Chapter 35: Masquerade, Part 2

"So, people have been talking about your little…skirmish with Severus Snape. Word gets around, you know." The seventh-year, his eyes peeking through a steel-gray mask, leaned in conspiratorially, if they were sharing some secret. "Is it true that your Draught of Living Death produced a comatose state for more than twenty-five minutes with no adverse side effects?"

Ariadne had only been talking to this particular Ravenclaw student for about three minutes and she was already annoyed. "It was thirty, and yes. Sirius was fine. A bit of haziness when he woke up, but that's to be expected."

"So no lasting damage," said the Ravenclaw, gesturing at Sirius with his wine glass and chortling.

"None that I haven't already repaid to Snivellus three-fold," said Sirius in a low voice.

"Of course, stories can be…exaggerated, with their retelling," said the Ravenclaw silkily. "I'm sure that you're acquainted with Florian Clarke, you know, our star chaser." He gestured at Sirius again as if he was including this information for his benefit, although Sirius wasn't on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. "I witnessed him put out a mouse for almost an hour with less than half an ounce of his draught."

"Although I know it can be hard for you to distinguish among non-Ravenclaw students, Wilkens, I am not a mouse," said Sirius.

"Of course, of course, there are important anatomical differences in a human subject that must be taken into consideration. But for the purposes of the experiment, you and the mouse played analogous roles." Wilkens smiled in a way that was nearly indistinguishable from a smirk. "It must be such a privilege to work for as talented a witch as Miss Morrigan."

"The position of my personal potions guinea pig is always open, Wilkens," responded Ariadne with false sweetness. "In fact, I've been working away at an advanced targeted Shrinking Solution that needs testing. It can reduce the size of a selected area with remarkable position." She smiled even more widely. "I have yet to figure out if the effects are permanent, however. You can have the honor of being my first test subject, if that's what you covet. That is, if you have the…guts for it."

Wilkens' smile froze behind an expression of growing horror. "I, uh, appreciate the magnanimous offer, Miss Morrigan." He squinted off into the crowd, pretending to be looking for someone. "Well, I do believe that's Gottfried, over there! If you'll excuse me, I've been needing to collect the Transfiguration book I lent him over a month ago. A magical Halloween to you both." He nodded at Sirius and Ariadne and hurried off.

Sirius watched him depart with his lip curled, as if there was much more he would have liked to say and do to Wilkens. Ariadne caught his expression and said, "Don't worry, I charmed his pumpkin juice while he was blathering. In about fifteen minutes, he'll be admitting to everyone that he cheated off Clarke's Swelling Solution in Potions last week and that he attempted to fix the last Quidditch match by buying off Potter."

Sirius grinned at her. "That was quite devious, Morrigan…and a bit vengeful for a supposedly impartial prefect, don't you think?"

"I suppose I've learned a thing or two from the Marauders about extralegal punishment and when it's merited," replied Ariadne, smiling at him slyly as she finished her drink.

Sirius lightly placed a finger under her chin to tilt her face toward him, so quickly that Ariadne didn't have time to react. "You're beautiful when you smile, Ariadne Morrigan." Not missing a beat, he pointed to her empty glass. "May I replenish that for you?" Ariadne handed him the glass and he vanished in the crowd, moving toward the drinks table.

Ariadne was trying to process what had just happened when a female voice appeared next to her ear. "Magical Halloween, Ariadne Morrigan," it murmured. She whipped around to find the source, but no one seemed to be there.

"I'm not in the mood for any of your tricks tonight, James," said Ariadne.

The voice cackled faintly, as if coming from very far away. Ariadne turned again and came face-to-face with a young woman, whose pale blonde hair flowed out from under her black mask, decorated with white in the pattern of a skull. "I do hope you've enjoyed your time at playing Auror with your friends, Ariadne. It's shortly about to come to an end."

"And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?" asked Ariadne coolly.

The woman didn't answer her question. "Do you like my mask, Ariadne?"

"I know I'm supposed to be polite to strangers, but not particularly," responded Ariadne.

The woman laughed again, quietly. "Good. You're about to see a lot more of it."

"What House do you belong to?" asked Ariadne, with growing concern.

"The plans of our Dark Lord are much bigger than any arbitrary club for schoolchildren, Ariadne," said the young woman silkily. "You'll understand that before the night is over."

"As a prefect of Gryffindor House, I demand that you reveal your identity, on penalty of punishment by your head of House," Ariadne attempted desperately.

The blonde woman laughed one more time and slipped into the cover of a cloud of fog.

Ariadne attempted to follow her, but the fog and the crowd were much too thick. She was now searching for Sirius's tall, familiar frame when another voice spoke in her ear.

"Convenient, isn't it?"

Ariadne turned and almost collided with another face hidden by a skull mask, this time a man's. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"Everyone masked, multiple Houses mingling together, smoke and fog…each person's identity a secret. It's so convenient," he continued as if he hadn't heard her.

Ariadne reached for her wand, but the masked man had disappeared, almost supernaturally quickly. Disoriented and worried, Ariadne started and almost cast a hex when yet another voice issued into her ear.

"Where did you disappear to, Morrigan?"

Ariadne sighed in relief when Sirius's slightly concerned mouth and unmistakable shaggy black hair came into focus. "Sirius, something is wrong."

Sirius's frown deepened. "What's going on?"

Ariadne glanced around, as if expecting the blonde woman or the skull-masked man to reappear. "Let me tell you somewhere we won't be overheard."