Third year, Part Two

It was only on the fourth day of the new school year that Ginny got to experience the class she'd most been looking forward to; Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Arithmancy and Ancient Runes had both been interesting, even if the introductory lectures to both of them were not quite what she had expected.

"Arithmancy," Professor Vector had said, "is not simply another method of predicting the future. Nor is it merely an ingredient in Spellcrafting. The Arithmantic properties of each and every number define reality. They affect every single area of magic. Many of you may have joined this class believing it is something else. It is not. For quite some time, we will be doing nothing other than studying the properties of the ten base numbers. We will not even be thinking about addition until next term, let alone something as complex as multiplication. Anyone unwilling to commit themselves to a serious and dedicated study of the numbers is asked to leave."

Professor Babbling had followed in a similar vein.

"Many of you," she said, "are labouring under false impressions regarding this subject. You have heard tales about Scandinavian wizards of old, and have thought to follow in their footsteps and use battle runes. You will learn how to do that."

She had smiled then, looking like nothing if not a shark.

"If you receive a good enough O.W.L. result and are accepted back into this class, you will begin to learn runic magic. Until then, we will be doing nothing other than learning the language commonly referred to as Ancient Runes."

There had been more than a few disappointed faces in the class at that, but Ginny didn't mind. She'd taken Runes mostly because she wanted to learn how to read them, not because of any mistaken ideas about the syllabus.

They hadn't learned much in either of her new classes. Professor Vector had spoken for a while about the theory of Arithmancy before talking about the number one, and Professor Babbling had given them a brief history of Ancient Runes before starting to explain the alphabet to them.

Charms and Transfiguration as well hadn't included any real new information. In both of them, they'd started doing some revision of the previous year's classes.

She'd fallen asleep mere minutes after Binns had started droning about the witch hunts. She'd heard all about them from Tom, and he'd been a far more interesting teacher.

She hadn't had Potions, Herbology, or Astronomy yet. From all of her classes though, she was definitely most excited for Defence.

Even if she hadn't heard Fred and George's glowing recommendations, she'd have been excited to learn from Moody.

There were very few Aurors as well-known as Moody was. If she wanted to actually learn how to fight, he'd be a big help.

'As long as he doesn't find out why you want to learn to fight.'

'Maybe he would help me, maybe he'd be able to fix me-'

'He'd lock you in Azkaban before you could speak. Don't be idiotic. There's nothing about you that needs fixing except for your laziness.'

It was with an almost solid feeling of anticipation in the air that the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw third years entered the Defence classroom once the bell had rung.

Moody was waiting for them, his wooden leg clanking as he tapped it restlessly against the stone floor.

"Get yourselves seated," he said, waving a hand at the rows of desks before him, "You should all be old enough to sort yourselves out."

Ginny avoided the mild scrum for the front row of seats, choosing a desk in the middle of the class.

"Fine," Moody said after a few minutes, clapping his gnarled hands together, "that's done with. Now, over the course of this year, I'm meant to be training you how to defend yourselves from all of the terrible beasties you might be exposed to. Who can tell me the most dangerous creature out there?"

Almost everyone raised their hands.

"You," Moody said, pointing seemingly at random.

"A lethifold," Darryl Hart said promptly.

Moody said nothing, simply aiming his hand at someone else.

"A dragon," Evelyn answered, but again, Moody moved on.

"A manticore,"

"A nundu,"

"Dementor,"

"Vampires,"

"Giants,"

"A werewolf."

One by one, Moody ran through class, ignoring Ginny's attempted answer of a Quintaped just as he had ignored everyone else.

"All about done? Good, because all of you are wrong. MAN," he suddenly roared, making everyone jump and Lester Bridge knock over his ink bottle.

"You are far more likely to be killed or maimed by one of your fellow witches and wizards, even by a Muggle, than by any other beast. Most murdered people knew their murderer. Look around you."

Everyone did, exchanging puzzled glances as Moody went on.

"You are more likely to be killed by the person sitting next to you than by anything else in the world."

'He really is mad.'

"And that's why," he continued, his magical eye spinning around, landing on each of the students for a second or two before moving on, "I'm not only going to be teaching you about animals. We'll learn about them, but we'll also be learning all about good old fashioned curses, hexes, and jinxes. I will expect you to do the work I set, and to do it on time. I will expect you to practice the spells I set in your own time. I will expect you to put away your Witch Weekly and pay attention."

Priscilla gave a little jump before blushing and dropping the magazine into her bag.

"Right," Moody said, clapping his hands again, "let's get started."

She pushed against the swarm of students heading toward the grounds for their Care of Magical Creatures lesson, her mind still swimming with Moody's lecture.

He certainly knew his stuff. They hadn't done anything this class other than listen to him talk about curses, but it was still readily apparent how well versed he was with the material.

In fact, she was sure that if she just paid attention to some of his offhand comments, she'd be able to cast the spells from the Restricted Section that she was still struggling with.

She was planning, given her free period, to make way for one of the empty classrooms she usually used for training, and to try to begin making up for her waste of a summer.

"Ginny! Hey, wait up!"

She turned, elbowing one of her classmates aside.

Colin took the empty space beside her a moment later. By the look of things, he'd run after her. He was huffing and puffing, and his face was red.

"I thought you were taking Magical Creatures," he said, "went all the way down till I realized you weren't there."

"I thought I told you I was taking Runes and Arithmancy," she said.

"You probably did. Anyway, I've got to run again, just wanted to check if we'll be carrying on with…" he looked around, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "you know. What we were doing last year."

'What an absolute fool. Disgusting little Mudblood. He's a waste of your time.'

"Yeah," she said, "but I think only next week. I want to get used to the new schedule first."

"Good with me," he said, giving her a bright grin, "I'll see you later."

'The most use he can have is if you practice on him.'

She sighed, lowering her wand, her arm feeling quite tired and sore.

Unless she was very much mistaken, she'd just managed to cast the Choking Curse successfully for the first time.

It was hard to be sure, testing as she was in an empty room. Done properly, the curse wasn't meant to have any visible signs of it working, other than the target slowly being strangled to death, of course.

Still, she'd felt something, almost like there was an invisible rope stretching from the top of her wand, flailing around the room for something to grasp onto before fading.

She was almost certain that she'd done it properly. The key had been making herself feel the right emotion. She'd known that emotions were a strong component in many curses ever since she first saw a note in one of the books in the Restricted Section, but it had been Moody that really gave her the help she needed.

He'd been giving what he called a short primer on curses, which had taken up most of the lesson. He'd said that many curses required the caster to feel emotions like hatred, anger, or fear, and that it was this component of the spell which made them so much more difficult to heal.

When he'd mentioned hate, it was like a firework had gone off in her mind. She'd realized immediately what it was she needed to do, and had set off after class to test just that.

It was almost too easy to make herself feel the hatred bubbling up in her. All she needed to do was allow herself to think of Harry Potter, or of the expressions her parents would have if they somehow found out she still loved Tom.

It was easy, and it made casting the Choking Curse easy as well.

'Very good,' that little voice in the back of her mind said, sounding pleased, 'you've managed it. Now you need something to test it on.'

"No," she said stubbornly, "I don't. If I did it right, it'll work right even if I have to use it on a person."

'If you did it right. If. And if you did it wrong, you'll only find out too late.'

"I don't care. I'm not stealing someone's pet just to-"

'Ungrateful bitch. Useless, ungrateful bitch. Would Tom have held back from hurting an animal if it was necessary to help you?'

"I don't want to."

'You think you'd kill a person for him, but you can't hurt an animal? You're lying to yourself again.'

She dropped to the floor, scurrying until she had her back to the wall and her knees drawn up before her, the clouds of dust thrown up by her passage gently settling over her.

"I don't-I-I don't need-"

'Do you really think you wouldn't? You said you'd be a soldier for him. You said you'd kill for him.'

She shook her head, tears flying off of her face like rain.

"Maybe I don't want to," she sobbed, "I don't want to kill, I don't want to hurt anyone. I don't want to-to be like those people at the World Cup. I don't want to hurt people for fun. I don't."

'You disgusting, traitorous whore. You said you'd help him.'

"I need help," she whispered, "I can't-I can't become that, I need help!"

'Do you deserve help? Ask Colin if you do. Tell him the truth, and ask him if you need help. Tell your parents that you need help because you still love Tom.'

"I don't, I don't, I don't,"

'What happened in your dream last night? What did you say to him?'

"I-it was just-just a d-dream,"

'You can't stop thinking about him. You can't stop dreaming about him. You want him, you want to see him, you want to hear his voice for real.'

"Stop. Just st-stop. Stop!"

'Have you already forgotten last Christmas? What you said you'd do?'

"N-no, but I-I don't want to be a m-monster, I don't want to-to hurt people. I don't!"

'If helping Tom makes you a monster, you'll gladly do it.'

She shook her head, words failing her.

'Does it make you a monster to follow your heart? And you only ever need to hurt people who are fighting Tom. But you need to know that you can cast the spells first. Otherwise, you'll die. And you'll have done nothing of value to him.'

"I-st-st-stop! Just stop!"

'Dirty bitch. Dirty lying bitch. You said you'd do whatever you needed to help him.'

She scrabbled for her bag, reaching in and pulling out the gleaming knife.

She stared at it for a half-second, debating just plunging it into her throat and ending it all, giving herself peace.

'Dirty, lying, cowardly bitch. You said you'd help him, but you're simply too weak to do anything of the sort. Go on, then. Kill yourself. Do it, coward. Do it.'

She growled, pulling up her robes and slicing a deep, long cut across her thigh.

Relief flooded through her, the voice falling silent for a moment as the searing pain spread out from her leg.

Blood dripped out, falling onto the dusty floor.

She slashed again, digging the knife in deep and pulling it harshly through her flesh.

A hiss escaped through her gritted teeth.

Her fingers were all red now.

She felt a momentary mad urge to giggle, looking down at the torn skin on her leg.

Her cheek twitched as she prodded the cuts, blood seeping out like a mostly turned off tap.

"I'm not a coward," she said, "I'll do what I need to. Whatever I need to."

She did give a short giggle then, as she raised her wand and set to cleaning herself up.

"'Ginny, dear,' Tom wrote, 'I don't think you've ever told me what type of wand you have. Or maybe I never asked.'

She stared at his words until they began to fade, a small smile appearing as she ran her finger over where he'd called her dear.

'It's Yew with dragon heartstring,' she replied, 'eleven and a quarter inches.'

'That's fascinating. My own wand was Yew.'

'Really?'

'Really. A Yew wand is usually a sign of a powerful wizard or witch, you know. Especially when combined with the dragon heartstring.'

She felt her ears beginning to heat up.

'I'm sure we will be seeing plenty of wonders from you. Particularly in the areas of combative magic.'

'Do you really think so?' She asked, 'you're not just saying that?'

'Ginny, my sweetling. I would never lie to you. Nor would I offer false flattery.'

'But if I'm really a powerful witch, how come I haven't been doing so well in charms lately?'

'You have been complaining about being tired more often. I'm sure that is affecting your performance.'

'Maybe. I don't think I've been sleeping very well, even when I have been sleeping. Evelyn said I was sleepwalking again last night.'

'I'm sorry, love. I'm sure it will get better.'

'I hope so.'

'And try not to be too worried about your Charms. The more you practice, the easier you will find them. And I can tell you have enormous potential.'

Her blush deepened, her cheeks and neck feeling warm now.

'Thank you, Tom. You always know just how to cheer me up.'

'It's my pleasure. Now, you should try getting to bed. You've got the Halloween feast tomorrow, and I'm certain there will be much excitement.'

'Good night, Tom. I love you.'

She looked away hurriedly, almost too embarrassed to look at what she'd just written.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw words appearing on the page.

'Good night, Ginny. I love you too.'"

"Ow," Colin huffed, rubbing his chest with his face screwed up in a grimace, "Bloody hell, that really hurt."

"Sorry. It wasn't meant to be so strong. Here, let me try something."

She raised her wand, aiming right at where he seemed to be in pain.

"Episkey."

He squealed, jumping up before looking down at himself in astonishment.

"It's better," he said, "it doesn't hurt at all. Wow, Ginny. How did you do that?"

"Figured it was worth learning some basic healing spells," she said with a shrug.

"Definitely worth it. Definitely."

"Thanks."

For the next few minutes, they packed up in silence, setting the room back to how it usually looked.

"Ginny?"

"Yeah?"

"I-er-I uh-"

"What is it, Colin?" She asked, turning around to face him with exasperation rising.

He was looking down at his shuffling feet, his neck going red.

"I-can we do this less often?"

"Why?" She asked, her voice far colder than she'd have liked.

"It's just-Dennis is here now, and I'd want to hang out with him sometimes, and the only real chance we have is at nights. And with the new subjects, I've got all this extra work…"

He trailed off, his voice fading away under her gaze.

'You should have realized how utterly useless the Mudblood is.'

"I thought you liked this," she said, "I thought-"

"I do! It's just-I don't have enough spare time. And I-I'd like to carry on how we have, but I'm not doing too well in schoolwork, and Dennis keeps asking where I'm going."

She managed, by some force of will, to keep her face expressionless and her hand away from her wand.

'Stupid, useless Mudblood. Tom should have just killed him!'

"I thought, maybe we could try every two or three weeks," he continued, "If I can keep up to date with my homework, that should work. I just don't want to fail any of my classes, or ignore Dennis or anything like that."

'Fuck Dennis! I need this!'

"That should be fine," she said, "You need to put the more important things first. I get it. It makes sense"

"So you're...not upset?" He asked cautiously.

"Not at all."

'Oblivious Mudblood bastard!'

"Great," He said, smiling again.

"I wonder what the Durmstrang students will think of Hogwarts," Luna said. "How do you think they'll react?"

"I'm sure they'll find it nice," Ginny said absently, "why wouldn't they?"

"Well, Daddy says that Durmstrang is in a really terrible castle. He says that's why the Triwizard Tournament really stopped, because it was too embarrassing for them. And because of Beauxbatons."

"What did Beauxbatons do?"

"They're French," Luna said, as if that explained everything.

Ginny didn't respond, instead just continuing to stare out at the lake.

"Are you feeling alright?" Luna asked, "You seem very distracted."

'No,' she thought, 'I'm not alright.'

The problem was, that little Tomlike voice was right. Over the past month of term, she'd been able to successfully cast not only the Choking Curse, but also the Piercing Curse, a more powerful version of the Bone-Breaking Curse, and the Paralysis Curse.

And yet, she couldn't be completely confident that she was doing any of them right. She thought she was, but until she actually tested on something alive, she couldn't know for sure.

She'd tossed out the voice's suggestion that she "accidentally" try them on Colin, and she certainly wouldn't be testing anything as intense as those curses on herself.

Which left her in quite a quandary.

She didn't want to hurt anything, didn't want to take someone's pet and kill it. But if she didn't, she felt sure that she was going to go mad.

Toward the end of the previous year, she'd gotten much better with her cutting. She'd been able to avoid using the knife for well over a week at a time, at one point only needing it every two weeks or so.

Now, she was doing well if she only needed it once a day.

Everything she knew was telling her that listening to the voice would be a bad idea. Even so, a part of her still felt that it would be the right thing to do.

"What do you do," she asked, "if…if your heart is telling you one thing, but your mind is telling you another?"

"You listen to your heart, silly," Luna said, "although it only says thump, thump, thump. You know you don't actually think with your heart, right?"

"I know."

"Good. So you were speaking metaphorically."

"Yes, Luna," she sighed.

"Then you should listen to your feelings. Daddy says that your feelings are actually based on subconscious thoughts, so it's really listening to your mind anyway."

'Would she still have answered like that if she knew what I was really asking?'

'Of course not, idiot. She'd have run away before you even finished explaining your question.'

It was in the middle of the night at the end of the second week of October when she finally got her chance.

She had just come back from the library, having taken a long and slow walk back to Gryffindor Tower. What with all the cleaning and preparation for the incoming foreign students, Filch was far more active. She'd had to be much more careful than usual, both in the Restricted Section and on the way back.

When she closed the portrait hole behind her and turned around, a small, dark shape leapt across the room.

Her breath caught in her throat, terror filling her.

Until she heard the croaking noise the thing was making.

'Take it. It's the perfect chance.'

The Common Room was perfectly empty, except for her and what she thought was Neville's toad; even the two portraits were asleep.

She saw Trevor move again, and her wand was in her hand.

"Petrificus Totalus," she whispered.

Trevor stopped his jumping, falling flat onto the carpet.

'Take it and go. You have a free period after Defence tomorrow, you'll have plenty of time to test your spells on it.'

With trembling fingers and a racing heart, she picked up the toad.

True to her plan, the next day she made her way back into her room after Defence.

None of her roommates were around. Apparently, taking care of animals was enough of a socially accepted hobby for their families to approve of their subject choices.

She walked up the stairs to her room, her heart beginning to pound, a sickly nauseous feeling settling in her stomach.

'Am I really going to do this?'

'Of course you are. Unless you want to stay weak and useless forever.'

She closed the curtains around her bed, applying the silencing charm she'd been practising.

Her hands were shaking so severely that it took several tries before she actually managed to open her trunk.

And she pulled out Trevor the toad.

The Body-Bind was still active, keeping everything except the small amphibian's eyes still and unmoving.

She thought he looked scared.

'I can't do this, I can't, I can't, I can't.'

Her breath started coming in short gasps, everything around her except Trevor vanishing from her vision.

'I can't do this, I can't, I can't. Oh god, oh Merlin, I can't do this.'

'Take a deep breath.'

She did so, mindlessly obeying.

'Hold it.'

After nearly a minute, she released the breath in a huff.

'Now. Do it.'

She gripped Trevor tightly, raising her wand with the other hand.

"Finite!"

Immediately, the toad tried to escape her grasp, feebly kicking at her and letting out a strangely high pitched croak.

Her wand shook so much she could barely aim it. She pushed the tip forward until it was touching the toad's flabby, rough skin.

The thought of what she was about to do filled her mind, the sudden urge to abandon everything and grab the knife instead rising within her.

She felt the hatred then, a surge of simmering fire boiling in her belly.

'All of this is Potter's fault,' she thought, 'if he had just saved me early enough, I'd have been fine. I wouldn't have needed to do this. It's all his fault.'

Furious loathing pounded through her veins.

"Praefoco!"

The rope of her spell lunged out like it had ever since she had learned to actually cast it. But this time, it wrapped itself around a target.

She felt it working, felt the spell continuing for far longer than it ever had before.

The stupid toad let out a strangled choking noise, its eyes bulging and its mouth opening and closing uselessly.

'It's working,' she thought giddily, 'it's working!'

Slowly, the toad's struggling grew weaker, pausing for what felt like hours at a time only for it to kick again, until, as she watched with wide eyes, it gave a great shiver and stopped moving entirely.

Barely a second later, she felt the spell stop.

'Well done. Well done. Of course, you'll have to test it on a mammal, but this is good enough for now.'

Her eyelid began to twitch as she stared down at Trevor's limp form, horrified nausea replacing her feeling of triumph.

'What have I done? He was Neville's, I-I killed him! What have I done?'

She paused for a moment to grab the knife from her backpack before running to the bathroom, making it to the toilet an instant before she threw up.

She gently closed the book, a thick feeling of unreality washing over her again.

She'd been experiencing the strange, dreamlike sensation a lot over the last few days, ever since she'd murdered Neville's pet.

She'd be in the middle of doing something, and she'd remember what she'd done, how triumphant she'd felt about it.

If she hadn't practised the Freezing Spell before Professor Flitwick taught it to them, she'd have had serious issues in Charms the day before, where she'd sat, staring with unseeing eyes at the open book before her for nearly half an hour, while everyone else had been trying to get the spell right.

Luckily, she had practised it, so when Flitwick broke her from her reverie by asking to see her attempt, she'd managed it easily.

She'd even earned Gryffindor five points for that, meaningless as it all was. Someone sneezed a few rows of shelves over, in what she thought was the normal section of the library.

Very, very slowly, as quietly as she could, she stood up, putting the book back on the shelf and heading for the secret passageway out of there.

It was stupid to be in the Restricted Section in the daytime, she knew that. But she didn't really have any other better option. The Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students would be arriving in less than a week, and Filch and Mrs Norris were more active than she'd ever seen them before.

She'd almost gotten caught the night before, in fact, when she'd tried to sneak into the Restricted Section.

Luckily, she'd managed to escape Mrs Norris, but it had been a close call. It wasn't even just the Restricted Section that was getting harder for her to access, but even the empty classrooms she and Colin usually practised duelling in had been cleaned, the piles of dust and old graffiti removed.

During the day, she was much less likely to be questioned about where she was going. It was stupid to go to the Restricted Section in the day, but it would be even more stupid to go at night.

'I could just not go. Wait until the foreigners have settled in and everyone's less on edge.'

'And you would do nothing but stagnating during that time.'

Unless…

If she could get the spell she'd just read about to work and she did it on Mrs Norris, then maybe things would be a lot easier.

'Why only think about the cat? You could do it on her squib master.'

She shuddered, nausea flashing through her for a moment.

The spell in question, the Parerum Curse, had supposedly been a precursor to the Imperius, a less effective way of taking complete control of someone.

It was meant to be much easier to cast than the Imperius, but it did require the caster to have something from the body of the target; hair or nail clippings, blood or spit or the like.

And even though the target would have an easier time fighting it off than they would the Imperius, the book had still said that most people couldn't fight it at all.

She certainly couldn't imagine someone as useless as Filch breaking the spell's control, let alone his cat.

She shuddered again, her cheek beginning to twitch.

'At some point, you'll have to practice on something bigger than the stupid toad. And if you can use it to make your research go smoother, all the better.'

'And if I get caught, I'll be expelled for sure, and maybe even go to Azkaban.'

'So you practice first on the cat. It'll be easy enough to do. Just pet the damn thing and pull off a hair. That's all you need to do.'

She shook her head, tears filling her eyes.

'No. No. I'll get caught, Filch loves his cat more than anything. No.'

'Stay weak, then. Stay useless. And when you one day see Tom again and ask if you can help him, he'll say no.'

Her pace quickened, her legs taking her straight to the nearest bathroom even as she took her knapsack off her back and began pawing through it.

'Merlin, you're disgusting.'

She couldn't help but agree with the voice.

She put the quill down for a moment, rubbing at her eyes.

God, but she was exhausted. With the delegations from the other schools arriving in just another two days, her roommates had reached new levels of inanity, keeping her up until well after two with their stupid conversations.

Once they had finally shut up for long enough to let her fall asleep, her dreams had woken her up what felt like mere minutes later.

It'd been the same dream as always, with Tom kissing her amongst the corpses in the Great Hall.

For the first time since she'd started having the dream though, she hadn't woken up as soon as her and Tom's robes began to vanish.

No, last night she'd slept for a bit longer than usual, until… well, even thinking about it the next night, when she was sitting doing her homework in the Common Room, it was enough to make her blush.

She picked her quill up again, the sound of people writing and having soft conversations filling the Common Room.

"Hello? Um, has anyone seen my toad?"

Her quill fell from limp fingers, the blood rushing from her face as she looked up.

Neville was standing in front of the fireplace, his round face looking even more worried than usual.

"You know," he said, "Trevor. He disappeared about a week ago…"

No one said anything.

Turning her head back down to her parchment before she could meet Neville's eyes, she picked up her quill again.

It shook so badly that she could barely hold it.

"Sorry, Neville," Dean called, "Haven't seen him. But he's disappeared before, hasn't he?"

"Not nearly for this long."

Her hand spasmed, making her accidentally tear right through the parchment with the point of her quill.

That had sounded like real pain in Neville's voice. Anguish, almost.

"I'm just worried that-that he got onto the grounds. With those Skrewts around…"

He trailed off hopelessly, looking around the Common Room.

'He is in the grounds,' she thought, a mad laugh trying to tear its way free from her, 'I threw him in the lake.'

"If anyone sees him," Neville continued, "please let me know."

'I killed him, you weak bastard. Why couldn't you just have kept him in your room at night? Why did you have to let me do it?'

The Great Hall was deathly silent as Potter entered the same room the other champions had gone into.

Ron was still holding his goblet in the air, looking like someone had punched him in the gut.

Dumbledore was making some announcement, but she didn't care enough to listen.

She just stared at Ron's expression, a savage joy heating up her belly.

'Now you see what he's like,' she wanted to shout, 'now you see what an interfering glory hound he is!'

She cocked her head up, going perfectly still as she tried to listen.

After a second, she heard them again.

Footsteps, and coming toward her.

'Oh no, oh bloody fucking hell, oh no, oh no.'

She slid out of her chair, careful not to put too much weight on it and make it slide across the floor, trying to avoid the rising panic in the back of her mind.

The footsteps grew louder and she began to back away, realizing only when she was nearly at the end of the row of shelves that she'd left her bag next to the table.

And she'd left the book open on the table.

As she'd made up her mind to grab her bag and run for it, someone turned the corner.

She stared at him for a moment, a pure pocket of calm opening within the panic overwhelming her mind.

She was pretty sure he was the seventh year Slytherin that Ron once said used to be Slytherin's Seeker, someone Higgs.

He was easily two heads taller than her, and he had his wand in his hand and a shiny prefect's badge on his robes.

"Weasley, right?" He asked, a genial smile spreading across his face, "can I see your Pass, please?"

'Oh no, I'm done, I'm done, oh fuck!'

"I-I gave it to M-Madam Pince."

His expression didn't change in the least, but it suddenly looked far less friendly.

"No you didn't," he said, "if you have a pass for a specific book, you give that to Madam Pince and she gets the book for you. If you have a pass to browse the Restricted Section yourself, like you're apparently doing, you keep it. And you show it to anyone who asks."

He took a step forward, looking down at the book she'd stupidly left open.

"Wow. A Weasley reading this. I hope you're good at doing things without magic."

She could barely hear her own whisper over the sound of her heart.

"Wh-why?"

"Well, especially if the rumours about that whole Chamber of Secrets thing are true, you're going to be expelled. They'll snap your wand and everything."

He shook his head in mock sadness, his smile growing.

'No, no, I can't, they'll all know, they'll hate me, no, no, I need to stop this.'

"Such a pity," he said, picking up the book and turning away from her.

He was halfway to the end of the row when she found her voice.

"Wait," she cried, the word coming out in a hoarse croak, "Don't!"

He stopped walking, his back still toward her.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Please," she whispered, "please don't, I can't-"

"What's in it for me?"

She stared at his back, her mouth dry.

"Please. I'll-I'll do anything. Just don't turn me in."

He turned to face her, the candlelight casting strange shadows upon his face, making his smile wolfish and predatory.

"Anything?"

She nodded frantically, the panic beginning to slowly die down.

"Anything. Anything, just-"

"Anything," he repeated, "Well, I think I can work with that."