Chapter 17: A quiet rescue
The morning of the Quidditch final arrived with a feverish energy that seemed to pulse through the very walls of Hogwarts. The rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor was legendary, and the anticipation was nearly tangible. Students bustled through the halls, their scarves flapping, banners waving in green and silver, red and gold.
Ava, for once, felt herself caught up in the excitement. As Head of Slytherin, her duties on such days required her presence and composure, but today—today felt different.
Her magic had begun to return, subtly but surely. Simple charms worked with her wand again, faint traces of the control she thought she'd lost. This shift had lightened something inside her, though she'd never admit it out loud.
The stands around the Quidditch pitch roared with cheers as the teams took to the skies. The Gryffindor team, clad in crimson robes, were greeted with deafening applause, while Slytherin supporters waved silver banners proudly, their chants echoing off the hills.
Ava stood near the staff section with her arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as the Slytherin Seeker zoomed past. For all her restraint, her pulse quickened with every goal Slytherin scored. She hadn't felt this alive in months—her magic humming faintly in her fingertips, the crowd's energy infectious.
She glanced toward the stands, instinctively looking for Juniper. Where is she?
The thought lingered, breaking her focus for a moment. Juniper hadn't been at breakfast, nor had Ava seen her all morning.
She wouldn't miss this, Ava thought, frowning faintly.
A loud cheer erupted as Slytherin scored again, pushing their lead to thirty points. For a split second, Ava felt the urge to turn to Juniper—to share the victory with her, to see her green eyes alight with humor and excitement.
But Juniper wasn't there.
Her gaze darted toward the castle in the distance, unease curling in her stomach. She remembered Juniper mentioning something about a new batch of venomous herbs in the greenhouses—plants that, if handled improperly, could be dangerous even for someone as skilled as her.
Ava's heels clicked against the stone path as she made her way to the greenhouses, the noise of the match fading behind her. The air here was still, unnaturally so, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves.
She pushed open the door to Greenhouse Three, where Juniper often worked with the more temperamental plants. The humidity hit her immediately, along with the faint tang of something sharp—almost metallic—in the air.
"Juniper?" Ava called, her voice steady but sharp. "Are you in here?"
There was no response.
She moved deeper into the greenhouse, her sharp eyes scanning rows of plants twisting toward the light. Then she saw her.
Juniper lay sprawled near a table of potted herbs, her face pale, her breathing faint and uneven. The plants around her—a mix of Venomous Tentacula and Serpent's Vine—seemed to pulse, their leaves curling in unsettling patterns.
"Juniper!"
Ava was at her side in an instant, dropping to her knees. Her heart pounded as she brushed red hair from Juniper's face, her skin clammy to the touch. "What were you thinking?" she murmured, though her voice trembled.
With her wand, Ava performed a quick diagnostic spell. The results were clear: Juniper had been exposed to a toxin. The plants—potent even for an expert—must have released a dangerous vapor when disturbed.
Taking a steady breath, she braced herself, the familiar weight of fatigue already pressing against her. She could feel the tug of her magic, fragile but determined, as she raised her wand. Her voice, clear yet hushed as though sharing a secret with the air itself, pronounced the spell.
"Expecto Patronum."
The words left her lips with more strength than she expected, and to her relief, a faint silvery glow erupted from her wand. A shadowy, incomplete form—a fox—darted forward just enough to reach the castle. It's working, Ava thought, though her magic wavered immediately. She watched the creature quickly leave through the Greenhouse door to find help.
"Hold on, Juniper," she whispered, her hand still resting on Juniper's shoulder. "Help is coming."
When Juniper woke, the first thing she saw was the golden light spilling through the infirmary windows. Her head ached dully, but her body felt heavier than she remembered.
"Aren't you a sight."
The voice came softly from her side. Juniper blinked, turning her head just enough to see Ava seated beside her bed. Her dark robes looked slightly disheveled, her face shadowed with exhaustion—but her dark eyes were steady.
"What happened?" Juniper rasped, her throat dry.
Ava's lips pressed into a thin line. "The venomous herbs you were working with. The vapors might have overwhelmed you." She hesitated, her voice softening. "I found you in the greenhouse."
Juniper frowned faintly, trying to piece it together. "The Tentacula… I think I misjudged how mature it was."
"You think?" Ava shot back, though her tone held no sharpness—only a thin layer of exasperation. "You could've died, Juniper."
Juniper blinked at the rawness in Ava's voice, her chest tightening faintly. "But I didn't."
Ava's expression softened slightly, though she looked away as though collecting herself. "No. You didn't."
For a moment, the two sat in silence. Juniper's gaze lingered on Ava—on her hands curled in her lap, on the faint tension still etched into her features.
"You stayed," Juniper murmured finally.
Ava looked at her, her brow furrowing faintly. "Of course I did."
Juniper smiled faintly, her voice no more than a whisper. "Thank you, Ava."
Ava's gaze softened, her hand hovering briefly over Juniper's before she pulled back. The urge to lean closer, to brush her thumb over Juniper's face, was almost overwhelming, but she couldn't.
Not here. Not yet.
"Rest," Ava said quietly, standing. "I'll check on you later."
Ava's steps echoed through the quiet corridor as she approached the Headmaster's office, each one heavier than the last. She hadn't prepared a speech—words seemed to abandon her when it mattered most—but she knew this conversation couldn't wait any longer.
The door creaked softly as she pushed it open, revealing Headmaster Stonemire seated behind his desk. His quill hovered momentarily above a parchment before he set it down, his sharp gaze meeting hers with calm curiosity.
"Professor Blackthorn," Stonemire greeted, his voice warm but measured. "To what do I owe this visit?"
Ava hesitated briefly at the threshold, inhaling deeply to steady herself. "Headmaster… I need to speak with you about something personal."
Stonemire studied her for a long moment before gesturing for her to enter. "Very well. Come in, Ava."
She stepped forward, her usual poise tempered by the tension in her shoulders. Despite his gesture toward the chair across from him, she remained standing, her hands curling slightly at her sides.
"It's about Professor Merriweather," Ava began, her voice steady but quieter than usual, as though choosing each word carefully.
Stonemire's brow arched faintly, though the rest of his face remained unreadable. "Go on."
Ava swallowed hard. "Juniper and I… we've grown close." She exhaled, trying to quell the unease bubbling in her chest. "I thought you should hear it from me. I respect this school, its rules, and my responsibilities as a professor—" she faltered, her dark gaze meeting his steady one, "—but I won't hide the truth."
The room was silent for a beat, save for the faint crackle of the fire in the corner. Stonemire leaned back in his chair, his fingers lacing together atop the desk as he regarded her carefully.
"Ava," he said finally, his tone softer than she expected, "you are one of the most responsible individuals I have had the privilege to know. You put duty above all else, even when it asks far too much of you."
Ava blinked, taken aback.
"Take the Ministry task earlier this year," Stonemire continued, his gaze unwavering. "You faced danger that no one else could—or would. Not for glory, but because it was the right thing to do."
Ava felt her throat tighten as the memory flickered in her mind.
The headmaster's expression shifted, a knowing glint in his eyes now. "But," he said quietly, "life is more than duty. There is magic far greater than what we teach in these halls, and it is found in the people we choose to let close."
Ava looked at him sharply, her composure cracking just slightly. "You knew?"
Stonemire's lips curved into a faint, kind smile. "Hogwarts has many secrets, Ava. I do my best to keep up with most of them."
Ava didn't know whether to feel relieved or embarrassed, so she simply stared.
"If you've found something—someone—who brings you that kind of magic, don't let fear hold you back." Stonemire leaned forward slightly, his voice steady. "The world will take enough from you without your permission. Don't be the one who denies yourself what matters."
Ava exhaled softly, his words settling over her like a weight and a release all at once. "Thank you, Headmaster."
"I trust you and Professor Merriweather to navigate this with the same care and thoughtfulness you show in your work," Stonemire said calmly. "But rest assured, there's nothing to repreend here. This is Hogwarts, after all—not Azkaban. Now, unless there's anything else?"
Ava straightened, her resolve firmer now. "No, Headmaster. That's all."
"Good," Stonemire said, reaching for his quill again. "Now go, Professor. I believe you have someone waiting for you."
Ava turned toward the door, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. For once, she didn't feel the urge to walk briskly or disappear into the shadows of the corridors.
As she stepped back into the quiet of the hall, Stonemire's words lingered with her. And for the first time that day, Ava let herself smile, too.