Penelope darted through the Central Hall, as much as the oversized trousers allowed her. Her heart beat furiously in her chest as she crouched under the imposing fountain in the center of the hall, sliding lightly on the marble floor.
She lowered the face mask over the sweaty face, catching her shaking breath. She leaned the back against the cold stone and nervously pulled down the hood of her uniform over the eyes, hoping that no one had heard the tapping of her footsteps on the floor or the faint tinkling of the vials in her bag.
Was the silencing charm holding?
She hoped so.
Luckily Sacharissa has been nice enough to cast the Disillusionment charm on her, since it was a fifth year spell, but the Silencio was her doing and she was not so confident about it.
She had come this far, she couldn't afford any missteps now that she was almost at her destination and had passed both the Entrance Hall and the Viaduct Entrance without any hiccups, moving cautiously and expertly in the night. So she took her wand and cast it again, whispering, just to be sure.
Suddenly, a flickering light crackled, casting a dancing shadow of the stone-carved unicorn above her on the floor.
The girl swallowed clutching the bag to her chest, ears strained, heart pounding, immobile, trying to capture any sign of movement around her. She closed her eyes to concentrate better, repeating to herself that there was nothing to fear because the professors and prefects would surely be busy watching over the South wing, where the baptism of the new Crosswands members was taking place. Or trying to do so.
Taking a deep breath, she put her mask on and stretched her neck over the edge of the fountain, casting uncertain glances, first toward the door leading outside - the greenhouses, her destination - and then toward the library and the staircase were she was coming from.
The shadow stood still, most likely it was one of the torches moved by a gust of wind.
Damn, that castle was made of drafts and nosy ghosts.
Slightly calmer, she was about to decide to get up and resume gliding through the darkness of the hall arches, when she heard voices coming up from the stairs of the Transfiguration Courtyard. Biting her lip, she slipped around the fountain, crawling on all fours, trying to hide from their eyes. Who the hell were them?
She cast a curious glance over the parapet of the fountain, pushing the glasses up the sweat-slick bridge of her nose, trying to discern the figures that were descending the staircase, giggling and whispering.
She instantly recognized the blond curls of Meredith Greyson, the Ravenclaw prefect, and what should have been Newton Third from Gryffindor. There was something between them, and Penelope knew they were on duty in that part of the castle because it was quieter compared to all the commotion in the South part. She just didn't expect them to be so diligent in their task. People sneaking into the night reported them to be quite distracted when they were together.
As if on cue, the two of them stopped on the other side of the fountain and started what seemed like an intense kissing session. Penelope tensed; the sucking noises made her quite uncomfortable, not to mention a bit nauseous.
Meredith moaned, making her stomach churn.
What was so romantic about the damn fountain of the Central Hall?
After what seemed like ages, the noises finally stopped and the voices grew quieter as the prefects circled the fountain and moved along the stairs and toward the Viaduct Entrance. Penelope exhaled quietly as a drop of sweat rolled down tickling her back; returning would be a nightmare, but she didn't have time to dwell on it.
She had to keep moving forward.
As she waited for the figures to be swallowed up by the shadows of the poorly lit corridor - hoping they would not stop to resume their activities - she fumbled with the belt of her trousers, trying to make it tighter so she could run easily.
Finally, she rose to her feet and darted to the other side of the hall, taking cover behind a column where the lantern's light was dimmer. She waited, holding her breath. When she was confident enough, she quietly moved toward the double door leading to the greenhouse, pushing it open and sliding like a shadow.
As soon as she was outside, the girl lowered the mask once more and inhaled, a gust of fresh air washed over her filling her lungs: to be late September the air was brisk and chiller than expected.
Clutching herself in the cloak, she pushed forward, her paces were muffled now by the fallen leaves of the giant tree at the center of the greenhouse courtyard; her favorite place ever.
With a bitter taste of blood still lingering in her mouth from the frantic run, Penelope hurried down the double staircase, pondering whether she should light her wand.
Now that she was outside the castle, would it be safe enough?
She cast a worried glance behind her at the heavy oak door. Something told her it would be better not to play with her luck, she had enough light for now from the glistering glasses of the building ahead.
She pressed on, determined. It wasn't until she reached the entrance of greenhouse number three that she allowed herself a moment to rest. "Here we are," she thought, "finally."
"Alohomora"
The door groaned open with a slow, eerie creak, and Penelope wasted no time in stepping inside. Instantly, her senses were overwhelmed by the familiar blend of scents - dragon fertilizer, damp soil, dry leaves of weird and fascinating plants and the unmistakable odor of Bubotuber pus. With a quick, practiced motion, she pulled her mask up to shield herself from the pungent smell and illuminated her wand.
As the thin beam of light pierced the darkness, it revealed two rows of sturdy counters neatly lined with potted plants on top.
Penelope's eyes darted around, taking in the scene and adjusting to the dark: in one corner, she noticed a stack of empty pots, several bags of fertilizer, and a scattering of gardening tools.
A slow satisfied smile opened her lips. She did it! Undetected! A rush of adrenaline filled her making her dizzy with anticipation.
She still couldn't believe it, but her mission was only halfway done… so she straightened her back and approached the nearest counter. It didn't take long for her to spot the telltale signs – some of the pots had been shifted, and a few plants had clearly been squeezed, their tubers oozing pus in mephitic rivulets.
It was evident that some unfortunate students had endured a rather unpleasant detention that afternoon. By the look of the Bubotubers they had no idea what they were doing.
She shook her head in disappointment, setting her bag on a stool with a jingle. Then she lowered her hood and recoiled her short hair, remembering with a wistful sigh why she had cut it so short, then set her wand nearby so that it lit the workbench.
Time to get some work done!
The girl swiftly pulled out some vials from the bag she had carefully prepared that afternoon along with a copper funnel, some small pins, and finally her beloved dragonskin gloves. She tucked them in by tamping the sleeves of her cloak into the edge so that the pus could not run down her arms. Then carefully took one of the pins.
If Sacharissa needed that pus she would get it. Hopefully the lotion would work this time, as she was growing quite impatient with all her failed experiments on her skin.
She moved one of the pots closer, squinting her eyes in the dim light as she inspected the tubers. They weren't quite ripe yet, but she didn't have a choice. This was the only available night, and it would have to do for her.
Carefully, she took one of the most mature blobs at the top in her hand and pinched it with the pin in different parts, applying pressure little by little while rolling it. Yellowish pus gushed from the small wounds in rivulets. The smell that wafted from it was almost unbearable, but she had to persist.
This lotion would help her throughout the year. Not that she didn't enjoy wearing her mask to cover her face during classes or while sitting in the library, especially with the cold weather approaching and everyone coughing around her. But the sight of her face, horribly disfigured by reddish pimples, made her skin crawl.
She didn't want her body to ruin an already awful year.
With great care, she tilted the funnel against the bulb, allowing the pus to flow into the vial.
The first one was almost full.
"I'm sorry, Professor Garlick," she thought with an half smile, "you shouldn't have taught me so well."
She moved on to the second vial.
As she was about to fill up the third one, she heard a shifting noise. She froze.
"Merlin's beard. You're good."
Penelope jerked, emitting a surprised little cry. She turned sharply, and the vial she held nearly slipped from her hand, slimy from the overflowing pus. With her heart pounding in her throat, she prepared to face the dark figure that was silently advancing in front of her.
She immediately assumed it might be a prefect or a professor, but instead of shouting, the figure was carefully approaching. She didn't dare to take her wand.
Instead, she widened her eyes, trying to make out their shape; they were not indeed a professor, but rather a student like her.
The Disillusionment charm broke as the figure entered the circle of light, and she reflexively took a small step back hitting a stool with her leg, scared. Her voice gone.
She noticed a tall, sturdy figure, cloaked in dark attire, with something reddish and gold sparkling at the edges. A Gryffindor?
"I didn't mean to startle you, sorry."
The voice was one of a boy, a rather mature one, maybe a fifth or a sixth year?
He came forward with his hands in the air as a sign of peace, and a strand of red hair came into view, illuminated by her wand's light; a vibrant red. Her heart leaped for a moment, could it be... but the hair quickly revealed itself to be too long to belong to Leander Prewett, so long that it flowed in small curls around the boy's neck. She noticed freckles on his face, and although she couldn't see his eyes clearly, she somehow knew their color. They were green, with a hint of gold at the rim. Everyone knew the eyes of one of the quirkiest and most humorous guys at Hogwarts.
Garreth Weasley.
She noticed his eyes traveling over her figure, judging her appearance: her too long and misfits trousers, cinched by a torn belt, the oversized jumper under the cloak and the too short messy hair. They stopped on her masked face, the other half covered with glasses.
Even though she had only been using the disguise for ten days, she had grown accustomed to the way others looked at her, so she maintained her composure and confidence, waiting for the other to speak.
"I was here, and I heard you entering the greenhouse. I thought you were Garlick. Then you started to get all that pus as if it was nothing. While I…"
Garreth raised the hem of his shirt, showing his wrinkled and blistered skin.
"It's horrible. Luckily, I had some…" He didn't finish his sentence as Penelope let out a pained cry.
Distracted by his talking, she didn't notice that some of the pus that stained her right glove had flowed down, soaking into her uniform and onto her forearm. She winced and cried out in pain, trying to muffle her noises. Tears started to form in her eyes, while her skin was on fire.
"Damn," she murmured, attempting to avoid gazing at the boils forming on her arm for too long, while taking out the gloves and tossing them aside. Her stomach churned and twisted.
"I should still have some Murtlap essence," began Garreth rummaging in his shoulder bag. However, when he finally found what he was looking for, amid half-empty vials and crinkled, scribbled scraps of parchment, he realized that all his bottles were empty.
"Sorry, I must have used all of them without noticing," he tried to justify himself with an apologetic expression noticing the ragged breath and the moans of pain of the other.
"It doesn't matter," Penelope replied curtly, already loosing her patience, "I… have…" she grabbed her bag, trying not to let it fall, and opened it with her good hand, She hastily started to pull out the few things she had put inside, including a Wiggenweld Potion.
She didn't have time to place it on the counter before Garreth had already stepped forward to take it.
"Open it, and give it to me. Quick." She urged him with tears in her eyes as her arm was swelling and stiffening under her cloak.
She extended her hand, but nothing happened. She turned around, surprised and a little annoyed, as the pain began to make her feel nauseous. Garreth was looking at the potion with a strange expression on his face.
"Give it to me!"
"I… can't."
"What?" Penelope couldn't believe her hears. What the hell was wrong with him?
"First..." he shook the bottle in the dim light, and something greenish and powdery swirled inside. "This is not a Wiggenweld. You didn't chop the dittany leaves properly. By its color, it seems you forgot the Horklump juice, and..." He carefully opened the bottle and took a whiff of its contents, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "There is way too much salamander blood in it. Way too much," he commented raising his eyebrows.
Really? Was he really giving her a full-fledged potion lesson in that desperate moment?
"Just give it to me," she breathed, exasperated. "Please."
But her plead didn't work as expected.
"I can't. I don't know what it'll do to you."
"Let's pretend is one of your concoction, ok? I just want it!" She groaned impatiently, starting to be overwhelmed by the stinging pain in her harm.
She didn't want to faint, for the love of Merlin she could not afford to faint!
"Evanesco."
She stared at him with wide, shocked eyes. "You didn't..."
"I did. That Wiggy was just rubbish, and since I need to take you to the infirmary anyway, it's better to go there without food poisoning. Plus… Wiggenweld does nothing for Bubotuber pus."
"I know…" She didn't have the strength to argue. She was not supposed to get injured by the pus if not for his interruption. That was her last resort.
"So, let's go." He moved towards her, cleaning her tools with a swift movement of his wand, pushing them into her bag, and taking it with him.
Penelope didn't move, not even when he took a few steps towards the entrance with her bag hanging over his shoulder. In her stupor, she blinked, her mind questioning Weasley's sanity.
She knew he was a peculiar guy, but… did the fumes of all his weird potions finally got the best of him?
"C'mon, it's late already," he urged, trying to push her.
"I'm not coming with you. Actually…" She gritted her teeth, "I'm not going to the infirmary. At all." She underlined the last words with a painful groan. Now she couldn't even bend her arm; when she tried, it felt like thousands of pins were prickling her skin and it looked like tree bark.
"Okay, little one, it's not time for tantrums," Garreth said, moving towards her with a resolute look on his face. "I'm not leaving you here to get caught."
"And going to the infirmary will not…?"
She couldn't afford to be punished or to lose points for the house. She was already an outcast; there was no need to make this year even more awful than the previous one. She would be scared if she weren't in such agony.
Garreth sighed.
"There's the Crosswand baptism tonight, we both know it, otherwise we wouldn't be here. The infirmary will already be quite full," he tried to convince her with an impatient look, casting a glance at her injured arm.
He couldn't afford to leave him like this, and he felt a pang of guilt knowing it was his fault.
"Come on, I've got your back, man!" He sent a quirky look her way, his eyes glistening, while he took her wand and placed it in her hand. Then he grabbed her left arm, the good one, and urged her to follow him while she dimmed its light.
Man?
Penelope didn't have the strength to resist his urgent pull. The rush of adrenaline from her trip had already disappeared, leaving her strained and at the mercy of the boy.
He was right. How could she manage with an arm like that? She would end up in the infirmary eventually. It was better to let Ms. Blainey believe she was injured in battle instead of caught stealing.
They rushed up the stairs, then Garreth stopped abruptly, and Penelope crashed against his broad back almost falling backwards. A soft moan escaped her mouth as the hem of her cloak brushed against her injured skin.
He prepared his wand and twirled it above his head, rendering himself invisible, a mere shadow in the night against the greenhouse glass. Then he turned toward her, "I guess you don't know the Disillusionment charm," he murmured biting his lower lip.
She shook her head and for a moment she saw a glint of surprise in his eyes.
"How did you managed to get here?"
Penelope opened her mouth to reply, but then she decided not to answer, she simply shrugged too amused to pass the opportunity to let him think she was some sort of special night creature.
Sachrissa wouldn't tell him for sure.
But her ruse ended shortly as she felt a tap on her head, a sensation like a cracked egg dripping yolk started to flow from the point of contact making her shiver in discomfort.
"Here we are," he whispered with a satisfied half-smile before dragging her again and opening the door. She wanted to ask how he managed to get into the greenhouse without opening the door and what he was going to do with the Bubotuber pus, but she couldn't care less in that moment. All she felt was the searing pain in her arm and the warmth of Garreth's big hand on the other.
She didn't know why it felt so comforting in the chilly night, for sure it was nice to follow someone who seemed to know what he was doing.
So she let him guide her into the castle.
They moved quietly and quickly, crouching against the stone walls and sliding along corridors, trying not to wake up the figures in the paintings as they darted across the marble floors. They had a moment of panic when they found Meredith and Newton near the Entrance Hall, so they decided to stop for a moment, catching their breath, and waiting for the two of them to start kissing again so they could sneak past their backs unnoticed.
When they reached the Hospital Wing, they finally stopped.
"Here we are," Garreth whispered, panting lightly. Penelope tried to catch her breath and grabbed the bag he was offering her. She moved toward a vase in one of the corners and slowly tucked it inside. She felt the boy's gaze on her back.
"That's smart," he agreed, and he was about to add something when they heard footsteps approaching rapidly. Garreth made an involuntary step toward Penelope, as if trying to hide her with his figure.
"Garreth, is that you?" The Disillusionment charm broke once again, revealing both of them to a third person.
"Leander, yes, it's me," Garreth replied with a relieved tone recognizing the voice.
"How did it go? Did you get what you needed?"
Leander stopped in his tracks, assessing the small figure next to his friend. "Oh, I hope what you were looking for wasn't him."
"Of course not!"
Penelope couldn't believe her ears. They had really mistaken her for a boy!
She wasn't sure if she should correct them; they would probably treat her like the rest of the students. So, she remained silent despite the pain in her arm, unable to take her eyes off Leander, blushing under his judging gaze.
"I met him in the greenhouse. How was the duel?" Garreth continued, moving toward his friend.
Leander tilted his head and shrugged. "It was okay. We moved around quite a bit trying to find a suitable place. The misdirection didn't work; the prefects were onto us. A few injuries, but nothing major, probably a couple of suspensions..."
"Yes, but did your pupil win?" Garreth felt his friend tense. "No, Sallow's got the best..."
He stopped; someone was coming once again.
"Okay, we need to go!" Garreth pushed Penelope toward the door leading to the Hospital Wing, while Leander was already on his way to the corridor leading to the Gryffindor tower.
She opened the door, reluctant to go, but her arm was stiff and so swollen it was almost tearing her jumper's seam.
She didn't have a choice. Again.
"Oh well, here we are. Another one. I wonder what happened to you!" Ms. Blainey looked at her arm with a condescending expression.
Penelope tried to explain, but her mouth was dry, and she blurted out some nonsense before collapsing on the bed. She didn't have the strength to return to the Hufflepuff dormitory. In a few minutes, her arm was back to its normal size, despite some ugly marks that wrinkled her skin. According to the nurse, they should heal overnight.
She took off her shoes and cloak, together with her mask and glasses, then she lay on the bed, facing the corridor while trying to ignore the presence of the other few students around her.
Then she saw it—a bulky shadow passing through the slightly open door.
Of course, he had to check if she had gone to the infirmary.
Irritated, she yawned, turned and closed her eyes, hoping she wouldn't get punished this time.
