Silence and a Crackle of Lightning
Harry's P.O.V.
When the bell rang to signal the start of afternoon lessons, Ron and I set off for North Tower where, at the top of a tightly spiraling staircase, a silver stepladder led to a circular trapdoor in the ceiling and the room where Professor Trelawney lived.
The familiar sweet perfume spreading from the fire met my nostrils as we emerged at the top of the stepladder. As ever, the curtains were all closed; the circular room was bathed in a dim reddish light cast by the many lamps, which were all draped with scarves and shawls. Ron and I walked through the mass of occupied chintz chairs and poufs that cluttered the room and sat down at the same small circular table.
"Good day," said the misty voice of Professor Trelawney right behind me, making me jump. Gods, she was creepy.
The very thin, familiar woman with enormous glasses that made her eyes appear far too large for her face, Professor Trelawney was peering down at me with the tragic expression she always wore whenever she saw me. The usual large amount of beads, chains, and bangles glittered upon her person in the firelight.
"You are preoccupied, my dear," she told me, mournfully. "My inner eye sees past your brave face to the troubled soul within. And I regret to say that your worries are not baseless. I see difficult times ahead for you, alas... most difficult... I fear the thing you dread will indeed come to pass... and perhaps sooner than you think..."
Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. Ron rolled his eyes at me, as I stonily looked back at him. Professor Trelawney swept past us and seated herself in a large winged armchair before the fire, facing the class. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who deeply admired Professor Trelawney, were sitting on poufs very close to her.
"My dears, it is time for us to consider the stars," she said. "The movements of the planets and the mysterious portents they reveal only to those who understand the steps of the celestial dance. Human destiny may be deciphered by the planetary rays, which intermingle..."
But my thoughts had drifted. The perfumed fire always made me feel sleepy and dull-witted, and Professor Trelawney's rambling talks on fortune-telling never held me exactly spellbound— though I couldn't help thinking about what she had just said to me. The thing you dread will indeed come to pass...
But Hermione and Delilah were right; Professor Trelawney really was an old fraud. I wasn't dreading anything at the moment at all... well, unless my fears that Sirius had been caught counted… or the fact that that stupid Hufflepuff asked Delilah out and she unknowingly said yes... but what did Professor Trelawney know? I had long since come to the conclusion that her brand of fortune-telling was really no more than lucky guesswork and a spooky manner.
Except, of course, for that time at the end of last term, when she had made the prediction about Voldemort rising again... and Dumbledore himself had said that he thought that trance had been genuine when I had described it to him.
"Harry!" Ron muttered.
"What?"
I looked around; the whole class was staring at me. Great. I sat up straight; I had been almost dozing off, lost in the heat and my thoughts.
"I was saying, my dear, that you were clearly born under the baleful influence of Saturn," said Professor Trelawney, a faint note of resentment in her voice at the fact that I had obviously not been hanging on her words.
"Born under— what, sorry?" I mumbled, confused.
"Saturn, dear, the planet Saturn!" said Professor Trelawney, sounding definitely irritated. "I was saying that Saturn was surely in a position of power in the heavens at the moment of your birth... Your dark hair... your mean stature... tragic losses so young in life... I think I am right in saying, my dear, that you were born in midwinter?"
"No," I nearly snorted as I replied drily, "I was born in July."
Ron hastily turned his laugh into a hacking cough.
Half an hour later, each of us had been given a complicated circular chart and were attempting to fill in the position of the planets at our moment of birth. It was dull work, requiring much consultation of timetables and calculation of angles.
"I've got two Neptunes here," I said after a while, frowning down at my piece of parchment, "that can't be right, can it?"
"Aaaaah," said Ron, imitating Professor Trelawney's mystical whisper, "when two Neptunes appear in the sky, it is a sure sign that a midget in glasses is being born, Harry..."
Seamus and Dean, who were working nearby, sniggered loudly, though not loudly enough to mask the excited squeals from Lavender— "Oh Professor, look! I think I've got an unaspected planet!"— What the hell is unaspected?— "Oooh, which one's that, Professor?"
"It is Uranus, my dear," said Professor Trelawney, peering down at the chart.
"Can I have a look at Uranus too, Lavender?" said Ron.
Most unfortunately, Professor Trelawney heard him, and it was this, perhaps, that made her give us all so much homework at the end of the class.
"A detailed analysis of the way the planetary movements in the coming month will affect you, with reference to your personal chart," she snapped, sounding much more like Professor McGonagall than her usual airy-fairy self. "I want it ready to hand in next Monday, and no excuses!"
"Miserable old bat," said Ron bitterly as we later joined the crowds descending the staircases back to the Great Hall and dinner. "That'll take all weekend, that will..."
"Lots of homework?" said Hermione brightly, as she and Delilah caught up with us.
"Professor Vector didn't give us any at all," Delilah chimed in, contentedly.
"Well, bully for Professor Vector," said Ron moodily.
We reached the entrance hall, which was packed with people queuing for dinner. We had just joined the end of the line when a loud voice rang out behind us.
"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"
The four of us turned to see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle standing there, each looking thoroughly pleased about something.
"What?" said Ron shortly.
"Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" said Malfoy, brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet and speaking very loudly, so that everyone in the packed entrance hall could hear. "Listen to this!
FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC
It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."
Malfoy looked up. "Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?" he crowed.
Everyone in the entrance hall was listening now. Malfoy straightened the paper with a flourish and read on:
Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene.
"And there's a picture, Weasley!" said Malfoy, flipping the paper over and holding it up. "A picture of your parents outside their house— if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"
Ron was shaking with fury. Everyone was staring at him.
"Get stuffed, Malfoy," I said. "C'mon, Ron..."
"Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" sneered Malfoy. "So, tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"
"You know your mother, Malfoy?" I said, momentarily glancing to the side upon noticing Delilah's hand snapping forward and effortlessly taking a hold of the back of Ron's robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy; "that expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?"
Malfoy's pale face went slightly pink. "Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter."
"Keep your fat mouth shut, then," I snarled, turning away.
"Draco," I heard Delilah say suddenly, a warning seemingly darkening her tone. "Don't you even think about it."
Before I could turn back to see what she was going on about—
BANG!
Several people screamed as I felt something white-hot graze the side of my face, immediately reacting by plunging my hand into my robes for my wand, but before I'd even touched it, I heard a second loud BANG, and a roar that echoed through the entrance hall.
"OH, NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"
I spun around and blinked thrice, stunned at the sight unfolding before me; Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out, and it was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor, exactly where Malfoy had been standing. There was a terrified silence in the entrance hall. Nobody but Moody was moving a muscle. Moody turned to look at me— at least, his normal eye was looking at me; the other one was pointing into the back of his head.
"Did he get you?" Moody growled. His voice was low and gravelly.
"No," I said quickly, fervently shaking my head, "missed."
"LEAVE IT!" Moody shouted.
"Leave— what?" I croaked, bewildered.
"Not you— him!" Moody growled, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Crabbe, who had just frozen, about to pick up the white ferret. It seemed that Moody's rolling eye was magical and could see out of the back of his head.
"Oh, that is nasty," I heard Delilah grunt from where she stood behind Ron, still holding the back of his robes, though he had long stopped struggling against her grip.
Moody started to limp toward Crabbe, Goyle, and the ferret, which gave a terrified squeak and took off, streaking toward the dungeons.
"I don't think so!" roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again— it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more. "I don't like people who attack when their opponent's backs are turned," growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do..."
The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly. "Never— do— that— again—" said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.
"Professor Moody!" said a shocked voice. Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble staircase with her arms full of books.
"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.
"What— what are you doing?" said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret's progress through the air.
"Teaching," said Moody.
"Teach— Moody, is that a student?" shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.
"Yep," said Moody.
"No!" cried Professor McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing.
"Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!" said Professor McGonagall. "Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?"
"He might've mentioned it, yeah," said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, "but I thought a good sharp shock—"
"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!"
"I'll do that, then," said Moody, staring at Malfoy with great dislike.
Malfoy, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain and humiliation, looked malevolently up at Moody and muttered something in which the words "my father" were distinguishable.
"Oh yeah?" said Moody quietly, limping forward a few steps, the dull clunk of his wooden leg echoing around the hall. "Well, I know your father of old, boy... You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son... you tell him that from me... Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?"
"Yes," said Malfoy resentfully.
"Another old friend," growled Moody. "I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape… Come on, you..."
And he seized Malfoy's upper arm and marched him off toward the dungeons. Professor McGonagall stared anxiously after them for a few moments, then waved her wand at her fallen books, causing them to soar up into the air and back into her arms.
"You lot should keep him on a tighter leash," Delilah said, catching Professor McGonagall's attention. The woman gave our friend a deadpanned look that mirrored Delilah's voice before marching away. As she did, Delilah then snorted as the four of us began to make our way down the Great Hall, trying to find a place to sit. "Ironic coming from me, ain't it?"
"Don't talk to me," Ron said quietly to us as we finally sat down at the Gryffindor table a few minutes later, surrounded by excited talk on all sides about what had just happened, Hermione settling down beside him across from Delilah, who sat down beside me.
"Why not?" said Hermione in surprise.
"Because I want to fix that in my memory forever," said Ron, his eyes closed and an uplifted expression on his face. "Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret."
The lot of us laughed, and Hermione began doling beef casserole onto each of their plates.
"He could have really hurt Malfoy, though," she said. "It was good, really, that Professor McGonagall stopped it—"
"Hermione!" said Ron furiously, his eyes snapping open again, "you're ruining the best moment of my life!"
Hermione made an impatient noise and began to eat at top speed again.
"Don't tell me you're going back to the library this evening?" I said, watching her.
"Got to," said Hermione thickly. "Loads to do."
"But you told us Professor Vector—"
"It's not schoolwork," Delilah said, cutting me off.
Suddenly, my face was forcefully pulled to my right and I found myself staring into Delilah's violet orchidee, silver-specked eyes, feeling my breath getting caught up in my throat.
Gods, her eyes are so deep...
I stared at her, mouth agape probably making myself look like an idiot as she carefully tilted my head from side to side, looking to see if I was perhaps injured in any way. I suddenly heard a snort from across the table— undoubtedly Ron laughing at my stupor— snapping me out of my transfixed gaze.
Gods, I really got to get a hold of myself...
Gently taking a hold of her wrists, I stopped her thorough motions, giving her a small smile. "I'm fine, Dels."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but her hands relaxed upon my jaw. "Are you sure?"
"I am certain," I reassured her, reluctantly pulling her hands from my face.
Lips pursed, she looked at me a moment longer, before letting go of my face. "Fine..."
It was momentarily quiet between the four of us as we ate, and I soon found myself mildly surprised when, within the next five minutes, Hermione had cleared her plate and dragged a whining Delilah away once again. No sooner had they gone than Hermione's seat was taken by Fred Weasley.
"Moody!" he said. "How cool is he?"
"Beyond cool," said George, sitting down opposite Fred, to my right.
"Supercool," said the twins' best friend, Lee Jordan, sliding into the seat beside George. "We had him this afternoon," he told Ron and I.
"What was it like?" I asked eagerly.
Fred, George, and Lee exchanged looks full of meaning. "Never had a lesson like it," said Fred.
"He knows, man," said Lee.
"Knows what?" said Ron, leaning forward.
"Knows what it's like to be out there doing it," said George, clearly impressed.
"Doing what?" I asked.
"What do you think?" the twins and their best mate retorted in unison.
"Fighting the Dark Arts," Fred then said.
"He's seen it all," George followed right after.
"'mazing," Lee agreed.
Ron dived into his bag for his schedule. "We haven't got him till Thursday!" he said in a disappointed voice.
Seth's P.O.V.
"What's all the fuzz about?" I asked upon hearing Ron's disappointed voice as Will and I approached my sister's friends. With no hesitation, I took the empty seat on Harry's left, Will occupying my left.
"Ron's complaining about how we haven't got Moody till Thursday," Harry replied.
"Oh… that guy…" I muttered uneasily as I began to serve myself some food.
"I heard he's the best we've gotten at Hogwarts so far… well, other than Lupin," Will chimed in. "Seth doesn't really think so, though."
Ron scoffed. "And to think I only thought you looked like your sister. Now you seem just like her."
I rolled my eyes at the redhead, as I munched on a spoonful of my Panzanella salad. "It's not as simple as you put it, Will. I don't hate the man, but… he just oozes this darkness that I'd never felt around him before."
"Wait, you've met 'im before?" Ron asked surprised.
I nodded, taking a sip of my drink before grimacing; who in the hell served me pumpkin juice?! I started coughing and stuffing my mouth with more salad to take the wretched taste off my tongue. How does Dels manage to drink this crap?
"… are you sick too?"
I froze upon hearing those words. What? I looked up and found both Ron and Harry staring oddly down at me. "What?" I voiced my confusion.
"Delilah's been coughing a whole lot and looking pretty off as of late," Ron elaborated.
"I noticed that too," Harry agreed. "But I was slightly afraid of asking her; you've seen how ticked off she'd get about the littlest things as of late."
"It's how she is," I was quick to defend my sister, my voice hard and stern. "She doesn't like it when people worry about her. I guess that's what happens when you're just used to people not giving a damn."
Seemingly noticing my sudden apprehensiveness towards my sister's best friends, Will quickly tugged on my robe. "C'mon, Seth, we should get going. You know how creepily nice Professor Sprout gets when someone's late."
Professor Sprout was a special person. Then again, everyone here was so too, but she tended to get this overly creepy smile whenever she was clearly upset or even angry. That creepy smile tended to lead to either having detention with Snape, or detention in the Herbology Greenhouses, cleaning the crap out of them.
Frankly, I would rather have detention with Snape— the guy has it out for me, but because of who my sister is and, well, I guess, who she looks like…; he takes it a bit easier on me and my closest friends.
Leaving space for the next Gryffindors to eat, Will and I left the Great Hall in a haste, bodies tensed with anticipation; our class was usually during the morning, though we were told we'd be dealing with plants which's growth only follows a nightly procedure, so today's class was moved to be one hour long after dinner.
As we rushed down the halls, I realized I was somewhat hyperaware of the people walking around me. I felt a little dizzy, a feeling I'm not too unfamiliar with. I'd felt this way for a while now, but I'd been so hyped about having Deli over with us for the summer, that I had completely forgotten all about it and just numbed it out.
When we entered the assigned Greenhouse for today, I scrunched my nose instantly as an odd smell reached my nostrils.
"I never know what it's going to smell like in Greenhouse Three," I muttered, slightly uncomfortable from the rather foul stench that disturbed my strong sense of smell. Stupid enhanced sense of smell!
"Hey," a fellow Hufflepuff classmate greeted us with a smile. His name was Joseph too— Joseph Buer, but since everyone called me Seth, everyone called him Joe. "Don't forget your dragonhide gloves," he reminded us. "Heard the plants we're handling today have teeth!"
"Teeth?" Will wondered, eyes widening as he turned to me. "Do you think we'll be handling mandrakes again?"
I furrowed my brows and scrunched my nose again; it didn't smell like mandrakes in here, but one can never be too sure, especially with the teacher leading this class. "I don't think so, and by Gods, I hope not."
Will shrugged, nodding in agreement. "Thanks for the warning, Joe."
The boy smiled back at us. "No problem!" he replied before Will and I continued along the Greenhouse, seeking a spot for us to work together as per usual.
"Mister Dawn," Professor greeted me with a smile, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. "It's great to see you're finally on time. You as well, Mister Eberhardt."
Both of us smiled sheepishly at her. "Hello, Professor, how was your summer?" I tried, hoping she would start us off easy this year; we hadn't been so lucky last year.
She smiled kindly at me. "How thoughtful of you to ask! Your sister is always the same way," she said brightly. "My summer was splendid. I conducted several experiments on the composition of Dragon Dung Fertiliser."
I blinked. "Composition?" Will asked, voicing my very startled thought; this woman was startling.
"Yes! The quantity and quality of Dragon dung in the fertilizer has a tremendous impact on a plant's growth."
"How fascinating!" I scrunched my nose at Will's words; I hate when he's genuinely fascinated about considerably disgusting things. "I would love to examine the results of your test." Oh, someone hang him now.
"Of course!" the woman exclaimed herself happily. "Students rarely show the proper enthusiasm for Dragon dung. Ten points to Gryffindor!"
I blinked, then nodded my head, content. Okay, now we're talkin'.
She smiled again and motioned us toward the tables. "Find your place, now. It's time for today's lesson."
Pulling on his sleeve, I threw Professor Sprout one last smile before dragging Will to the tables. I instantly took notice of the closest empty space left for us beside a familiar, petite redhead and made my way over.
Before I could speak or rather blurt out the first word that would come to mind, I found myself staring into a pair of deep brown orbs I found oddly enthralling. They seemed like the darkest, yet warmest depths I'd ever stared into, and I swear upon my gods I all but felt numerous souls escaping my very being; I couldn't even bother to wonder how many soul animals I might get later on based on that particular feeling.
My heart was erratic, and my mind was fuzzy, and there was an odd, fluttering feeling in my stomach I'd never felt before as I felt a sudden warmth spreading within me.
"Seth!" I snapped out of my daze upon hearing Will call out my name and found that the twin ponds of hot chocolate belonged to the very petite redhead I'd been making my way toward.
What had just happened?
It took me a moment longer to realize I was still staring at her; her face had become flushed to her roots, her pale skin nearly as red as her hair!
"I… I…" What in Tartarus? Why can't I talk? "S-sorry!"
She almost looked like a startled deer caught in headlights at the mere sound of my voice, instantly making me feel bad.
"Do you mind if we use this space beside you, Ginny?" Will asked.
"What he said!" I uttered, unable to take my eyes away from the petite redhead.
"Sure!" she squeaked, moving a tad bit aside to leave us more space to work on.
Forcefully tearing my gaze away, I tried my hardest to focus on Professor Sprout's instructions, but repeatedly found my gaze falling back to the redhead standing beside me; I could practically feel her trembling, though I could not say why as I myself was still lost in a bit of a haze.
"… grow Valerian Sprigs. The roots of this magical plant can be used in many potions…"
Glancing to my left once again, I could not help but think back at how deep her dark eyes were. Made me think of chocolate… I really just… don't you just love chocolate? Who doesn't? It's just so—
"Seth!" I jumped, startled upon hearing Will hiss my name.
"Whazzup?" was my instinctive, slightly incoherent response, which was merely rewarded by an eyeroll from my best friend.
"Have you all been listening?" Professor Sprout asked the class after a while. "Let's see if you know the answer to the following question; which of the following potions does not contain Valerian Sprigs? Polyjuice Potion, Forgetfulness Potion, or Sleeping Draught?"
I'm ashamed to reveal I was completely ignoring the whole class; had it not been for Delilah all but forcing Will and I to study during our free time this summer, I probably wouldn't have known the answer to that, or any question for that matter, from how clearly distracted I was.
"Polyjuice Potion," I uttered.
"That is precisely correct, Mister Dawn; ten points to Gryffindor." Professor Sprout giggled; it was an eerily strange sound coming from her. "At least someone was listening."
I really wasn't.
Before long, she demonstrated how to grow the plant and had us all do it; frankly, had I not learned this in advance, I would've failed this in-class assignment from how distracted I was. I was surprised when the class was suddenly, finally over, though I felt a tad bit upset for some reason when I attempted to speak to the little redheaded Weasley, but found her already gone, all but running out of the Greenhouse. Ouch.
After our class, Will and I were meant to hang out with some of our friends from Ravenclaw, but I decided to skip out on our meet-up as I couldn't wait any longer; whatever I'd felt back at the Greenhouse… I need to know what in Tartarus that was. Skipping out our planned gathering upon feeling odd— deprived and utterly empty all of a sudden— I made my way back toward the Gryffindor Tower. On my way, I'd bumped into Professor Burbage from my Muggle Studies Class; thankfully, she didn't stall me much and sent me on my way upon thinking I had a really bad fever.
Thank the gods for my enhanced body temperature.
After crawling my way through the crawl-space behind the Fat Lady's portrait, I found my sister sitting by the fireplace in the Common Room. Now, I admit I started to selfishly ramble on to her, unable to keep this confusion within me any longer; I needed to understand what the hell was going with me back then.
It wasn't until I was mid-rant that I noticed how non-responsive she was to my mere presence. Furrowing my brows as I took a closer look, I noticed she was even paler than I'd last seen her. Her eyes seemed darker and her gaze a bit more distant than what I'd seen it become at times over the summer. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she were either in shock or had gone back to being mute— actually, I don't know any better.
What the heck is wrong with my sister?
Hermione's P.O.V.
"Accio pillow!"
I stared at the square-shaped cushion lying crookedly on the sofa beside a motionless Delilah, who lay sprawled upon it, parchments filled with solved, complex equations scattered messily around her sleeping figure. Blaze— her phoenix— sat on the desk beside my school material, looking utterly bored… if a bird can actually look it.
I stood tense by the table, hair all over the place as I just couldn't seem to understand why the spell wasn't working. Yes, we'd just learned it this morning in class, but I'd studied it over the summer. Of course, there was the downside that I generally couldn't use magic outside the school, so I couldn't physically practice it, but I had it all down! What gives?!
I huffed as yet another strand of my frizzy hair fell over my eyes; Harry and Ron were sure lucky they weren't here, otherwise I would've exploded on them long ago from how irritable I had become. I momentarily glanced toward Delilah once more as I resisted the urge to wake her; she'd gotten it right on her first try… Then again she was a Wiccan practitioner; wielding that sort of complex magic facilitated all others. I'd wake her to ask what it is I'm doing wrong, though I'm quite certain I'm following everything quite thoroughly; besides, she needs the sleep.
"You are proceeding incorrectly with the casting of the spell."
I jumped slightly, startled at the sudden, seemingly disembodied voice.
"Who said that? Who's there?"
"Your conscience," the voice deadpanned. "Who do you think?"
I blinked, then glanced over at the only other being in the room that was as wide awake as I was. "… Blaze?" I tried tentatively, wondering whether I'd really just gone completely bonkers.
"Yes, child."
I jumped again, this time in shock, taken a step back. "You can talk?!"
"I can squawk," the phoenix retorted boredly.
My surprise instantly dissipated as my eyes narrowed into a glare directed at the oddly sassy, colorful phoenix. "Oi! What's with the sass?" I demanded. "And what do you mean I'm doing it wrong?! I've practiced it countless of—"
"But you've never actually performed it physically, have you?"
My mouth snapped shut at the truth in the creature's words.
"There is no particular posture needed to better the casting of the spell, so just relax yourself."
I deflated, my shoulders I tried hard to keep back to keep my head held high slouching instantly. I then frowned when I suddenly felt an unfamiliar weight on my head, blinking in surprise upon glancing upward to find the bird nestled ever so comfortably atop my frizzy hair.
"Relax yourself, child," she repeated, her voice suddenly resounding undeniably soothing; in result, I felt my insides practically loosen from their knots as I subconsciously let myself relax as told. "Close your eyes and clear your mind; you must be able to envision what you wish you summon. Try something a little more specific, as well, rather than just 'cushion,' child. Give yourself a bit of a challenge; you know that's when you're at your best."
Wide-eyed, I watched as Blazealbumera rose from my head and swiftly made her way back to the desk.
It— she was right; I am only ever best when I challenge myself. That was how I always managed to exceed what's expected here at Hogwarts. I loved hanging around Delilah, not only because she was technically my first friend, but also because for someone as young as us, she was truly brilliant. Of course, she'd had her own reasons to push herself into furthering her knowledge, but ever since we'd become friends, she always set challenges for me.
Memory or no memory, she'd always been there to encourage me since we'd met— taking courses with me and going so far as confiding things that would exceed any knowledge of any other witch or wizard. Knowing how powerful she truly is— knowing who she is… I've just always dreamt of standing beside her as an equal rather than the mere Muggleborn witch the world would undoubtedly see me as. Whatever gods exist… I am truly thankful for how gracious they've been in gifting me with such a good friend. She's taught me to wear my identity, to wear like a brand. To not let it be what defines me, but to be what defines it.
She's done such by being the very definition of an alpha.
And Harry… he, too, surely knows how to be the very definition of a chosen hero. Wearing his fear on his sleeve and turning it into a sacred weapon… always, too, putting others before himself in spite of believing himself selfish.
I'm glad we're friends.
Ron… though he can be daft, he's not… entirely the weirdo I once thought him to be when we'd first met. I don't know what his talents are other than spontaneity. He really has a habit of surprising me. Yes, we argue a lot, even reached many points in time where we despised each other nearly as much as we despise Malfoy. But at the end of the day, I can't help but recall how, in spite of all the bumps we've run over down the road… he's always been loyal.
I'm surprised he's not a Hufflepuff instead. Then again, he's shown on many occasions the courage of a true Gryffindor— when he'd saved me from that troll in our first year, alongside Harry and Delilah. Granted, it was his fault I was even stuck there in the first place…
But then he sacrificed himself for us on that awful, large chess game we'd had to play beneath the trap door. Granted, he did just walk onto that stupid board and blabbered about replacing the pieces rather than just walked around it and magically opened the damned door, as we could've done in the first place.
Honestly— and he called me out for instinctively looking for wood. I'm a Muggleborn, what'd he expect?
Borderline, Ron is much more daring and courageous than I usually give him credit for, and quite frankly… I'm glad he and I are friends too.
It's being close to these three that pushes me to be better. Delilah is the physical brawn, though she is intellectually very brilliant. Harry is the natural wizard, and Ron is quite surprisingly clever and quicker on his two feet than I could ever hope to be. They protect me all the time, and all I can seem to offer is my knowledge I try to expand as much as I can because I, too, wish to be brilliant.
I, too, wish to stand beside the chosen protector, the chosen hero, and the loyal knight. I want to be more than just a court herbalist— and… now I have no idea why I'm using Middle Age terminology.
I took a deep breath and relaxed my gradually tensing shoulders; I accept this challenge. I must prove myself.
With my mind now clear and a vivid image forming beneath my eyelids, I felt the corner of my lips curl upward a tad bit before I chanted the charm I'd been practicing for the past hour, flicking my wand about in the respective wave for the spell.
My eyes snapped open and I found myself blinking owlishly when I suddenly heard a great lot of things crashing in the floor above.
It took me a long moment to realize I'd finally succeeded in casting the summoning charm when I'd suddenly felt a somewhat familiar weight hit me in the chest, tackling me to the ground.
It took me a moment longer to realize I hadn't actually said the incantation aloud.
And yet… it worked.
Merely a second later, I pushed myself on my elbows, glancing up curiously when I'd suddenly heard a gasp; Delilah had just awoken, seemingly startled out of her long-needed slumber, and I felt slightly a bit more concerned upon seeing how pale she'd gotten, her breathing so labored it came out in quick pants.
Putting her family book aside— it's a curious thing, and I'm a curious person, so don't judge my summoning— I stood cautiously and slowly approached, softly calling out to her as to not startle her further.
"Deli? Delilah?"
Suddenly, her brother all but burst in, and instantly got comfortable beside her, settling on the sofa beside her, rambling on about brutal heart palpitations and extensive heat overcoming his body or something. I truly was not paying attention to what he was saying as my worry grew at how eerily silent Delilah was being. By all and any god, I truly hoped she wouldn't revert.
Seeming to finally notice my presence in the Common Room, he asked me rather demandingly, "What in seven hells is the matter with her?"
Sometimes he really sounds like a little brat. And what on earth is—
"'Seven hells'?" I asked, puzzled.
Giving me a sheepish look, the boy shrugged. "I don't know, I heard this old guy say it the other day at a café back in London. He was muttering something about a mother of dragons and something about a Khaleesay or something being the perfect word for… something. Can't remember, can't really find it in myself to care any further either— what's wrong with my sister? Why isn't she answering me? Why isn't she snapping? Why isn't she telling me to shut up? Why isn't she reacting? Why isn't she—"
"Shut up!" I hissed, slapping my hand against his mouth to keep him from saying anything else; my God, I'd never expected such an adorable boy to be so annoying.
"Sorry," he uttered, the word muffled by my hand.
Pulling away from Seth, I turned back to Delilah. Though her face was blank and empty of any emotion, I noticed there was a look I recognized all too well, glittering in her dulled, darkened eyes.
It was the look of fear.
I watched worriedly as she took hold of her family's book and held it tightly to her chest.
"Delilah…" I called out to her again, more softly.
She finally looked at me and stared for a moment before flicking her wrist, a small cloud appearing in the air, spelling out a few words.
I am fine, do not worry about me.
I sighed. But she wasn't really, now, was she? She'd gone back to her mute, and ridiculously formal-self in the blink of an eye, and there was no way for any of us to know how or why.
Do not fault yourself over it, she spelled out again. It's quite simple, really; I have trust issues. You should know that by now.
… this is bad.
The next few days passed without great incident. Seth's and my attempts to get Delilah to talk had remained with no progress whatsoever as she had completely reverted to how she'd been when Harry, Ron and I had met her years ago. She'd brought out her little white board and black marker, and it was thus she communicated with anyone who was not aware of her projectile telepathy.
What was slightly bothersome was how emotionless she'd become anew, and yet she had somehow also become overly affectionate toward those of us she was closest too. She would often grab one sitting closest to her, in most cases being either Seth, Ginny or myself, and she would either tatter with our hair, or embrace us absentmindedly. On top of that, she hasn't exactly been paying as much attention to her superhuman strength as she used to; the other day, she nearly hugged the breath out of Ginny.
Her muteness was not exactly something gone unnoticed by anyone, mostly due to the fact that her annoyed quicks, smart-mouthed comments, and irritable nicknames had not once been spoken. It was to the point where even Professor Snape had noticed the sudden lack of communication, though he covered his concern oddly well enough behind the new levels of vindictiveness he seemed to have attained over the summer.
Ronald, obviously, always had to point these little things.
"Why's Deli not talking anymore?" he'd whined. "There's no way I can concentrate in class now, without her quips and entertaining comments!" Honestly, Ronald… "And what the bloody hell is up with Snape? D'you know why he's in such foul mood?"
"Yeah," said Harry. "Moody."
It was common knowledge that Snape really wanted the Dark Arts job, and he had now failed to get it for the fourth year running. Snape had disliked all of their previous Dark Arts teachers and shown it but he seemed strangely wary of displaying overt animosity to Mad-Eye Moody. Indeed, whenever they'd be seen together— at mealtimes, or when they passed in the corridors— one could easily get a distinct impression that Snape was avoiding Professor Moody's eye, whether magical or normal.
"I reckon Snape's a bit scared of him, you know," Harry said thoughtfully.
"Imagine if Moody turned Snape into a horned toad," said Ron, his eyes misting over, "and bounced him all around his dungeon..."
All fourth years in our house were looking forward to Professor Moody's first lesson so much that, much like I usually do, they arrived early on Thursday lunchtime, and queued up outside his classroom before the bell had even rung. Unlike I usually do, though, I merely turned up just in time for the lesson and was greeted by the odd sight of Delilah clinging to Ron's arm; odd indeed, she usually clung to Harry the way her brother clung to her.
"Been in the—"
"Library." Harry finished my sentence. "C'mon, quick, or we won't get decent seats."
We hurried into four chairs right in front of the teacher's desk, took out our copies of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, and waited, unusually quiet. Soon we heard Professor Moody's distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as ever. His clawed, wooden foot was visible, protruding from underneath his robes.
"You can put those away," he growled, stomping over to his desk and sitting down, "those books. You won't need them."
We returned the books to our bags, Ron looking excited, much to my own irritation.
Professor Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled gray hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swiveled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered.
"Right then," he said, when the last person had declared themselves present, "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures— you've covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?"
There was a general murmur of assent.
"But you're behind— very behind— on dealing with curses," said Professor Moody. "So, I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark—"
"What, aren't you staying?" Ron blurted out.
Professor Moody's magical eye spun around to stare at Ron; Ron looked extremely apprehensive, but after a moment he smiled— the first time anyone, I believe, had seen the man do so. The effect only made his heavily scarred face look more twisted and contorted than ever, but it was nevertheless good to know that he ever did anything as friendly as smile. From the shudder Delilah emitted from where she sat beside me, I had a feeling she thought otherwise; Ron, on the other hand, blind as ever, looked deeply relieved.
"You'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh?" Professor Moody said. "Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago... Yeah, I'm staying just the one year. Special favor to Dumbledore... One year, and then back to my quiet retirement."
He gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled hands together.
"So— straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you counter-curses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking."
Lavender jumped and blushed. She had been showing Parvati her completed horoscope under the desk. Apparently, Professor Moody's magical eye could see through solid wood, as well as out of the back of his head. That's rather fascinating… disgusting, but fascinating.
"So... do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"
Several hands rose tentatively into the air, including mine, and, to my surprise, Ron's. Professor Moody pointed at Ron, though his magical eye was still fixed on Lavender.
"Er," said Ron tentatively, "my dad told me about one… Is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?"
"Ah, yes," the professor replied appreciatively. "Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse."
Professor Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it. I could feel Ron recoil slightly next to him, sat between Harry and myself— heard he hated spiders.
Professor Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered, "Imperio!"
The spider leapt from Professor Moody's hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a back flip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Professor Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance.
Everyone was laughing— everyone except Professor Moody and myself; I found it stupid, despite knowing the dangers of this curse. From the corner of my eye, I noticed even Delilah was rather stoic about this display of cruelty.
"Think it's funny, do you?" Professor Moody growled. "You'd like it, would you, if I did it to you?"
The laughter died away almost instantly.
"Total control," said Professor Moody quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. "I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats..."
I frowned when I suddenly felt Delilah begin to shake, nervously I could guess. I didn't know what to do to comfort her, so I merely held her hand under the desk as she would do with me when trying to comfort me.
"Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse," said Professor Moody; "Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will. The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he barked, and everyone jumped.
Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar.
"Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?"
On instinct, my free hand flew into the air again and so, to my surprise, did Neville's. The only class in which Neville usually volunteered information was Herbology which was easily his best subject; even Neville looked surprised at his own daring.
"Yes?" said Professor Moody, his magical eye rolling right over to fix on Neville.
"There's one— the Cruciatus Curse," said Neville in a small but distinct voice.
Professor Moody was looking very intently at Neville, this time with both eyes.
"Your name's Longbottom?" he said, his magical eye swooping down to check the register again.
Neville nodded nervously, but Professor Moody made no further inquiries. Turning back to the class at large, he reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless, apparently too scared to move.
"The Cruciatus Curse," said Professor Moody. "Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea," he said, pointing his wand at the spider. "Engorgio!"
The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula. Abandoning all pretense, Ron pushed his chair backward, as far away from Professor Moody's desk as possible.
Suddenly, I felt my eyes widen upon seeing the man raise his wand anew; he couldn't possibly…
Pointing his wand at the spider, and he muttered, "Crucio!"
At once, the spider's legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but I was sure that if it could have given voice, it would have been screaming. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Neville staring at the scene before us, terrified. He wasn't the only one; Delilah's twitching hand had stilled in my own, her face twisted in a look of terror that I could only recognize from that one vision she'd shown us of herself confronting those creatures that had killed her brother Brady.
"Stop it!" I said shrilly.
I could feel eyes settle upon it, but I paid no mind to them as mine solely focused on my best friend currently scared; it wasn't often Delilah showed fear, and so seeing her in this state worried me. I felt my eyes widened when I noticed Delilah's things and white-board and marker, all which sat neatly on the desk in front her, began to shake uncontrollably. Just how far did her fear run, at this moment?
Suddenly, everyone was silent, including Moody himself. I chanced a glance toward him and saw him with his wand raised, the spider's legs relaxed, but continuing to twitch.
"Reducio," he muttered, and the spider shrank back to its proper size. He put it back into the jar.
"Pain," said Moody softly. "You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse… That one was very popular once too. Right... anyone know any others?"
I chanced another look, this time, around me; from the looks on everyone's faces, I could only guess they were all wondering what was going to happen to the last spider.
My head snapped back Delilah's way when I noticed her putting her things back into her school bag, only stopping when Moody suddenly called out to her, her entire body freezing as still as a statue.
"Want to give it a go, Miss Dawn?"
There was something in the way he said her name that bothered me. Looking over at Ron and Harry, clearly, I was not the only one. The three of us turned our gaze back to our friend, whose hands now held her board tightly against her lap, knuckles whitening from sheer force of her strong grip on the item, all her other school supplies put away in her now buckled bag.
The incantation was written in bold, capital letters, but clearly spelled out with a shaking hand. I could understand her unease at the mentioning of the curse that killed, not only Harry's parents, but also her grandparents. I remember this one particular night, she had revealed to me remembering the night of her grandparents' death; ever since she'd recovered from her memory loss last year, she remembered everything, all the way back to the moment she was born.
"Yes, the last and worst," said Moody, snapping us all out of our thoughts. "... the Killing Curse."
He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody's fingers, but he trapped it and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface.
Moody raised his wand and all but roared the incantation.
There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air. Instantaneously, the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead.
My hand flew to my mouth as I held back a gasp, whilst several of the others stifled cries; Ron had thrown himself backward and almost toppled off his seat as the spider skidded toward him.
Moody swept the dead spider off the desk onto the floor.
"Not nice," he said calmly. "Not pleasant. And there's no counter-curse. There's no blocking it. Only two people have ever survived it, and they're sitting right in front of me."
Suddenly, I noticed a strange look in his eyes as he openly stared at Harry. I glanced over at my friend to see what that was about, only to find him staring at the blank blackboard instead, as though fascinated by it, but not really seeing it at all...
I was puzzled as I turned my gaze back to Moody, only to find him staring at Delilah now; glancing around, everyone else looking around at her too, but she merely kept her gaze on her little white-board, still holding it with a tight grip as though letting go would throw her off a lifeboat.
Moody was speaking again, from a great distance, it seemed to me. With a massive effort, I forced my mind from my worries and pulled myself back to the present and listened to what he was saying.
"This curse is one that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it— you could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I'd get so much as a nosebleed. But that doesn't matter. I'm not here to teach you how to do it.
Now, if there's no counter-curse, why am I showing you? Because you've got to know. You've got to appreciate what the worst is. You don't want to find yourself in a situation where you're facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared, and the whole class jumped again.
"Now... those three curses are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That's what you're up against. That's what I've got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practice constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get out your quills... copy this down..."
With a shaking hand, I readied myself to take notes. My movements, however, came to a halt when Delilah suddenly shot from her seat and stormed out of the room. The only hint I got as to what was going on was the excessive heat radiating from her body as she hurried out of the classroom, leaving all her things behind, including her wand.
She really wasn't kidding about always forgetting her wand, huh?
Knowing I didn't really need to take notes on this particular class, having already studied this chapter during the summer break, I packed my things in a hurry with the intention of running out of this bloody and room and catching up to Delilah, only to be caught by surprise upon seeing Ron running off in my stead.
I really ought to give him more credit than I usually do.
Harry's P.O.V.
"Ron!" I hissed as I watched him rush after Delilah.
I know I should've reacted more quickly and rushed out myself, but she'd been so quiet lately, that I myself was too enthralled in my own comfort of her naturally soothing presence rather than seeing there was clearly something wrong. Even Hermione, who's always so deep in her own study to notice anything, had noticed Delilah's suddenly odd behavior and had her things packed and ready to follow our friend.
"Focus on your notes for now," she uttered, as she resumed her note-taking.
"But Deli—"
"I know there's something going on, but right now we just have to trust Ron will get to her in time before something bad happens and someone gets killed," she rushed frantically, her hand flying across her parchment, scribbling down her notes at an impressive speed. "Or worse—"
"Let me guess, 'expelled'?" I finished, sparing her a glance, chuckling softly in spite of myself upon catching the faint blush darkening her cheeks. "You know, sometimes I question your ideologies…"
"Shut up," Hermione grumbled, nudging me with her shoulder.
From then onward, we spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each of the Unforgivable Curses. No one spoke until the bell rang, but when Moody had dismissed us and we all began to file out of the classroom, a torrent of talk burst forth. Most people were discussing the curses in awed voices; they were talking about the lesson as though it had been some sort of spectacular show, but I honestly hadn't found it very entertaining and nor, it seemed, had Hermione.
"Hurry up," she said tensely as we grabbed Deli and Ron's things, then hurried out the door.
"Not the library again?" I uttered, hoping to all the gods in existence she wasn't thinking about that when both our best friends hadn't returned from god knows where they had run off to.
"No," said Hermione curtly, pointing up a side passage. "Neville."
Neville was standing alone, halfway up the passage, staring at the stone wall opposite him with the same horrified, wide-eyed look he had worn when Moody had demonstrated the Cruciatus Curse.
"Neville?" Hermione said gently.
Neville looked around.
"Oh hello," he said, his voice much higher than usual. "Interesting lesson, wasn't it? I wonder what's for dinner, I-I'm starving, aren't you?"
"Neville, are you all right?" said Hermione.
"Oh yes, I'm fine," Neville gabbled in the same unnaturally high voice. "Very interesting dinner— I mean lesson— what's for eating?"
Hermione gave me a startled look.
"Neville, what—"
But an odd clunking noise sounded behind us, and we turned to see Professor Moody limping toward them. All three of us fell silent, watching him apprehensively, but when he spoke, it was in a much lower and gentler growl than we had yet heard.
"It's all right, sonny," he said to Neville. "Why don't you come up to my office? Come on... we can have a cup of tea..."
Neville looked even more frightened at the prospect of tea with Moody. He neither moved nor spoke. Moody turned his magical eye upon me.
"You all right there, Potter?"
I narrowed my eyes at the odd man, defiantly. "Yes," I uttered firmly.
Moody's blue eye quivered slightly in its socket as it surveyed me. Then he said, "You've got to know. It seems harsh, maybe, but you've got to know. No point pretending... well... come on, Longbottom, I've got some books that might interest you."
Neville looked pleadingly at us, but, frankly, I couldn't think of anything to say, so Neville had no choice but to allow himself to be steered away, one of Moody's gnarled hands on his shoulder.
"I wonder what that was about…" Hermione uttered as we watched Neville and Moody turn the corner.
"I don't know," I said; "and frankly, I don't think I really want to."
"Me neither," Hermione admitted after a moment, then shook her head. "Let's just forget about this. It was very agitating and mind-consuming, and, honestly, I'm not looking forward to the next lessons to come."
I gently nudged her arm and motioned down the hall. "Yeah, let's go find Deli and Ron. Don't think Ron'll survive the night without dinner."
Ron P.O.V. (A.N. Bet y'all didn't expect any of this, huh? :P)
Obviously, the thing I hate the most is spiders. Even watching one get tortured wouldn't change that. But at that moment, I'd never been more terrified. Fred and George were right— Professor Moody did know his stuff bloody well, but there was this look about him that just chilled my bones.
It was so sinister and almost sick, the way he almost seemed to find pleasure in torturing and killing the bloody thing.
But then I saw Neville— the way his knuckles whitened as his hands balled into fists; I almost thought they might explode, even though I knew that was just impossible. Harry's attention was undivided, but it was clear he was just as disturbed. Even Hermione— if possible, her bushy hair had frizzed up even more, nearly reflecting her shock at the sight unfolding before us.
It was Deli, though, who hauled my attention the furthest.
She'd almost broken that white-board of hers she'd had for years as she held it up with two words written across it in bold, upper-cased letters, clearly spelled out with a shaking hand. A shudder ran down my spine as I read them;
AVADA KEDAVRA
By this point, I didn't know, anymore, if her unease stemmed from the mentioning of the curse that killed, not only Harry's parents, but also her grandparents, or the intensity by which the class was unrolling over the hour.
"Yes, the last and worst," said Moody, snapping us all out of our thoughts. "Avada Kedavra... the Killing Curse."
He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade his fingers, but he trapped it, and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface.
Like Harry and Hermione, my eyes remained solely on our mute friend, my gaze only snapping to the front the second I heard the frightening roar of Mad-Eye Moody as he chanted the third forbidden curse.
It's scary how promptly it all happened— the flash of blinding green light and the odd rushing sound following suit, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air. Instantaneously, the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead.
Instinctively, I threw myself backward and almost toppled off my seat as the spider skidded toward me. Wide-eyed, I glanced at the half-crippled mad man as he swept the dead spider off the desk onto the floor.
"Not nice," he said calmly. "Not pleasant. And there's no counter-curse. There's no blocking it. Only two people have ever survived it, and they're sitting right in front of me."
I faintly noticed a strange look in his eyes as he openly stared at Harry, though I was still too bloody terrified, trying to calm my nerves to make much of it. Gulping in a deep breath, I glanced over at Harry and found him staring at the blank blackboard instead, as though fascinated by it, but not really seeing it at all...
Puzzled, I turned my gaze back to Moody, only to find him staring at Delilah now; glancing around, everyone else looking around at her too, but she merely kept her gaze on her little white-board, holding it with a tight grip as though letting go would throw her off a lifeboat.
Moody was speaking again, but I all but ignored him— bloody mental cripple... purposely scaring us— could've had a bloody heart attack!
With all the effort I could muster, I attempted to force my mind from my worries and push my attention back toward Moody, but the instant Delilah shot from her seat and stormed out of the room, I stumbled out of mine and dashed after her, faintly hearing Hermione call out my name, but opting to ignore it.
Delilah's my best friend too— it's not fair of me not to be there for her when she's there for me and the others whenever need be. And the Quidditch Cup was the first time I got to return the favor, but it certainly was not going to be the last.
With a heavy step, I raced down the long corridors, as stealthily as possible, hoping and wishing to all the bloody gods that may exist that I would not bump into any authorities figure as this time around— the number of times we've gotten in trouble… I should've borrowed Harry's map.
Upon turning the various corners, I crashed into something hard and fell to the ground.
"Ron?"
With a groan of pain from the sudden crash and fall, I glanced up at the familiar voice and blinked in surprise.
"What are you doing here? I thought you'd be with Harry and Hermione."
With a grunt, I pushed myself to my feet. "Your sister ran out of class— was chasing after her," I panted. "Now, I've lost sight of her. Thanks a whole bloody lot, Seth."
The boy gave me a flat look. "I'm pretty sure you lost sight of her the moment you left your classroom, so don't go about blaming me, you twat."
I growled but didn't deny it. "You people are bloody fast, I tell you. D'you think she would've used that Apparition thing she can do with her Wiccan magic?"
Seth shook his head. "No, she wouldn't do that so publicly. No one knows 'bout that side of us, 'cept for you lot, Dumbledore, another select few from the staff and the sorting hat."
I snorted. "The sorting hat? You're joking, right?"
"The sorting hat knows all— it's practically clairvoyant," said someone behind me.
I groaned upon recognizing this voice; bloody hell, I have a nosy sister. "What do you want, Ginny? Can't you see I'm busy?"
"Doing what, standing about like the bloody idiot you are with no clue as to where to go next?" she snapped, her hands tightening around the straps of her bag.
I noticed that, much like a few other close friends of ours, Ginny had taken to carrying a bag around with her supplies of the day like Delilah had been doing most of the time since our first year.
"You guys say 'bloody' a lot, it's a miracle your family hasn't started the whole swearing jar thing," Seth uttered.
"Hello, Seth," Ginny greeted him, a small smile etching along her lips, her face reddening near the color of our hair.
I glanced back at Deli's little brother when he didn't respond and rolled my eyes when I found him staring at my sister with a dumbfounded look on his face, his eyes glazed over as though in a trance.
"Oi!" I snapped. "Stop ogling my sister."
"Ron!" Ginny grumbled.
"I can find her," Seth uttered, still clearly distracted by my sister; Merlin, she's a glutton for punishment.
"What, you gonna sniff her out?" I uttered sarcastically. At this, Seth turned his gaze back to me and gave me a deadpanned look. "You're joking!"
"'You people'," he echoed my earlier words with a scoff. "And yet, you seem to forget what that implies. Yes, Ronald, I'm going to 'sniff her out' as you so delicately put it. Now, unless you wanna give Snape another excuse to deduct points from Gryffindor for merely existing, I suggest you—"
"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Ginny grumbled, cutting Seth off. "She was headed for the entrance. She's probably already in the Forbidden Forest."
Before either Seth or I could add anything else, Ginny glanced around the corner before running off to the entrance, leaving the two of us behind, standing in utter silence.
"... try anything with my sister and I'll—"
"You do realize I could totally crush you, despite the fact that I haven't even phased yet, right?"
"... I bloody hate you…"
"No, you don't."
"Boys!"
"Coming!"
For a second home, Hogwarts was seriously starting to buzz me off the wrong way; every year we'd spent here, we either found ourselves in trouble out here in the forest— the centaurs, those bloody spiders, and the big wolf fight; Deli's one humongous wolf…
Heck, it wasn't even always in the woods; we'd fallen underneath a trapdoor guarded by a ginormous, three-headed dog, down the sewers of the girl's bathroom where a bloody basilisk was waiting, and we'd even been attacked and locked in by dementors and a mad animagus… Granted, Sirius did end up being a good guy and the father of one of my best friends and the godfather of another— wish he was my godfather too, maybe then I'd get a Firebolt…— but this place is bloody cursed and why the heck am I still here?!
"Deli?!"
Oh, right. Wait… when did I get here?
I grimaced the familiar dark aura that surrounded the forest that was forbidden to us for obvious reasons. Seth led our group, scouting ahead, his attention solely on what we sought to find. My sister, walking not far behind him, before me, glanced around, my nervousness and anxiety mirrored across her face as she kept glancing behind, past me; probably looking to see if we were followed.
At this point, I've learned not to give too much crap about it; being who I am and who my best friends are, we're bound to get in trouble for one reason or even no reason at all, especially with Snape sticking his bloody, crooked nose where it doesn't belong…
Suddenly, I bumped into Ginny, who had bumped into Seth, both of whom had stopped walking. Following their gaze, I noticed an enormous, familiar black mass standing a few ways away from her. Brows furrowed, I took a hesitant step around my sister and a few more till I stood in front of both third years.
As I gradually advanced toward my best friend, I faintly noticed how the ears atop her head, which had been previously flattened unto her fur, unpinned themselves from it and turned in my direction; she knew we were here.
"Deli?"'
I stopped when she took a few steps back, her gaze unwavering from whatever s/he sought in the dark of the woods that we could not see, coming to a halt and leaning into a slight crouch before me.
CRACK!
A loud crackling sound echoed through the woods, followed by a near-blinding flash of lightning and a gusting wind that nearly threw us back off our feet. For a moment, the light remained, glimmering brightly in the dark, forcing us to look away. When it was safe to look back, for a moment, all I could see was a pair of glowing eyes before they fluttered shut and, before us four, a very naked woman collapsed in a heap on the ground.
For a moment, no one moved.
For a moment, I felt my face boiling red upon seeing a nude lady before my eyes were suddenly covered.
"Ginny?!" I squeaked, startled. "Why the blo—"
"You know why, you numb-nut!" she hissed, her voice followed by a growl of seemingful agreement, emanating from the enormous wolf in company.
Get back to the castle.
Ginny and I yelped, she seemingly as startled as I was upon suddenly hearing Delilah's voice whispering in our mind, her hand leaving my eyes which I instinctively opened anew, blinking owlishly in surprise when I saw Deli had etched toward the unconscious woman and had settled beside her, her enormous, furred body hiding the nameless, nude person from sight.
"We're not leaving you here!" Ginny huffed, sounding almost offended at being sent off.
"Yeah," I agreed with a nod. "What if she's some creepy vampire that'd been lurking about the woods, just waiting for you to come to eat you?"
It was silent for a moment, and I suddenly felt self-cautious when three pairs of eyes landed on me and looked me over utterly unimpressed.
"What?" I uttered defensively. "That woman's got gold eyes! Didn't you once say vampires have gold eyes?"
Ginny scoffed. "Vampires don't have golden eyes…" She hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward Deli. "Do they?"
"They do," I grunted.
"I doubt she's a Cold One," Seth denied.
"A cold wha— what the bloody hell are you two yappin' about?" Ginny demanded.
"Vampires with golden eyes," Seth and I replied in unison before returning to the conversation at hand.
"She's not one, though," Seth denied once more.
"She's got the eyes!"
"That doesn't mean anything!"
JUST GO AND GET ME SNAPE AND GRANDPA D!
Jumping fright at the thundering voice echoing in my head, I scrambled back, Seth following my stead. Scurrying out of the dark woods, Seth and I hurried out of the Forbidden Forest and back into the castle, when suddenly, something occurred to me.
"... who the bloody hell is Grandpa D?"