Ariel sat up, unable to sleep.
This was getting old, really.
Instead of lying there and feeling sorry for herself and her insomnia, Ariel padded down to the Common Room and stoked the fire, propping up one of the books on Parseltongue Hermione had brought for her in her lap. She'd been frantically trying to keep Ariel distracted as the holiday winded down after the Polyjuice. Ariel didn't know how she'd done it, but she'd somehow managed not to Hex Malfoy whenever she saw him in the Great Hall, snickering in her direction. As Hermione kept (repeatedly) mentioning, they had absolutely no proof and doing anything would only land Ariel in a world of trouble.
Ariel wondered if she brought it to Snape what he would say… but he'd been — was — friends with Lucius Malfoy. The thought put a bad taste in her mouth, like she'd drank sour milk.
Shoving that thought aside, Ariel tried to concentrate on the book. It was actually very interesting, when her brain allowed her to focus, but Ariel didn't know what half of it meant. There were spells for mending broken bones and curing colds, soothing headaches, and relieving pain. There were even spells for strengthening immunity systems or providing protection from dark magical creatures. It seemed so elegant, so sophisticated — nothing like the jagged, hissing language she'd heard Ron describe, or rather, what he'd said it'd sounded like to whoever was listening. Everything else related to diseases of the mind, which is where Ariel began to get lost.
She shut the book with a sigh after a while, still not even a little tired and glanced around the Common Room. There was a couple snogging on one of the loveseats, Ariel realized with an eye roll. Everyone had returned from holiday, the air thick with trepidation. It was most noticeable during meals and it the corridors between classes. Professor Dumbledore had instated a new rule – no one was to go anywhere alone, they had to travel in groups of two or more. Some of the Muggleborn students hadn't come back and Ariel didn't blame them.
That was when she noticed that there was a small figure huddled on the couch opposite her. Ariel's heart gave a nasty start when she realized it was Ginny, her hair wet and hanging in front of her face, like she'd just had a bath. She had that little black notebook in her lap, but she wasn't writing in it. It sat there as she gazed blearily into the fireplace, seemingly unaware of Ariel's presence.
"Ginny?" Ariel called softly, frowning. "What're you doing up?"
Her head snapped up to meet Ariels' gaze, her eyes were wide, like a deer in headlights. "I could ask you the same thing."
She sighed, sliding off the couch to settle in front of her. "You got me there. I couldn't sleep."
"Me too," Ginny murmured. She propped her chin on her knees, holding her legs tightly together.
Ariel felt a pang of guilt reverberate through her. She should've tried harder to make sure Ginny was okay, because it was very clear that she wasn't. With everything going on with the Heir and the Chamber and the (spoiled, ruined, wasted) Polyjuice…
"Ginny…" Ariel trailed off, quiet for a moment before she reached down deep inside her and summoned her courage. "What's wrong? You haven't been acting like yourself all term."
Ginny's mouth opened, as if to answer her question, but no words came out. Her eyes darted around the room before settling again on Ariel. She seemed to be searching for something; perhaps a way out of the situation, she'd been so flighty lately that Ariel and Hermione could barely get a passing "hello" out of her.
Ariel could definitely sense something was off, so she pressed further. "Come on, you can tell me. I promise I won't say anything to anyone."
She bit her trembling lip before turning away, hiding her face.
"I'm just…" Ginny hesitated, her voice cracking. "I'm worried about the Chamber."
Ariel's stomach tightened. It had been several weeks since the last attack, but the fear still lingered, like a cloud hanging over everyone. She could see the fear etched onto Ginny's face and knew that it was more than just normal worry.
"What do you mean?" Ariel asked, her voice soft and steady. "The monster is only attacking Muggleborns. You're safe."
Ginny's eyes snapped up to meet Ariel's, and for a moment, Ariel was taken aback by the intensity of her gaze. "I know that," her voice was barely a whisper now, but Ariel could still hear the fear in it. "But what if it's not just attacking Muggleborns? What if it comes after my brothers next? I — I would just die if something happened to one of them."
"Ginny," Ariel said, reaching out to take her hand. "That's not going to happen. It's only Muggleborns students that have been Petrified."
"And Mrs Norris."
Ariel inclined her head. "Okay, yes —"
"And Nick —"
"Alright, yes, you're right, but they were both in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Ginny's eyes brimmed with tears. "What if they're in the wrong place at the wrong time? What if they're next?"
Ariel squeezed Ginny's hand, trying to offer some comfort. "Have you met your brothers? They're always in the wrong place at the wrong time and somehow, they manage. Well, maybe not Percy, but you know what I mean."
Ginny took a deep breath and Ariel watched as her eyes glazed over, like she was looking at something far away. She blinked, and when she looked back at Ariel, there was a strange spark of energy in her eyes.
"That's not all." she said, her tone suddenly flat.
Ariel frowned. "Then what is it?"
"Don't you worry about Hermione?" Ginny asked. "Don't you worry about what you'd do if something happened to her?"
She felt like she'd been dropped ten stories, anxiety and panic pooling up in the pit of her stomach. She had tried very, very hard to keep that particular scenario out of her mind. It had scared the daylights out of her, especially if the Heir was Malfoy. Hermione should've been a prime candidate, but for some reason, he hadn't attacked her.
(Yet)
Ariel thought of her ocean, thought of the water gathering around her feet, around her ankles, and welled up that cooling calmness when she spoke again. "I can't think like that, Ginny. I can't spend my time wondering about all the what if's. I'd drive myself a bit mad if I'm going to be honest."
Ginny's eyes darkened, but the light from the fire made them glow, like smoldering ashes. "But what if she was?"
Against her wishes, Ariel's mind flew to the look on Colin's face plastered on Hermione's, her hand outstretched, reaching for Ariel as the monster's voice called — kill, let me kill —
"I'd kill the Heir," Ariel said quietly. "I really think I'd kill them."
Ginny smiled, then, like her mouth had too many teeth. "I'm sure you would."
After not sleeping most of the night, Ariel was completely knackered the next morning.
She'd walked Ginny up to bed shortly after their conversation, a brand-new kind of urgency fueling her to return to her dormitory. She'd checked on Hermione, who'd been fast asleep (making Ariel terribly envious) and then tossed and turned until Lavender's alarm went off just as she'd begun to finally doze off.
She told Hermione about the conversation she'd had with Ginny at nearly two in the morning while she stifled yawns and made sure Ron wasn't within earshot. She didn't want to say anything to him unless she knew for certain that his parents needed to be told just how panicked Ginny was, and he wouldn't take kindly to any critique of his siblings. Overhearing anything about the Ministry's inquiry with his father had been another to put Ron in a foul mood for days.
"Maybe we should speak to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione offered, but she didn't look too confident in that choice while they ate, settling towards the farther end of the Gryffindor table, away from everyone else. Ron had stayed behind in the Tower to bicker with Seamus about some Quidditch statistics that bored Ariel to tears.
"I'm pretty sure she's been going to her regularly." Ariel's eyes flickered down the table, where the other girls in Ginny's year seemed to be talking at her, not to her. "I've seen Percy go in and out with her a few times."
The Great Hall was far less crowded than usual that morning. Ariel wouldn't have been surprised if a tumbleweed rolled by, the ceiling dark and gray, like everyone's moods. The only person who seemed to be in good spirits was Lockhart, who was yapping to some older group of Ravenclaws, who were nodding along eagerly but sharing skeptical looks behind each other's backs. Even the staff table was looking a little thin, only the Heads of House there this morning, Snape cramped into the corner, looking murderous and miserable, as usual. It was about the only normal thing Ariel could find.
"Being worried about Slytherin's monster can't be all that's going on." Hermione murmured, tearing Ariel's attention away from her inner musings.
She sighed dejectedly. "I know… I tried."
"Maybe we should tell Ron…"
"Or Fred and George? For all their jokes, they might take it seriously enough to write home. Percy doesn't want the attention…"
"Or they'd just ask you to brew one of your famous potions." Hermione rolled her eyes, but she was smirking.
Ariel shook her head. "Do you know how many Pepper Ups I've given her? I don't know how to make anything stronger… not with the ingredients in the student storeroom, anyway."
"Ask Professor Snape to teach you." Hermione said this offhandedly, like she was talking about the weather.
She blinked at her. When Hermione didn't respond, but instead started picking from the berries in the middle of the table, Ariel scoffed and poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice, shaking her head incredulously. Before she could take a swig, one of the house elves appeared, swiped it from her hand, and disappeared with a pop.
"That's starting to get old," Ariel muttered, annoyed, and Hermione shot her a disapproving look. "You can't be serious. He hates teaching us — what makes you think he'd give me private lessons?"
She pursed her lips. "Well, I think you have a good enough reason, but now that I think about it, it might be a little unfair."
Ariel scowled at her. "He wouldn't let that matter."
"He's let you use his private quarters."
Being my child means that if you go after that voice again —
She shifted uncomfortably. "That's different."
Hermione shrugged. "If you say so. I'm just saying that you've got a knack for it, and it's pretty obvious where you got it from."
"Ugh," Ariel buried her face in her hands as the house elf returned with her pumpkin juice.
Hermione looked unphased. "You brewed that Polyjuice from scratch —"
"You helped!"
"I did, but you started it with just me dictating the instructions. One mistake and we would've had to start over."
"Why are you buttering me up?"
Hermione smiled at her. "I'm not! But you've got loads of talent… you just don't use it."
Ariel snorted. "Tell that to Fred and George."
"I mean for legal uses." Hermione's face darkened. "You could get in a lot of trouble for that, even if it's helping other students."
Ariel smiled, but it slowly faded as she fiddled with her glass. "I don't think a potion is going to be all that helps Ginny, though." she said.
Hermione sighed, letting her fork clatter against her plate. "No," she said quietly. "You're right, there's something else going on. Everyone is afraid of the Heir, but she was acting odd before the attacks even began."
A thought fell over Ariel, like a drizzle, building until she couldn't ignore it, couldn't shove the thought away without saying it out loud. "You don't think she knows something about the Chamber, do you?"
She froze mid-chew, swallowing loudly before answering. "Like what?"
"I don't know," Ariel hesitated. "That's the thing. I can't pinpoint exactly what is wrong. She just looks… ill. If Madam Pomfrey isn't worried though I can't help but feel silly, but she just talks so strangely sometimes, like she's trying to be someone else. Maybe she knows something and can't say… maybe she saw something."
She trailed off, feeling frustrated and guilty. Being suspicious of Ginny felt an awful lot like a betrayal, not only to her, but to Ron, to their whole family, who had been nothing but overwhelmingly generous and kind to Ariel. After the flying car incident, she couldn't imagine what they would think of her if she wrote to them and made them worry about Ginny, only to find out that there was nothing serious going on. Hermione agreed, though — surely that meant something.
Hermione looked deep in thought for a long time as Ariel grabbed a piece of toast, smearing raspberry jam on it absentmindedly. She didn't even like raspberries, but she wanted to know what Hermione was thinking, staying silent as not to interrupt her train of thought.
She opened her mouth and closed in several times before speaking. "We don't know enough to guess about something like that." Hermione finally said. "If there's another attack…"
Ariel tried to stifle the shudder that passed through her. Colin's face flashed in her mind eye, Filch's cat, Hermione — no, not Hermione, she wouldn't let it happen —
"I haven't heard the voice in a long time," Ariel said, looking around to make sure no one was listening. "It's been silent since before Christmas."
"It's just so odd," Hermione murmured, shaking her head. "Not even Professor Snape —"
She went completely rigid for a moment, causing Ariel to miss her mouth and smear jam across her cheek. Before she could ask what was wrong, Hermione had leapt up, throwing her rucksack across her body clumsily and shoved herself away from the table.
"I've just realized something — I'll be right back!" Hermione practically shouted, running out of the Great Hall without a backwards glance. Ariel stared after her, mouth hanging open, until a small pop and hand swiped the toast from her.
"Miss Evans!" the elf squealed. "Miss Evans must wait for Winky!"
The house elf disappeared with the toast Ariel didn't even want anymore. She wiped the jam off of her face and drummed her fingers against the table for a long moment before peering back up at the High Table.
Snape was staring at her with a peculiar look on his face — not scathing or suspicious — but almost like he was wondering the same thing Ariel was.
The coin vibrated in her pocket.
You missed a spot
Ariel glared mutinously at him before using a Cleansing Charm on her face. She stifled the urge to stick her tongue out at him and heaved herself to her feet.
"Thanks," she muttered, grabbing her rucksack. "Super helpful, this coin is."
Severus was nursing a migraine after another grueling afternoon of teaching.
His Fourth-Year class had been a particular disaster, one of the students nearly poisoning the entire room when he'd added in too much spider venom to his Manegro potion. The fumes had given Severus a headache that pounded against his skull.
He forced himself to work through the discomfort and set to restocking Pomfrey's stock, which he'd put off during the holiday while brewing the girl's potion. She'd been to see him intermittently, but not as often as she had earlier in the term. Severus had Charmed the pocket watch to alert him if Miss Evans was nearby after he'd retired to the sanctity of his quarters for the evening. It would glow, as it was that night, to let him know she was approaching. He quickly put a Stasis Charm on the batch of Calming Draught he'd been working on and slipped back into his quarters just as the door creaked open.
The girl scuttled in, hanging her cloak and rucksack on the hanger beside the door. She scrunched her nose as she padded over to his desk, a glint in her eyes Severus did not care for in the slightest.
"Slytherin's monster is a basilisk, isn't it?" she said, almost triumphantly. Not even her usual hello – just an accusation that caused Severus to freeze. He stared at her coldly, not allowing his face to betray any emotion. Inside, however, he felt his rage surge forward full throttle. It burned like an itch he couldn't scratch.
He seated himself behind his desk. The girl had miraculously been staying out of trouble lately, which should have tipped him off to the fact that she'd be up to no good sooner or later.
"And how did you come to that conclusion?" Severus asked softly, leaning forward with his hands clasped together tightly. Control, control, control —
"Hermione figured it out." the girl looked pretty damn proud of herself, for something she hadn't even done. "That's why only I can hear the voice, isn't it? Because I can speak Parseltongue."
He didn't answer her, not wanting to give in. He was very nearly impressed with himself over the amount of restraint he was utilizing. On Christmas, however, he had smoked an entire carton of cigarettes after giving the girl the potion. Severus had never felt that out of control before, so caught off guard and inept at handling a situation. All he'd wanted to do was giving Miss Evans the fucking thing and leave, but as usual, she'd made the simplest of tasks difficult.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Miss Evans demanded when he didn't respond. "You should have said something!"
"Can you think of no reason why we might not have shared this information with students?"
"I'm not just some student," her eyes flashed like gold in the dim light. "As you like to mention all the time."
Severus' lip curled. The impertinent, meddlesome brat —
"You are not entitled to more information than everyone else just because of who you are." he snapped.
Miss Evans glowered, her hands balling at her sides. "I think I should know if the voice attacking other students — the voice only I can hear, the voice that could attack my best friend — is some big, dirty snake!"
The intensity deflated out of her with every word until she was staring at the floor, her expression one of worry. The freckles over her nose had paled, hands knotting in her robes. Severus felt a pang of what he supposed with sympathy, but he'd never had this particular emotion stir within him this strongly before. He felt it from time to time with his Slytherins, seeing a young, frightened First Year and thinking of himself, but it had always been more pity than anything.
"Miss Granger is — quite capable." Severus heard himself saying. He tried to stop, but he couldn't. "I'm fairly certain she won't find herself in a situation in which she could be harmed, especially if you know both know the identity of the monster. Putting yourself in the path of a basilisk would be unwise."
Miss Evan's eyes widened before she bit her lip and nodded. "You're right," she said, but it was mostly to herself. "But it's not a guarantee."
He cleared his throat before letting the menace he'd been holding back leak into his voice, like a tiny stream branching off a river. "Concerning yourselves with the Chamber should be the last thing you're worrying about. You are more at risk than Miss Granger, or did you forget that someone poisoned you in a hall full of people?"
She gave him a withering glare. "Poison is better than getting Petrified."
"I'm not comparing the two."
"You kind of are." she argued. "Hermione is in as much danger as I am. All of the Muggleborn students are."
The Dark Lord will want you above all else, the Dark Lord will stop at nothing —
"Stay out of it." Severus said warningly. "The less involved you are — the both of you are — the better. Am I clear?"
Miss Evans nodded halfheartedly, sighing as she looked around the room. After a moment or so, her eyes lit up and she dashed over to her rucksack, slipping out a book that looked ancient. The binding had started to fray at both ends, the leather cover warped and weathered.
"I brought the book I've been reading on Parseltongue." she slammed in down in front of him and hoisted a chair closer, so close that when she sat down, her knees knocked against his desk. "Will you look?"
The book had created a small cloud of dust that Severus vanished with an annoyed wave. If the girl had noticed, she gave no indication, eagerly watching him as he opened it.
"Where in Merlin's name did you find this?" Severus asked, flipping over the cover. It was a poorly bound manuscript on parchment that was yellowed and worn. It was a miracle Pince had allowed her to take this from the library. The book itself only seemed to be a couple of hundred years old, but the text itself was thousands. Medieval illustrations of snakes were scattered throughout the pages along with runes and markings needed for proper spellcasting, but it was almost immediately evident to Severus that this was wandless magic — magic the girl would take years to harness on her own.
This was magic that was not able to be practiced by many, and for that, there was a steep price.
Miss Evans shrugged. "This was the only one in English, the others were all in Latin. Fred showed me a translating Charm to use but it was still pretty hard to read. I couldn't make sense of most of it."
His eyes flickered up at the girl. She stared back, her gaze going from excited to worried.
"This is… old magic." Severus said slowly. "Magic that is not utilized any longer."
Her face fell. "Why not?"
"We've evolved to find easier ways to harness it. This is magic that requires rituals and a specific set of skills."
"Rituals?" she asked, confused.
This was not a conversation Severus wanted to have with a twelve-year-old. Lily would have skinned him alive for allowing her to go and research this sort of thing on her own, but Severus genuinely hadn't known what she would find — if anything — apart from the clippings on the Dark Lord's ability to speak Parseltongue, and those were gossip, more than anything.
He also couldn't deny the lure it still held over him, even after almost a decade of abstinence.
"Ritualistic magic is closely tied to the Dark Arts." he said flatly.
Her eyebrows furrowed together. "But this magic heals people." she leaned forward and poked at the text, like it would begin to argue for itself. "How can magic that does good be considered Dark?"
"Light magic draws from your core, from nature." Severus said stiffly. "Dark magic draws from… other sources."
Miss Evans grimaced. "Like what?"
"If you had a Defense teacher that taught you an ounce of anything worth knowing," he slammed the book closed. "You would know the answer to that question."
She didn't look convinced. "But what if you're using it to do good?" she persisted. "Is it still considered Dark?"
"Yes." Severus hated that question. He didn't know how much until he'd answered it the way Dumbledore would have wanted him to, and he felt like he was lying for someone.
Huffing, Miss Evans fell back in her chair. "So Parseltongue is exclusively a bad thing, then? There's no good that can come of it, unless you find a particularly friendly snake to have a chat with?"
"The ability itself is not considered Dark, only the potential use of healing magic it utilizes." He pressed a fingertip to the top of the book. "The Healing magic Miss Granger suggested has not been practiced in a very long time. Deciphering it would take years, and even then, it would be quite challenging."
She made a noise of frustration. "What if there was a different way? What if you could channel Light magic instead of Dark?"
Severus paused, contemplating this. "That would require a great deal of skill. There is a reason that Dark magic is significantly stronger than Light magic."
Her expression shifted from guarded disappointment to trepidation. "What do you mean?"
The picture of Lily was glaring at him wildly from the corner of his eye.
"This is magic well beyond your current ability," Severus said shiftily, turning the picture slightly away from him, which earned him a look of outrage from Lily. "You are not old enough to begin harnessing or playing with the mechanisms of magic that are older than Hogwarts itself."
"People invent spells all the time." she countered. "You invented that potion — that was Light magic, wasn't it?"
He quirked an eyebrow. "I invented the potion, not the essence of the Charm that was used."
"So?"
He rubbed his face tiredly. She chose today of all days to debate the ongoing toil between Light and Dark? Perhaps he should send the girl up to Dumbledore — no, that was the last thing he needed, the girl citing the old man —
When he didn't answer, Miss Evans took the book from him. She stared at him evenly, an even, steady gleam in her eyes. Severus knew that look well.
"You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?" Severus muttered.
Miss Evans smiled.
The sleepless nights did not let up. In fact, Ariel's insomnia has gotten so bad that one night, towards the end of January, she'd completely given up and began staying in the Common Room once everyone had gone to bed. Fred and George had started up the illegal potions business again and Ariel was busier than ever. The only downside was that she was exhausted by the time lunch rolled around every day. Snape would only give her Dreamless Sleep every couple of nights, but she'd been trying to hide just how little sleep she was getting, and for no particularly good reason she could gather either. It wasn't like last year when she'd been having nightmares.
Ariel decided to try and nap just before dinner one night at Hermione's urging. Trudging up to her Tower, she was eager to collapse into her bed for an hour or two when she noticed something unusual.
Ginny's diary was on her pillow, which was odd, because Ginny hadn't slept in their room in months and guarded the book like a dragon guarded an egg. Ariel crept forward, scanning the room before she picked it up and turned it over in her hands. She didn't want to read it and invade Ginny's privacy, but it was so strange that it would be here, sitting out in the open like this.
Ariel was completely baffled to see that there was absolutely nothing written in it. There was a name smudged in ink on the first page, but she couldn't make it out in the dim light of the room, and her body had decided it was time to rest, her limbs heavy and mind foggy. Shrugging, Ariel slipped it under her pillow for safekeeping and fell into a fitful sleep, one that was interrupted by a low voice.
At first, she thought she was still dreaming, but the voice let out a sound of anger, causing her to jolt awake. Her skin prickled as the hairs on the back of her neck stood up straight, forcing herself not to move as she tried to make sure she wasn't still just sleeping.
"Where is it?" a voice was growling, slicing through the dark like a splinter. "Where did she put it, that stupid girl —"
Ariel froze in her bed, heart pounding like a drum. When she cracked open her eyes she was plunged into an even deeper darkness, the lamp she'd left on doused. The familiarity of her dorm room had been replaced by a murky nothingness, completely relieving her of any sense of direction or knowledge about what was happening. Her mind raced, trying to figure out who was talking and what they were looking for.
She stayed completely still and listened. It was hard to hear over her heart thundering in her ears and her shaky breathing, so she stayed completely still and strained to hear something.
The voice seemed to be coming from the corner of the room, but Ariel couldn't make out anything else because it was too dark. It was as if there were an impenetrable wall between them, something darker than the darkness that kept her from seeing who was there.
She lay there, listening to the voice as it muttered and grumbled, her mind going wild with fear. Who was this person? What did they want from her? Why were they in her room? All these questions raced through Ariel's head, but she was too scared to move or make a sound, not wanting to alert the intruder that she was there — or rather, that she was awake.
Ariel fumbled for the coin in her pocket, thanking anyone listening that she hadn't left it in her rucksack. Someone is in my room, she thought, over and over again, letting the message vibrate in her hand repeatedly until slipped her palm out of her pocket, squeezing her fist so hard that her nails dug into her skin. She could feel Snape's response, the reply buzzing against her leg like a swarm of bees.
She lay still, breathing shallowly and trying not to let the fear overcome her. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the voice stopped. She struggled to place it — it sounded like a man, or rather, a boy, but that was impossible. The dormitories were Warded so that boys couldn't come into girls' rooms, and vice versa.
Ariel then realized she needed to open her eyes – she'd shut them again, afraid the intruder would see. She didn't want to — she'd rather have cut off her wand hand — but she also knew that she couldn't just sit here and wait.
She slowly lifted her head and was met with nothing but two red eyes floating in the darkness. They hung there, seemingly without form. She couldn't tell who it was but given the way they glowed like embers in the dark, it seemed as if whoever was there was staring right at her. Ariel's heart pounded even harder now, threatening to burst out of her chest. She tried to move, but her body felt frozen. The red eyes continued to stare at her, unblinking, unwavering.
Then, suddenly, the eyes disappeared. Ariel let out a shaky breath that she hadn't realized she was holding in, but just as she began to relax, a cold hand reached out and touched her face.
She gasped, trying to scream but nothing came out. The hand was icy cold, like it belonged to a corpse. Ariel could feel the fingers digging into her cheek, pulling her closer to the source of the touch. She struggled to get free, but the hand only tightened its grip. Ariel wanted to scream, to fight back, but all she could do was whimper in terror. It leaned in closer, but Ariel still couldn't make out a face, couldn't see anything but the eyes, burning into hers like piping hot coals.
"Hello, Evans." it laughed in her ear, and Ariel felt bile rise in her throat. She was trapped, alone with this thing in the darkness. It was definitely a boy, an older boy, but not a voice she recognized. "Nice to finally meet you, face to face."
Ariel struggled to control her breathing and stopped struggling. She wanted her wand — she wanted to cast Lumos at her heart and banish the darkness away. It reminded her so much of the thing — the thing on the back of Quirrell's head, wearing darkness like a cloak.
"Not really," Ariel managed to strangle out. "I can't see yours."
She could practically hear his sneer, but it was different than Snape's, somehow. "All in due time. I wouldn't want to spoil that little surprise, now, would I?"
The realization washed over her, prickling at her skin like hot needles as her muscles tensed.
"It's you." Ariel whispered. "You're the Heir."
The figure laughed, the sound cold and hard against her ears, like hail. "Oh, very well spotted, Evans. I'm surprised it didn't take you longer."
Ariel tried to pull away from the figure, but its grip only tightened. The coldness of his touch seeped into her bones, sending shivers down her spine.
"What do you want?" Ariel forced out.
The Heir chuckled again. "What do I want? Only you. Not much, I know."
She gritted her teeth — it hurt to strain her jaw with the hold he had her in, but she could feel little flecks of anger quelling up inside her at his words. He sounded like Quirrell or Aunt Petunia, insulting her worth, getting something out of causing her pain.
"Then come and get me," she snarled. "What's stopping you now? No basilisk to come and help you do your dirty work, is that it?"
The Heir only laughed. "Oh, my dear Evans. Don't you worry, I will get you in time."
Ariel felt a spark of courage ignite within her and she glared back at the figure with defiance. "You'll have to catch me first," she challenged, her voice growing stronger. "How do you suppose you'll get me out of here without anyone seeing, huh?"
The Heir's laughter echoed around the room. "Do you want to see the Chamber that badly, Ariel Evans?" he crooned. "I can make that happen quite easily. You didn't think I'd kill you before you saw it, did you? Although that little poisoning incident was quite the show…"
Don't move darling it's almost over
Have some fire have some fire have some fire
That was the last piece he needed
Something inside of Ariel snapped. She wasn't going to be a victim anymore. She let her wand drop into her waiting palm, and as the Heir's tightened his grip, her jaw rioting in pain, Ariel did the one thing she could think of.
She summoned every ounce of courage that she had left, and with a fierce determination, she bit down hard on the hand that was gripping her face as hard as she could.
"Lumos!" she wheezed, pointing the wand straight at her heart. The fear melted off of her in sheaths, crumbling like tissue paper in water, her vision a sky full of stars as the pain faded for a moment, but she was spinning away, spinning far, so far, far away away away –
The Heir let out an ear-piercing shriek, and Ariel took that opportunity to break free from his grasp. She catapulted herself off the bed and to her feet, away from the Heir and charged towards the door. She didn't look back, letting her feet carry her away, farther and farther as her heart pounded with every footfall. She couldn't suck in enough air, couldn't run fast enough, couldn't force herself to look behind her to see if he was coming after her —
And then suddenly, strong arms swept her up off the ground and pulled her to a halt. Ariel stopped in her tracks, gasping for breath and trembling with fear as she looked up into the face of her father.
She had never been so relieved to see anyone in her life. Relief flooding through every inch of Ariel's body and she heard herself spilling out everything all at once – she didn't even know if she was coherent, but she needed to get it out before the light in her chest faded, because she was taken back under by the paralyzing fear. She'd promised to never feel that helplessness again and she hadn't been able to fight it, hadn't been quick enough –
He held on to her tightly, his hand cupping the same spot on her face that the Heir had, his thumb sweeping across her skin. It stung, feeling tender and bruised.
Ariel looked into his eyes. There was something in them that made her bones quiver, made her knees feel weak and wobbly.
"You bit them?" he finally asked, his voice curdling the air around them.
Ariel could only nod.
His gaze flickered over her face, before his lips twitched almost threateningly.
"That's my girl."