The library was nearly empty, save for a few Ravenclaws and Miss Pince leafing through a copy of Witch Weekly behind the reference desk. Hilda had chosen an alcove the farthest from the door and had her wand lying on the study table, inspecting it intently.

It's just a piece of wood.

Hilda sat up with a gasp, head swiveling around. "Hello?" she asked.

Hello.

Hilda realized the voice was coming from her head. "What are you?" she whispered.

A friend.

Hilda put her head down on the desk. "How did you get in my head?"

I've always been here, waiting, watching from the back of your eyes, sleeping for years as you grew up. Your magical awakening awoke me as well. You have quite the potential for greatness, yet you allow people to push you over, to insult you.

"That's because I'm a good person," Hilda said.

Oh, you try to be, the voice noted. But you get tired of it.

"Are you going to be the kind of voice that tells me to do bad things?"

I don't need to, you'd learn to do it anyway, Hilda. You can do terrible wonders if you only knew how. Your mother knew that. Why was it you grew up in the wilderness and not in the city? Was it for your safety, or Trolberg's?

"Moving back to the city was mum's idea," Hilda insisted. "You're lying to me."

The hat was right, there is a darkness in you. I am that darkness.

"You can't define me."

Don't lie to yourself. I'll help you come round eventually.

"Go away!" Hilda shouted, banging her fist.

"Hilda?" Hilda looked up and saw Frida and David standing over her, concern on their faces. "Are you alright?" Frida asked.

"Y-yes," Hilda stuttered, looking around. "I'm sorry. I thought you were Malfoy."

"You missed dinner, so we came to look for you," David said.

"We heard about your big fight with Draco," Frida continued. "Don't feel bad about what happened, Hilda. Some people are just born bad, and I guess Malfoy is one of them."

"You're wrong," Hilda stood up, eyes cold. "No one is born bad!"

Keep telling yourself that, my child.

Madam Pince rounded the stacks. "If you insist on shouting, Miss Dahl, then I must ask you to leave the library this instant," she said, scowling.

Are you going to let her tell you what to do?

"Please," Hilda groaned. She stood up and ran from the library, leaving her friends and her wand behind.

"Please let me back in!" Alfur said.

"I can't let you in if I can't see you," the Fat Lady said, trying to find the source of the voice. "It's bad enough that boy in the Invisibility Cloak keeps coming and going at all hours. I can't make exceptions for everybody."

"Who has an Invisibility Cloak?" the elf asked, but the Fat Lady had left the portrait, leaving an empty frame. "Cruddlesticks," Alfur muttered. He stepped to one side of the portrait and sat down against the wall, resting his head in his hands. "I don't have hands," he noted, correcting the narrator. Whistling a tune, he soon grew bored sitting on the cold floor and decided to have a stroll of his surroundings.

He began to descend the grand staircase, gazing while he did at the hundreds of portraits on the walls around him. He became so wrapped up in his sightseeing that he forgot about the trick step. With a squeak, he tumbled through the air, plummeting five stories before something soft broke his fall.

Percy Weasley broke off mid-sentence from the conversation he'd been having. "That's funny," he said, taking off his hat and inspecting it.

"What's funny?" the Hufflepuff prefect he'd been talking to asked.

"I could have sworn something landed on my hat." He shrugged and put it back on. "Oh, well. Say, the trip to Honeydukes is coming up, Audrey. I was wondering…"

The girl winced. "Oh, sorry, Perce, I have to wash my owl that day."

"...A simple no would have sufficed."

As the two prefects walked away, Alfur picked himself up from the floor and rubbed his head, groaning. He looked up at the spot he'd fallen from. "Oh, crumbs, it'll take me forever to get back up there."

He sat down again, wondering how to proceed. In the end he decided to kill some time by starting a report for the elves detailing the hazards of placing invisible gaps in magical staircases. Whose idea was that in the first place? Clearly they didn't account for the potential of personal injury lawsuits.

After a few minutes, he became aware of a voice mumbling from not too far away. "Harry Potter is in danger at Hogwarts," the voice repeated to itself, over and over. "Oh, why won't Harry Potter listen to Dobby?"

Alfur traced the source to a tapestry of Mildred Hubble the Magnificent and pulled it aside, revealing a shivering house elf clad in a particularly unattractive tea cozy. "Hello," Alfur said. The house elf leapt into the air with a shriek, glancing around frantically. "Down here."

The elf looked down, its saucer-sized eyes widening as it caught sight of Alfur. "Who are you?" it asked.

"I'm Alfur. You must be Dobby. The house elves in the kitchen mentioned you a while back."

"Dobby is pleased to meet Mr. Alfur," Dobby replied. "But Dobby must be going now."

"What was that you were saying about Harry Potter?"

The elf's eye went wide, and before Alfur could stop him he began to slam his head against the stone wall. "Bad Dobby!" he wailed.

"Stop! Stop!" Alfur pleaded. "Don't hit yourself, it's alright."

"Mr. Alfur doesn't understand," Dobby said, lowering his voice and scanning the nearby area. "Dobby is not supposed to be here. No one is supposed to know that Dobby is here."

"Well, forgive me for saying this, but you're not doing a very good job of it. What are you trying to warn Harry about?"

"Dobby can't tell."

"Well, you said he's in danger. If anyone else in the castle is in danger, then shouldn't you warn me as well?"

Dobby thought for a moment, then nodded. "Dobby sees your reasoning. Very well, there is something evil in Hogwarts. Dobby hears it in the halls at night. Horrible things are at work. People want Harry Potter to suffer. No one is safe."

"How do you know all of this?" Alfur asked.

"Dobby cannot say."

"You can tell me," Alfur said. He held up his arms as Dobby grabbed a mace from a nearby suit of armor and prepared to strike himself with it. "Or, you know, you don't have to—please put the weapon down."

Dobby set down the weapon and began to weep. "Dobby has tried everything to keep Harry Potter away, but Harry Potter will not listen!"

"If Hogwarts is in as great a danger as you claim, you should warn the Headmaster as soon as possible," Alfur pointed out.

"Dobby cannot!" the house elf said. "Dobby is breaking the rules as it is." The house elf's large ears perked up. "She is coming!" Dobby said, eyes widening in fright. "Dobby must go. Run, Mr. Alfy!"

"Wait, before you go, could you help me get back to the Gryffindor—" but the house elf vanished with the crack of a whip. "—Tower? Oh, blast."

He turned and froze at the sight of a familiar creature eying his with its large, yellow eyes, whiskers twitching. "Oh, hello!" Alfur said. "You're like one of those cats that tried to eat me in Trolberg." A second later, realization reared its ugly head. "Oh no," he said.

Mrs. Norris advanced slowly towards the elf, crouching low on her haunches. "Nice kitty," Alfur said, slowly taking a step back. As the cat finally sprung, he moved, scampering across the hall and into a corridor, his scream trailing behind him.

This beats a mouse any day, Mrs. Norris thought, before dashing after her newfound prey.

All this running away is terribly unflattering for a future lady of darkness.

"Shutupshutupshutup!" Hilda said, striding quickly away from the library.

-And all this talking to yourself will make people think you're mad. Which, of course, you are.

"I'm not mad," Hilda growled.

She says to the voice in her head.

"AAAARGH!" Hilda stopped in the deserted corridor and leaned her head against the wall. "Maybe I am mad."

That's the spirit.

"Look, if you're going to keep talking to me non-stop, I swear I'll go see a psychiatrist."

The voice gasped, showing a hint of emotion for the first time. You wouldn't dare!

"Try me!"

...Alright, look. This year is going to be hard enough for both of us if we don't find some way of coexisting. I am willing to make concessions if you agree to some concessions in turn.

"Well, you can stop with that stupid hissing," Hilda snarled. "It's driving me up the wall."

That's not my doing.

"What are you—" Hilda froze as she heard the noise again. A second later, something thudded against the wall, a foot to her left. Leaping back, she watched, horrified, as the wall began to bulge, mortar popping off in chunks. Through the gaps, water seeped onto the floor, forming a puddle that collected around Hilda's feet.

Alright, this is interesting, the voice noted, and not in the good way, like a public hanging.

"Hilda!"

Alfur dove out of the way of Mrs. Norris's paw, cartwheeling back to his feet and resuming his frantic escape. "Hilda! Help!"

He was getting tired. "Curses!" he whined. "I'm a bureaucrat, not a track runner!"

At the next corner, his left foot hit a patch of wet flood and slid out from him. With a shout of surprise, he tumbled across the corridor, smacking into the opposite wall with a muffled oomph.

For a few moments, he lay dazed, before a gust of hot breath blew his hat loose from his head. Opening his eyes, he waited for his vision to clear. When it did, he wished he hadn't. Mrs. Norris's face loomed over him. She licked her lips and purred. "Oh, good gravy," Alfur said.

"Mrs. Norris!" The cat turned her head to see who was speaking, then took off, disappearing around a corner. Harry Potter walked up to where she had been standing, pausing to examine the puddle that had formed by the wall. He then stopped, reached down, and picked up what upon closer inspection was a tiny red hat.

"Harry!" the boy glanced around, confused. He then looked down and noticed tiny wet footprints coming towards him. "Am I glad to see you!"

"I'm sorry, who am I talking to?" Harry asked.

"Oh, apologies. I'm Alfur, Hilda's elf friend. We haven't been properly introduced."

"Why can't I see you?"

"You haven't signed the paperwork."

"Ah, I see," Harry said. He didn't, both figuratively and literally. "What are you doing out here?"

"I got locked out of Gryffindor Tower, and that awful cat tried to eat me."

"Yeah, that Mrs. Norris is a pest," Harry agreed. "We'd better go before she comes back. Want me to carry you?"

"Please, my little legs are starting to get sore." Harry kneeled down into the puddle and held out his hand, surprised to feel a small weight step aboard. "Have you seen Hilda at all today?" the elf asked.

"I was about to start looking for her," Harry replied, starting to walk down the corridor. "She got into a fight this morning with Malfoy at the Quidditch Pitch."

"Is she all right?"

"She was very upset," Harry admitted. He splashed through another puddle and stopped, giving a huff of irritation. "My trainers are soaked. Why are the floors so wet?" he asked. Before Alfur could reply, Harry heard the voice.

Come.. come to me… let me rip you… let me tear you… let me kill you.

"Alfur," Harry said, wavering in place for a second, his free hand patting down his robe for his wand. "Did you hear that?"

"Yes. Sounds like a steam pipe's sprung a leak."

"No, I'm talking about the voice."

"What voice?"

Harry paused listening again. "It's gone."

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about?"

"You didn't hear someone whispering about killing and tearing?"

Before Alfur could respond, a high-pitched scream echoed through the halls. Two heads turned in unison. "Hilda!" A second later, another, lower scream joined the first. "...Malfoy?"

Hilda's legs burned from the exertion, her muscles begging for her to slow down, but she ignored them. If she slowed down, that… thing in the walls would get her. In spite of her apprehension, she turned her head to look behind her. The bulge in the corridor wall was following and getting closer. "Any ideas?" she asked.

Yes, run faster.

"You are no help at all!" she shouted. She turned a corner too fast, sideswiping a suit of armor and knocking it to the floor with a loud crash of plate metal. "What is that thing?"

If I knew, I would still advise we keep running away from it.

Someone stepped into view farther down the hall. Hilda slowed down, then realized it was Malfoy. "Oh, great. I'm going to die, and Draco Malfoy is going to have the pleasure of witnessing it."

"Hilda, what on earth were you playing at on the pitch?" Draco shouted, stepping in Hilda's way. Hilda sidestepped the Slytherin and dashed on. "Hey! I'm talking to you!" he shouted, anger rising. "Don't run away from me while I'm talking!"

"Draco! Behind you!" Draco turned back to look at where Hilda had come from. His eyes widened at the sight of the bulging wall bearing down on him.

A minute later, Draco had caught up with Hilda. "What is that?" he shouted, resisting the urge to look back.

"Less questions, more running!"

The pursuer had by this point caught up with the two students. To Draco and Hilda's horror it swiftly passed them and vanished around a bend in the corridor twenty ten yards ahead. Hilda skidded to a halt and grabbed Draco by the neck of his robe, causing him to gag and fall flat on his back. "What are you doing?" Draco asked, grabbing his sore neck and staring up at Hilda in disbelief.

"Be quiet!" Hilda said. Draco reluctantly obeyed, and together they watched as the creature grew farther and farther away. Hilda breathed a sigh of relief. "It's gone."

"No, listen! It's coming back!" Standing slowly, Draco drew his wand, motioning to Hilda to do the same.

"I don't have my wand," Hilda hissed.

Malfoy groaned. "Then take cover!" He whispered as the footsteps grew louder. He counted to three in his head. He had to time it just right. Hilda crouched behind a nearby concrete urn and waited.

On three, a dark blur of a form rounded the corner, "Stupify!" Draco shouted.

"Stupify!" the blur replied in turn.

The two stunning spells zoomed past one another, striking their targets in the chests and throwing themselves to the ground hard enough to drive the wind from their stomachs. around the corner. Startled, Hilda stepped out from behind her cover, watching Draco and Harry as flopped around in the flooded corridor like fish out of water, gasping for air. "Oops," she said.

Alfur, who had been thrown clear of the spell, sat up and coughed a lungful of water from his mouth. "Well, at least we found Hilda in one piece," he wheezed.

Hilda smacked herself in the forehead and moaned. "If someone were to find us right now, there'd be a lot of questions I'd need to answer."

Argus Filch took that moment to round the corner, Mrs. Norris following at his heels. "Then start answering, Ickle Firstie," he said, grinning toothily at the girl.

I think I'll just duck out for a moment, the voice said. Have fun.

"Three students out past curfew," Filch said. "A duel in the corridors, a veritable river running through the second floor." The caretaker gave a sinister smile and laughed. "You three are in for a world of pain when Dumbledore hears about this."

"Mr. Filch, if we could just explain," Hilda began.

"Oh, by all means, I'd love to hear the story again about the monster in the walls," Filch cackled. "No one knows this school more than me, Miss Dahl. There's nothing behind those stones but pipes and mice. If there were some beast lurking back there, I'd know about it."

"Then how do you explain the voice?" Harry asked.

"What voice?"

Harry groaned. "Did no one hear the voice but me?"

"Unlike you, Potter," Draco growled. "Dahl and I have managed to keep all of our marbles together."

Hilda decided not to mention the fact that while she had been hearing a voice, it was probably completely unrelated to the situation at present. She just sat still in her chair and tried not to look at Malfoy.

It was just then that a strange white mist entered the room, materializing into a beautiful fluorescent cat. "Mr. Filch," the cat said in McGonagall's voice. "Students have complained that some of the hallways on the second floor are flooded. If you would kindly sort it out before someone slips and hurts themselves, Dumbledore would most appreciate it." A second later, the ghostly cat dissipated.

Filch muttered something under his breath, then went for his mop. "You lot wait right here. Anyone tries to leave, and I'll temporarily forget the ban on corporal punishment."

The second Filch left, Malfoy jumped up and walked around to the caretaker's desk. "What are you doing?" Harry said, glancing back to the door.

"Filch confiscated some items from me earlier this year," Malfoy replied, trying several of the drawers. "Now's as good a time as any to get them back."

"Malfoy, don't. We're in enough trouble as it is," Hilda hissed.

Draco ignored her and opened the top left drawer. His brow furrowed. "What's this?"

In spite of themselves, Harry and Hilda stood up and went to see what Malfoy was referring to. Harry pulled a folded parchment out and read the title head aloud. "Kwikspell? What on earth is that?"

"It's a postal course for learning magic," Malfoy explained. "It's mostly a scam. The only people who buy into it are squibs."

"So why would Filch have this in his desk? Do you think it was confiscated?"

"No," Hilda pointed to the addressee of the parchment. "It has his name on it."

"Filch is a squib?" Malfoy asked. He snickered. "That explains so much."

"What's wrong with being a squib, Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"Please, they're the embarrassments of the wizarding world. I've known wizards who've disowned their children for being born squibs." Malfoy began to refold the parchment. "The Slytherin's will flip when I tell them."

"You're not telling them about this!" Hilda said, snatching the parchment from the boy. "You'll humiliate him in front of the entire school!"

"So? Everyone already hates him."

"It's wrong!"

Draco gave Hilda a pointed look. "You're not in the position at the moment to teach me morals, Hilda."

It was then that Filch returned to his office. "Forgot the bloody sponge," he muttered. Upon sighting the students, he froze, eyes widening. "What are you lot doing!" he yelled. Striding forward, he snatched the parchment from Hilda's hands and glanced at it, flinching. After a few moments of shock, he fixed his eyes back to the students. "Get. Out. Now." When the students didn't move fast enough, he slammed the handle of the mop down on the desk. "GET OUT!" he screeched.

The three took off for the door, Malfoy splitting from the Harry and Hilda to return to the Slytherin dormitory. Harry and Hilda rounded a corner before stopping to take a breath. Harry straightened up and looked at Hilda. "What was Malfoy talking about in there?" he asked.

Hilda stuttered for a moment, then ran. Harry watched her go. "Alfur, do you have any idea what he was talking about?" he asked, glancing to his left shoulder.

The elf gave a shrug, then realized that Harry was unable to see the gesture. "No, not a clue."

A month after the events in the second-floor corridor, and Hilda was still brooding. Sure, the voice in her head hadn't spoken up since that night, but she could feel its presence loitering at margins of her thoughts, observing silently. Despite their best efforts, neither, Frida and David or Alfur could rouse her from her funk. The professors had also noticed her uncharacteristic mood shift, to the concern of all but Snape, who was enjoying the respite from the girl's endless questions and interruptions in his class. He was so relaxed, he'd even let up on Harry to some degree, though he still deducted house points, although at a less steady frequency.

The week of Halloween rolled around. Sunday found Hilda hiding in the library, Twig at her side. A light rain was tapping on the windows, and every so often an occasional gust of autumn wind rattled the panes. Hilda gazed through the window with a thousand-yard stare.

"Sickle for your thoughts?"

Hilda turned to see Miss Runa behind her, leaning against a shelf. "It's nothing," Hilda answered.

The librarian said, crossing her arms and giving the girl an incredulous look."I doubt that. I can read you like an open book if you'll pardon the expression. Spill."

Hilda sighed. "I don't want to talk about it."

"No one ever does," Miss Runa replied. "But it's good to talk about your troubles. It's unhealthy to bottle it all in." She thought for a moment. "It's about Mr. Malfoy, isn't it?"

"How did you know?" Hilda asked, gobsmacked. Miss Runa gave the girl a cryptic smile. Hilda put her chin down onto the table. "We had a fight, and I almost did something terrible to him. I feel awful about it, but he insulted a friend about it. Then, he insulted Mr. Filch for being a squib, and my mum is a squib. I don't know what to do. I thought he was my friend, but now I don't know what to think."

"You should talk to him about it."

"Even if I wasn't afraid to do so, he's been avoiding me like the plague."

"He's in the library, you know," Miss Runa said, gesturing over the stacks. "He's studying in the north alcove."

"Are his awful friends with him?" Hilda asked.

"Are you referring to Messrs Crabbe and Goyle? I'm sure they'd never be caught dead in a library."

Hilda smiled at the joke. "I don't know if I have the nerve to confront him."

Miss Runa nodded in understanding, then cupped her hands over her mouth. "Mr. Malfoy!" she called, eliciting a round of angry shushes from several Ravenclaws two tables over. A moment later, Mr. Malfoy appeared, stopping as he spotted Hilda. "Mr. Malfoy, Miss Dahl has something she would like to discuss with you." Hilda and Draco both looked at each other, then at the librarian, mortified. Miss Runa smiled. "I'll leave you two to it," she said before vanishing.

Hilda smiled sheepishly. "Hi." Draco grimaced, then made to walk away. "Please, can we talk?" Hilda asked, stopping him. Draco turned back and sighed, but took a seat at the table opposite her. Hilda fiddled with her thumbs for a few moments before beginning. "I need to talk to you about the day of the Quidditch practice."

"Me too," Draco said. Hilda waited for him to continue, but he seemed nervous to continue. He finally forced it out. "I'm sorry."

"For what, and why?"

"I'm sorry I told you we weren't friends. I had to do it, though."

"What on earth does that mean?"

Draco rubbed the back of his head and broke eye contact. "The Malfoys have a reputation to keep up—I have a reputation to keep up."

"What? Snakes and Lions can't be friends?"

Draco nodded. "It's a matter of house unity. Gryffindors and Slytherins have always been rivals; it would be a betrayal of sorts to break that tradition."

"Why did you call Hermione a Mudblood?"

Malfoy shrugged "Because she's a Mudblood," Draco.

"And you're a prat, but you don't hear me calling you that to your face."

"Look, I'm not going to try and explain the Pureblood politics to you, because you're just going to fight me on it like a true Gryffindor."

"Why would you use such a crude word on anyone?"

"Why are you offended? Your grandad was one of the most famous Purebloods of his era."

"I'm not personally insulted by that—you insulted Filch for being a squib, too," Hilda said.

"So?"

"My mum is a squib," Hilda replied. "I never met my father. What if he was a Muggle? Would you throw me to the curb now?

"Don't be like that. I said I was sorry."

Hilda wasn't satisfied. "If you were sorry, you'd apologize to Hermione."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because that's not how it's done!" Malfoy's temper was rising.

"Why? Are you afraid of disappointing your father?"

"Don't talk to me about my father!" Malfoy said, banging on the table. "Everything I know I learned from my father."

"But you're not you father!" Hilda replied angrily. "You don't have to be."

Draco stiffened. "You don't know my father," he said slowly, "And you don't know me. You're new to this world, Hilda, in time you'll learn that this is how things are, how they've always been, and how they always will be."

Hilda stood up, pushing her chair back with a shriek of wood on stone. "You can take your apology and throw it out the window. I wish I'd never spoken to you in that bookshop," she said before storming away. Twig raised his hackles and growled at the Slytherin before following her.

"Yeah, me too," Draco said to himself.

Miss Runa appeared from around the corner of a shelf, her arms crossed. "Good job, Mr. Malfoy." Draco stood up and pushed past her without acknowledging her presence. "Okay, you are just batting a Century today, aren't you?"

Now we know a little more about Hilda's dark side. What could this all mean? *shrugs*.

For those who don't play cricket (and I do not, so I had to research the sport's glossary for the proper term to use), a Century is when a player achieves an individual score of 100 or more runs. Think of it as batting .300, for those who follow baseball.

Edit, 2/13/19: I decided to remove Hilda's attempted Cruciatus casting. It never really sat well with me, to be honest. Just completely out of character for our heroine.