
A.N: Lots of things happening here that are important to character development. It's been an interesting journey that is still going on (and being written).
So...I have a request. My beta recently let me know they can no longer beta for this fic and so I thought I might reach out here. It's a bit of a cheeky ask, but you all already know the fic - and if you're still here then you must enjoy something from it, right? So I thought I would ask. You don't get anything if you don't ask.
Would anyone be interested in beta-reading this fic? My old agreement was that I would ask her to look at specific elements within the chapter - eg. pacing, motivations, bits I was worried about - and she would provide feedback. In return, I commented on her fic. I am open to negotiating other things that work well for both of us too.
So yeah, if anyone is interested, drop me a comment and we can continue the discussion. Thank you and I hope you have a great week :)
