Two days later we were at breakfast —a bright, sunny morning in the Great Hall— when Adrian Pucey, our third year housemate, informed us that Slytherin and Hufflepuff were now at war.
"They're saying someone in our house attacked one of their first years," he explained, eyeing Crabbe and Goyle. "Seems like Peeves saw it all. Not enough to tell who, only that it was a Slytherin."
"That bloody ghost?" replied Malfoy. "Please, he would spin any tale just to stir up trouble! I don't know how they believe him at all..."
I remained silent while Draco protested the injustice of it all, which had the unintended —but very welcome— effect of convincing everyone in hearing range that either he or one of his two gorillas were behind it all. But I also tried not to look too disinterested, either: Zabini was quick enough that he would put two and two together if given a chance, and I didn't even want to turn my gaze towards him lest that would give the truth away. He already knew too much for my liking.
Not for the first time, I wished the Sorting Hat would die a painful death; devoured by moths, hopefully. Because it was stressful as hell, being in Slytherin.
"Right you are," said Pucey. "If you ask me, they shouldn't trust his word. But whatever the case, they do, and they are aiming to have a go at us. So keep your eyes open, will you lot? Stick together, don't walk the corridors on your own... that sort of thing."
We all turned our heads to look at the Hufflepuff table at that, which pretty much radiated hostility —the students, not the table. A wall of burrowed frowns and cold stares, all of them aimed at us. And now that I thought about it, the Gryffindors didn't look too happy to see us either.
Oh yeah, because Hopkins' brother was a Gryffindor, wasn't he? Right, right. One stone, two birds. Awesome work, Sylvia; simply beautiful.
My first year housemates seemed slightly worried at the sight. Which was funny in a sense, because the Slytherins had a way of always considering themselves superior to the Hufflepuffs, which they took as the softest house of them all. But in truth every house had the potential to be dangerous if provoked, and the badgers were not an exception. So to see my housemates now worried at whatever revenge they were plotting over there seemed like karmic retribution.
Except that, you know, I was a Slytherin too.
I took a bite out of my soggy toast —too much jam, too little Plixiette— while I pondered about the risks. But there was nothing to it, really. In the end I simply had to shrug it off. I was already living on borrowed time, so to speak, with Selwyn's inevitable revenge against me still pending, and by this point I was pretty accustomed to keeping an eye out for sudden threats, shadows that weren't shadows and that kind of stuff. It's not paranoia if they're really out to get you, right? So I'd just... keep doing the same thing I'd been doing so far, but even more so.
Besides, it's not like the houses ever went to actual war, really, with soldiers and battlefronts and all the rest. Not as such. It was just Hogwarts' jargon for when the tempers ran too heated. It would pass in a week or two, was my guess.
But the others didn't seem to take this new state of things with as much nonchalance —and shall we say, resigned elegance— as me, and for the rest of the day the Slytherin first years went everywhere together and as a squad —one that, somehow, I ended up at the front of time and time again; not so much because I'd decided to walk ahead myself, but because being the best in our Defence class didn't come without its downsides, it seemed.
The Hufflepuffs opted to bide their time, in the end, and the day went by without surprises. Which was a good strategy on their part, because by the next day our excess of caution was already starting to vanish, and our solid group became much more gaseous as people drifted forth and back, focused in their conversations, books and whatever.
I was heading towards Potions with Tracey, followed shortly by Malfoy, Greengrass and Goyle —Draco telling us of his planned travels for Summer, which was already nearing— when I saw the movement behind the stone statue of some old wizard reading a parchment.
"Protego!" I shouted instinctively, my wand all but leaping into my hand with the practised motion. Just in time, thankfully, because whatever jinx they'd just shot our way crashed right into the impregnable bubble of my shield, in a shower of colourful sparks of magic.
My heart beat fast, still trying to come to grips with the sudden attack —who was it? The Hufflepuffs? The Gryffindors? Selwyn? Shit... Quirrell? No, it had to be the Hufflepuffs, right?— but I was glad to see Tracey also had her own wand out and was stepping by my side, her face focused.
Except that, if I were the one to plan an ambush, I would make sure to put...
"Tracey, behind us!" I shouted.
"Yes!"
She turned, but it was already too late. I heard the zap of a spell, and the flump of a body falling to the floor right behind me. I was tempted to turn and look myself, see who in our group had just been hit, but the enemy ahead kept sending bolts of magic at me that I was still parrying with my shield, my arm jerking back hard with each hit, my muscles starting to protest.
"What–? Goyle!" said Draco, answering that particular question for me.
"We're too exposed here!" said Tracey. To me, probably, because judging from the lack of sounds, my guess was that both Malfoy and Greengrass still had their wands safely tucked inside their pockets, and were standing idle in the middle of the firefight like two mannequins from the Room of Requirement.
And she was right, Tracey: we were caught flat-footed, right in the middle of a wide corridor, while our enemies covered behind the statues and corners at both ends. They had us in full sight, and yet I didn't even know how many of them there were. The only thing I could see of them was a single hand aiming a wand at me, and shooting spell after spell.
Which was yet another problem: I couldn't go in the offensive as long as I needed to keep the shield alive.
"Right!" I said. "Run to that door to the left, everyone! I'll keep the shield and cover you. Then you give me cover fire."
I had enough rapport with Tracey from several months of practising spells that I trusted her to listen and do as told. She all but grabbed both pure-bloods by their robes, and dragged them all towards the door. I heard a quick 'Alohomora', and then she said: "It's just one of Filch's closets, Sylvia! We can't hide in here!"
"Shit! Cover me!" I shouted, with a hint of nervousness in my voice. With them gone, my shield was getting pelted from both sides now, and I could see cracks and fracture lines emerging on its surface.
She leaned out of the door enough to send a couple of stinging jinxes forth and back, and I took the chance to drop the shield and rush to the door myself, crouching down as much as I could, as if I was in a war movie or something. And, with bolts of light buzzing right over my head and crashing into the walls, it wasn't too far from the truth.
I joined the others inside the closet, which was barely a narrow hole in the wall with enough space for some buckets and mops and a couple of old dusty paintings leaning on their side. One of them was of an ugly woman who looked at us with a rictus of annoyance —or perhaps it was a splotch of damaged paint, I wasn't sure. It was barely room enough to fit all of us, but with a little pressure I managed to get inside.
"This is a dead-end!" protested Draco, scrunched up against the closet's inner wall. At last he had remembered he was a wizard and was now wielding his wand. "Don't tell me you've gotten us trapped in a cupboard, Sarramond!"
"Uhm."
"And what about Goyle? He's still out there!"
Shit, I'd forgotten about him! I turned to look at the corridor outside; Goyle was laying flat on the floor, right smack in the middle of the corridor. Or at least, who I thought was probably Goyle, because I could only see his feet poking out the end of his robes.
"... he'll be all right," I said.
The rain of spells had ceased, at least; but I didn't believe even for a second that it would be safe to come out. They were probably still huddling out there, waiting for us to poke our heads.
"Do you... have a plan?" asked Greengrass, her face pallid.
"Uhm."
"Oh, this is great! Just great! Wait until my father hears–"
"Shut up, Malfoy! Let me think!"
We were certainly in a bad spot. Yes, they couldn't throw anything at us while we were squirrelled away in here, but there were still any number of things they could do to force us out and shoot us down one by one. A simple stink pellet in here and we'd probably have no choice but to try and escape if we wanted to be able to breathe.
And speaking of stink pellets: I ran a quick inventory of the contents of my pockets.
"Bloody hell. I'm all out of Peruvian darkness powder." I looked at Tracy. "Do you still have any?"
She shook her head, and I gazed at the heir and heiress: "What about you?"
"Peruvian... powder? What is that?" asked Daphne.
Draco replied: "It's one of those Weasley joke things, isn't it? Why would we have it?"
He was wrong; it was Zonko's that sold those. The Weasleys had simply cornered the market within Hogwarts. But since I wasn't Hermione, I didn't feel the need to explain the inner workings of the school's black market on forbidden magical products at quite this precise moment.
"Well, because it would be bloody useful right about now," I answered, trying to think of an alternative. Sectumsempra was there, of course; but I wasn't willing to cross that line quite yet, not for something stupid like this. "Do any of you know the Smokescreen charm, then?"
It was a stupid question, because of course they didn't, it being taught at third year. But sometimes the kids raised in the Wizarding World had learnt the odd weird spell here and there from their parents or something. Hadn't Malfoy known 'Serpensortia' in the books? That one certainly wasn't in our schoolbooks, and was probably more of a my-father-is-a-raging-Slytherin-fanatic kind of situation.
"We could make some noise?" suggested Tracey. "A teacher or prefect will have to hear us at some point and come see what the ruckus is."
Hmm... maybe. But it would take some time, depending a lot on pure chance; and I didn't think we'd last that long hiding here. And that was, if they didn't think to cast a silencing charm on us or something.
"No time. I think we have to rush them," I said with a sigh.
Daphne asked: "What do you mean?"
"We jump out and charge full speed towards the one to the left; at least I think it's only one of them there. I will cast a shield charm, and the rest of you just drown the twat in as many jinxes as you can."
Both Greengrass and Malfoy looked positively livid at me. Tracey, though, seemed to be considering the idea. She asked: "Won't that leave our backs exposed to the others?"
And she was right, damn. I bit my lip and thought some more.
"Change of plan, then: one of us is going to have to stay behind, shoot at the other side to cover the rest of us while we charge," I answered.
"I can do that," said Draco, somewhat relieved.
"Good. Then, after we win, we cover you while you come meet us, and then we all run away. That's a plan, then."
"What about Goyle? Will we leave him behind?" asked Draco.
Shit, I knew I was forgetting about something.
"Hmm... do you know how to cast 'Levicorpus'?"
"No. Do you?"
"Not yet. So you'll have to carry him yourself, then, over your shoulder or something."
"W– what? Have your lost your mind, Sarramond?!"
"It's either that or leaving him behind!" said Tracey.
"Your choice, really," I confirmed, crossing my arms and staring him down. He looked haughty at me for a moment, then at the body outside, guilt crossing his face. It was obvious what his choice would be.
"Good, that's settled, then," I said. "Let's do this. Tracey, Greengrass, stay close to me so that the shield can cover both of you. Malfoy, you shoot to the right the moment we start running, got it? Good... three, two, one, NOW! Protego!"
I didn't wait to see if they followed me —couldn't wait, really, or I'd had left both of them defenceless if it turned out they had indeed followed me— so I just rushed out of the cupboard, wand in front and charged along the corridor. My shield was immediately pelted by a barrage of spells coming from the soon to be unconscious idiot in front, a barrage that was quickly answered by flying bolts of magic coming from right behind me, forcing the enemy to hide again.
So, they had charged along with me, the two girls. And since I was still running forward and not snoring on the floor like Goyle, I guessed Draco had come through too and was keeping the other attackers busy. Otherwise this was going to end very quickly for us.
We turned the corner as a group to see a second year Hufflepuff facing us. A boy on the short side who had already retreated a few steps away and was waiting for us, because he shot some kind of nasty hex aimed right at my face; it crashed on the shield, dispelling it, but at least it didn't connect with me.
And not a moment later, a 'Petrificus Totalus' from Tracey and a 'Depulso' from Greengrass put a swift and somewhat violent end to his threat.
"Quick!" said Tracey. "We have to help Malfoy!"
"Do we, really?" I muttered, but I duly followed her, leaning around the corner to throw a few stinging jinxes —which weren't too effective in a real skirmish, but I only wanted to give some cover to the blond prat, and they didn't require as much focus and mental energy as actual duelling spells did.
It did the trick good enough, and Draco ran out of the cupboard to join the rest of us; leaving Goyle's body all alone in the middle of the corridor, as I expected. In his face I could see the doubt and guilt fighting against his self-preservation instinct.
And the moment the cowardice won, because he turned and ordered: "Very well. Let's... find a Prefect now, yes!"
And with that, he left the three of us girls behind as he headed fast towards the staircase visible at the other end of the corridor. We looked at each other for a few moments of doubt, when we considered whether to stay and defend Goyle or follow him... and then... we followed him.
Because of course we did. We weren't Gryffindors, after all, with their sense of honour and rightness. Goyle's ally and superior in the all important status hierarchy was Malfoy, so he was the one who was supposed to defend him. And so if he abandoned his charge, none of us were expected to step up.
Which wasn't to say we couldn't —and that would have been a brilliant move, if any of us had wanted to snatch one of Malfoy's allies from right under his nose. But one: that required defeating the other two or possibly three attackers; and two: it was Goyle, so not exactly prime material. Malfoy could keep him.
We found a Ravenclaw Prefect boy a couple of floors down, and Malfoy returned with him to the place of the ambush, the rest of us heading down to Potions. The skirmish had been, all things considered, a definitive victory for me —escaping unscathed— but it still left a bad taste in my mouth: the Shield charm was all well and good, but I felt a bit lacking on the offence department.
There was my bread and butter —spells such as 'Depulso' or the full body-bind curse— but those required line of sight. And Duskhaven's book had explicitly warned against the over-reliance on spells that all shared a similar limitation. It was better to keep a more varied arsenal so that you could reply to many different situations.
I also lacked a middle ground, something that I could use when a simple 'Depulso' wasn't quite enough, but that wasn't the lethal dark magic powerhouse that 'Sectumsempra' was. I had my eyes set on the Disarming charm —Potter had made good use of that one, according to my fore-memories— and the Stunning charm; though that last one was a little beyond my current level.
It was a bit too much, to be quite frank, despite my being a genius and precocious bright thing: learning spells still took its good time, and I also had to learn the ones required for class. For example, Professor McGonagall had us learning a colour change charm now, which I guessed was fine and probably useful, but it was quite tricky to match the exact hues from the work sheets; and she had warned us it would be in our exams. Plus I also had to do all my homework.
At least I wouldn't need to spend anymore time practising sleigh of hand, so there was that.
Our Potions class was tense that day, even more than usual with the Gryffindors and Slytherins in the same room. Apparently the lions had heard about Hopkins' attack through the school grapevine, and now looked at us like we were all collectively guilty.
Hermione was predictably cold. She'd missed all other sessions of the Read-Ahead Club after our detention with Hagrid, and I guessed this new thing would only make her even more hostile towards me. Which I guessed I deserved this time, but still, she didn't know it had been me, so it was all prejudice. She might have been right, but for the wrong reasons!
We were supposed to have another club meeting later that same day, in fact; but I wasn't feeling like making another attempt at building bridges, so I didn't even mention it during class, focusing on the brewing and taking notes of the process in my book instead. I doubted any tries at convincing her I wasn't a devil incarnate would work, anyhow, with her now having Weasley and Potter as friends and so not being so desperate to be included by other students. It was time to acknowledge that it was all in ruins, my plan of befriending the Trio; and it was all Selwyn's fault.
And in case I had any doubt, that afternoon I really discovered the depths to which my designs had been utterly washed aside by the recent events. Because when I went to the Library for the meeting, our usual table was empty.
Which wasn't all that surprising —Hermione had been the one to arrive first most of the times— but it did seem a little worrying, in an uncertain sort of way. I paced a little, eyeing the bookstacks that surrounded me. I knew I was sort of exposed just waiting there on my own, but my wand was in my hand, and I doubted anybody would be so out of their mind and suicidal enough to stir up trouble smack in the middle of Madam Pince's hunting grounds.
Minutes passed, and nobody arrived. I wasn't expecting for Bones —she was a Hufflepuff after all— but the absence of the Ravenclaws did hurt a little. Eventually I tired of it, picked a book at random out of the bookstacks surrounding us, checked the chairs were clean of surprises and sat down at last.
But I was too wired up to read, it seemed. So I simply stared at its cover without paying attention at the words written on it. It took maybe five more minutes of silent meditation for Michael Corner to appear, on his own. He looked at me with a nervous expression, and I just had to sigh.
"Just spit it out," I said.
"Yeah, sorry... with all the... you know. We heard Bones wasn't going to come, and also without Granger... well..."
"Right. I get it."
He fidgeted in place. "It was a good idea, really... but..."
"Sure. Don't worry."
"Yes. So... I'll... see you around?"
"Yeah, see you."
He walked away, looking almost lighter with every step that took him away from our table.
My table, now, I guessed. I hit the book on it with my forehead and groaned.
Goodbye, Read-Ahead Club; you were too good for this cruel, hateful world.
I opened the book almost out of spite —so that the trip to the Library wouldn't feel like a complete waste— and began reading; but here too I was betrayed: it turned out to be a compendium of magical plants and herbs from the coastal regions of South America, with detailed diagrams of their stamens, buds and roots.
I snapped it close after just five paragraphs. And to think that some random witch had gone through a Hogwarts education, through a mentorship afterwards, all to spend... what? One to five bloody years of their life writing this? Of all the things you could do with magic at your fingertips, and you chose writing books about plants?
Ugh. Magic was wasted on some people.
I decided to leave, then. I was too unfocused to work on my homework, and I wasn't really feeling safe on my own. In fact, I had counted with the Ravenclaws' presence to shield me against attacks —from either the house of the badgers, or the psychopaths in mine— and their betrayal meant I had to make the whole way down to the dungeons on my own, tense and with my wand ready to start shooting spells at a moment's notice.
But I wasn't attacked, and I entered the Slytherin common room to discover that most of my house —at least, the lower years— had decided to take refuge here as well. Perhaps they'd taken a look to Goyle's face —completely swollen out of proportion, his eyes barely two pinpricks in a mountain of flesh— and decided not to risk it.
I took a few tentative steps, as if admiring the art and decorations, letting the soft indistinct conversations wash over me. And when nobody turned to give me the stink eye, I started to relax at last.
Funny, that the common room was now among the safest places in Hogwarts for me to be at, now that my status problem was fixed. Because Selwyn and Burke couldn't really act against me publicly, not here; and there was a welcomed lack of badgers around these parts.
I looked around to see if Tracey Davis was here, and found her sitting on a couch right next to Perks, and across from Daphne Greengrass. Between them there was a little tea table covered in magazines, with some cutlery and a steaming teapot.
Greengrass rose her gaze to look at me and said aloud —loud enough that everyone in the common room would hear it— "Would you care to join us, Sarramond?"
Which made my eyebrows migrate well into my forehead, and I was frozen by a moment of sudden and confused uncertainty before Tracey leant over to grab my arm, and all but dragged me into the empty seat next to her.
She nodded at me —Daphne— and resumed her conversation, as if my presence among them was an everyday occurrence. They kept talking about mundane topics: the upcoming exams and Professor Sprout's lack of control over her house, in particular. Myself, I was feeling a bit speechless, a bit out of place. Not sure if this was Greengrass just being gracious to me —perhaps as a way of thanking me for saving her hide earlier, or of apologising for how she hadn't wanted to be seen next to me all these months— or if there was a deeper meaning. Was she making a public statement? Claiming me as part of her circle?
Oh, there were circles. That was one of the things I'd learnt about Slytherin: they weren't cliques, no sir; they were called circles.
Perks leaned to grab a delicate porcelain cup from the table —black and with gold trimmings that I somehow doubted were merely yellow paint— and Daphne snapped straight out of the sudden.
"Oh, please forgive me," she said to me, reaching for an empty cup and placing it next to my side of the table. "Where are my manners! Please, serve yourself a cup of tea; it's an All-Brews Teapot."
"A what?"
"A gift from my mother, for Yule. You simply need to touch the teapot with your wand and speak the name of the brew you prefer. Like this: Ceylon," she demonstrated, refilling her own cup before handing me the teacup.
I produced my wand, placing the tip against the smooth porcelain.
"Uhm... any kind of brew?"
She looked at me with sudden worry: "Within reason."
Oh. Okay.
I nodded and thought for a beat, then spoke: "Jardin Bleu," and started pouring. The fruit-flavoured smell was overpowering, making me salivate.
"I'll have to try that one next," said Perks, eyeing my cup with visible envy.
"It's probably just another one of her French abominations," commented Tracey, without malice. "But this time is even worse: tea is a British invention, you see. There's no need to innovate on what is already perfectly good."
"I find your lack of taste disturbing," I mumbled, sipping on my cup as I folded my legs under my body, in an as un-lady-like posture as the chair allowed.
The three girls all looked at me oddly, none of them catching the reference.
"Oh God; remind me to drag all of you into the cinema as soon as I get the chance. You are so in need of a pop culture crash course."
Daphne looked uncomfortable, and Perks eyed me like it was me who was being unreasonably uncultured here.
"Just a Muggle thing," I shrugged. "Nevermind. So, how does the teapot work? Is it enchanted? A transfiguration charm? Some sort of potion thing?"
Tracey groaned and said: "Please don't, I'm begging you. We were just done reviewing for the Potions exam. You'll get Daphne started again, and I simply can't take any more 'Laws of Essential Diffusion' or 'Theorems of Swirling'."
"...or Multi-ingredient Physics," said Perks.
"...or Fluid Stabilization," said Tracey, smiling.
"Polymorphic Heating!" replied Perks.
"Synergic–!"
"You should be thankful that at least I like Professor Snape's class," interrupted Daphne. "Sylvia: it's enchanted, but it's not a transfiguration charm; it uses a special sort of tea leaves that can adapt their flavour. Similar to a potion, yes, but the formula is secret. The only shop that sells them is Bristlecone's Brewed Blessings, in Horizont Alley."
"Hmm... that sounds like the perfect business plan," I mused aloud. "They could even give out those teapots for free, then charge for the leaves as much as they wish for; because once you get a teapot, you become a captive customer, if you have to go to them for–"
"Sylvia has a mind for business," said Tracey. "She's always talking about how her inversions will make her rich."
"Investments."
"Right, investments! In the Muggle Stock Change."
"Exchange. But it is a good plan, the teapot. It's the same thing that Muggles do with printers."
"What's a printer?" asked Perks.
Oh God.
"It's a... a machine that prints words into pieces of paper," I explained. "So that they don't need to write them down themselves by hand."
"So like your Self-Writing Quill?" asked Tracey.
I tilted my hand. "Hmm... yeah, sort of. But the key point is, they use a special ink. So what they do is they sell you the printer itself very cheap, but then the ink is through the roof. The Muggles even have this joke that printer ink is more expensive that unico– uhm... I mean, it's very expensive."
"It must be so odd, doing things without magic," commented Daphne idly. "I read the book that you gifted me for Yule, 'Bridge to Terabithia' and it made me quite curious about the Muggle way of life; but I must admit it was difficult at times to understand what they were referring to. I know what a car is, of course, but when they used words like 'phone' or 'television' I was a little lost."
"Oh, I know those!" said Tracey. "A phone is like a Floo, but you can only hear people and not see them or walk through. And a television is also like a Floo, but you can only see and hear people you don't know, and the other people don't hear or see you."
Both Perks and Greengrass looked confused at Tracey, then at me.
I shrugged and said: "Hey, do you have a list of words you didn't understand? We could work through them together if you are curious. Did you like the book, at least?"
Daphne's face adopted a haunted expression. "I did. But it was... hmm..."
"Traumatizing?"
"Wait, you knew?!"
I gave her a guilty shrug. "But it's a good book, no?"
She nodded at that. And if it taught the pure-blood magical princess that Muggles were people too, and helped her empathise with them... well, there was nothing wrong with her crying a little over a fictional girl, now was it?
The conversation veered after that to the nearing Summer break, and what the girls' plans were for those. Which again exposed me as the odd one out, given that my plan could be summed up as simply 'staying put at the Residence', rather than travelling anywhere exotic or visiting family like the others. But at least they humoured me asking questions about how orphan Muggle life was like, if only out of pure morbid fascination.
And it felt good, being accepted by the group of girls at last, the four of us wearing our identical silver robe brooches. It felt good, not being the outcast anymore —even despite what I'd had to do to poor Wayne Hopkins— and being able to think about mundane things, things other than what Selwyn and Burke would be planning to do, what would happen with Quirrell, or what the fuck was wrong with my blood.
I was discerning enough to realise that Tracey wasn't new to this, though. She looked too comfortable, too at ease for that. Which meant that she probably had been sitting at the heiress' table for months by now —this was probably what she did while I was at the Read-Ahead Club meetings, I guessed. And that realisation, it explained a couple of things to me: such as her subtle influence being the most likely reason that Daphne Greengrass was willing to be friendly to me in the first place. Tracey had been stacking the deck in my favour all this time.
Hmm... I'd need to figure out a better gift for her, next time around. Her birthday was in June, I remembered.
The arrival of Prefect Farley put my thoughts back on my still unsolved problems, and I excused myself to rush and intercept her before she could join her own friends.
"Prefect Farley!" I said, beaming at her.
She looked down at me and crosses her arms, asking in a tired tone: "What is it now, Sarramond? Please make it quick; this was a complicated day already, having to deal with the Hufflepuffs and all."
"Right. Uhm. So, just a quick question: what would be the consequences if a student was found with, say... a Class A non-tradeable material in their possession? Would they be expelled?"
She tilted her head, frowning at me: "Asking for anybody in particular? Yourself, maybe?"
"Just humour me, please?"
She let out a deep sigh. "Well... I'm not entirely sure. It would go beyond breaking a school rule: it is a crime, you know. So the Ministry would be involved, and... whoever this is would be arrested and questioned at the very least. After that, they might be suspended from Hogwarts until there is a disciplinary hearing; but that really depends on how forgiving the Headmaster feels that day. So if it's a Gryffindor, probably just some detention."
"And if it's a blood prejudiced Slytherin, with nebulous sympathies to former Death Eaters?"
She paused at that. "What are you implying here, Sarramond?"
I shot her a predatory grin, wiggling my eyebrows. "Say, Farley... would you like to get rid of Selwyn once and for all?"