A/N: This chapter (and the following one) are at the halfway point for Year One! From now on, the pace is going to be quite a bit faster...
"ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪꜱ ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇɴᴍᴀʀᴋ." - ꜱʜᴀᴋᴇꜱᴘᴇᴀʀᴇ, ʜᴀᴍʟᴇᴛ
Chapter Sixteen: A Dose of Pessimism
It turned out that the Awful, Terrible, Very Bad Conversation with Professor Dumbledore had caused her to miss flying lessons.
But it didn't matter; Ruby was sure that she would be awful on a broom. One of her few 'incidents' with accidental magic had resulted in her ending up mysteriously on top of the school building.
It had not been a pleasant experience. The headmistress had to call the fire brigade, who then had to coax her down, like a cat who had gotten stuck up a tree. There had been a lot of screaming and crying, and Aunt Petunia was not happy.
Anyway, she much preferred having her feet on solid ground.
"He was brilliant!" said Ron as they filed into the Great Hall. "Malfoy had Neville's Remembrall, flew up and threw it—"
Anthony mimed throwing something, and Hermione shook her head.
"Honestly, he could have hurt himself!" she said. "He's never even been on a broom before!"
"And, then, I caught it!" said Harry excitedly. "I actually caught it, I don't know; I managed to do it, but I just did. And Professor McGonagall came out — I thought I was in trouble, she dragged me out of class and took me to see Oliver Wood, he's the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, and I'm Seeker—"
"I'm happy for you," said Ruby, plastering on a fake smile.
"Wait, where were you?" asked Ron. "Hermione said you went to Dumbledore's office. What happened?"
"Nothing," she said, wondering how Hermione had even found out about it, and Harry gave her a suspicious glance. "He just wanted to talk... about stuff."
To be honest, her mind was still racing. Gemma hadn't asked any questions, thankfully (she had already been talking to Professor Dumbledore about her, so perhaps they had some kind of arrangement not to talk about it, if she even knew), but Ruby hadn't thought about coming up with an appropriate lie.
Fortunately, she didn't have to because they were ordered to hurry up and sit down because the professors had an announcement to make. The doors shut with a heavy clang, and Ruby saw the scarlet-robed Aurors spread out along the walls, as silent as living statues.
Professor Snape looked as if he had swallowed a poker (well, even more than usual). Professor McGonagall looked particularly pinched. Professor Quirrell twitched nervously.
Chatter began to rise in the Great Hall.
"What d'you think it's about?" asked Blaise Zabini. "Is Hogwarts closing down?"
"Don't know, don't care, " said Pansy, tossing her hair and combing her fingers through nonexistent knots. "Hopefully, he'll explain why we've got to have all these stupid Aurors here."
"Have some respect, Parkinson," snapped Alastair. "You're embarrassing yourself."
Pansy sneered at him, but he simply shook his head.
Dumbledore, as usual, seemed utterly unaffected. His eyes glittered as he swept a discerning gaze over the entire Great Hall, and instantly, the room became quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
"I know," he began, "that the recent changes must make many of you feel anxious. Aurors watching your classes, Hogsmeade privileges being revoked... Each and every one of you has been stopped, doubtlessly several times, on your entrance to classes beginning this morning. And I believe that you have the right to know why. I assure you that this situation shall not be by any means permanent."
"What situation?" whispered Theodore, and several people shushed him.
"I believe that we have grown complacent in the belief that this castle can withstand all assault, that it is impervious to enemies. But that is simply not true. Once, there was a young man, who, like yourselves, sat in this very hall, walked this castle's corridor, and slept under this roof—"
"Who is he talking about?" whispered Ruby, and the shushing came again.
"The Dark Lord," Alastair whispered back. "Now pay attention."
But how does he know that?
Ruby looked up at Alastair, but his face was a mask of quiet respectfulness as he turned back towards Dumbledore.
"—a student, like any other. Today, he is known not by the name that his teachers and fellow students called him but by another. And that is why standing before you all tonight, I am reminded—"
Here, his gaze fell upon Ruby. She felt deeply unsettled, but all the same, could not look away.
"—every day, every hour; this very minute, perhaps, dark forces attempt to penetrate this castle's walls. And their greatest weapon... is you."
Me? But how can he be talking about me — I haven't done anything!
Evidently, she was not the only one who was confused because someone from Gryffindor House leapt to their feet, saying: "What do you mean, Professor Dumbledore?"
Several people (loudly) instructed them to sit down. Quirrell no longer looked nervous; a scheming expression had come over his face as he regarded Dumbledore carefully.
An uneasy feeling began to come over her. What was Quirrell looking so pleased about?
"The Heads of House and I have reason to believe that there is an imposter among us. Possibly, a servant of Lord Voldemort—"
The noise grew to deafening heights.
"Enough!"
"This is a suspicion," he said. "Not a fact."
"I discovered that a certain magical object guarded by this school has been tampered with..." Dumbledore could not hide the disapproval in his voice. "...defiled with Dark magic. It has since been sealed off, as not to infect the rest of the school. And so, until we can identify the source and reverse the enchantment, security measures will remain in place."
What kind of magic can infect things?
Ruby looked up and down the Slytherin table; she wasn't the only one who was alarmed.
Quirrell rose to his feet; the other professors looked surprised. Professor Sinistra, who was sitting next to him, exchanged a look with Professor McGonagall.
Even Professor Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.
"Quirinus," he said. There was a hint of sarcasm in his tone. "Do you have something to contribute?"
"Y-Yes," said Quirrell, smiling. "I do, Professor Dumbledore."
Dumbledore stepped away from the dais, but his eyes remained fixed on Quirrell. Suspicious. The same way he had looked at her in his office. Watching him for the slightest mistake. But why?
"D-Dear s-s-students," Quirrell began, looking out at all of them and smiling reassuringly — especially at Harry. "As the D-Defence Against the D-D-Dark Arts Professor, I will do my u-uh-utmost to f-f-find the culprit. I-In fact, I c-c-consider it a p-p-personal r-responsibility—"
"Poor Professor Quirrell," said Daphne, making a patronizingly-sympathetic face.
Malfoy snorted.
"r-responsibility to f-f-find the source of this s-s-security issue. I will be w-w-w-working closely with the Aurors—"
None of whom looked particularly happy about that.
"—and if a-a-any of your s-s-students feel s-s-something is off, p-please do not h-hesitate to alert me, even if you f-feel it is n-nothing of s-s-significance. As Auror M-Moody says—" He gestured to the gruff man that Ruby had met earlier, and smiled "—c-constant v-v-vigilance. If we w-work together, t-this p-p-problem may c-c-come to a swift resolution."
"Excellent. Thank you for your contribution, Quirinus," said Professor Dumbledore, though he did not look pleased and all but shooed Quirrell off of the dais. "Any questions? I wish to be as forthcoming as possible — Mr. Wood?"
Someone from the Gryffindor table had gotten up.
"Thank you for addressing our concerns, Professor Dumbledore," he said quickly. "Will Quidditch matches be cancelled?"
"No, not at this moment," said Dumbledore, looking a bit amused. Wood sat down with a relieved smile. "Anyone else?"
"Will the stops have to continue? Will we be searched, too?" asked another student, this time from Hufflepuff.
"I am afraid so, Miss Smith. I am aware that it is a great inconvenience, but we must leave no stone unturned. Anything could be a clue. I intend not to frighten or intimidate you but to protect you. I have the utmost trust in all of you."
And so, it went on, with Dumbledore giving what seemed like diplomatic and well-thought-out answers to the students' questions, always sounding reassuring and never revealing too much.
Ruby dashed over to the Gryffindor table before Dumbledore could dismiss all of them.
"That mirror's been tampered with," whispered Ruby. "Because when we were in there, there were all these funny drawings. I touched one — I think it was Dark magic, Harry. I bet it's locked if we go back to check."
"What mirror?" asked Hermione, frowning.
Harry explained quickly what had happened and how they'd found it.
"It's the Mirror of Erised," he said. "It came to me — in Quirrell's office. Maybe I read about it somewhere and forgot all about it until then."
Ruby doubted it. Maybe Quirrell being an imposter was a bit far-fetched, but he definitely knew something. And Dumbledore knew it, too.
"But who could have done something like that?" asked Hermione.
"Dunno," said Ron, "but I bet it's Snape. My dad always said he fancied Dark magic a bit too much."
Ruby followed his gaze up to the professors' table. Professor Snape was wearing his usual scowl, and though she didn't like him, either... would Snape, a stickler for the rules, really do something like that?
"But what have the drawings got to do with it?" asked Harry. He looked up at Ruby. "Could you draw them?"
"I think so," she said. The idea made her feel uneasy. Hermione fished a piece of parchment out of her bag, and Harry produced a pencil.
"Right. One was a circle, but it had eyes, like this." She clumsily drew the symbol as best as she could, though it turned out sort of lopsided. "I think it was eating itself. Like a snake, or something."
Ruby shut her eyes. The symbols were strangely not hard to recall; even though she had only seen them for a second, they seemed to have been burned into her memory.
"And then this." The universal symbol for female... "But it had a curl on top, too."
"Two triangles with the point facing up. A circle with a dot in the middle."
She frowned. The uneasy feeling was coming back. Maybe Ron was right about bad magic.
"A circle, inside a square, inside a triangle, inside a circle. That one looked kind of fresh. It was less faded than the others. Or maybe someone went over it."
"Then two wiggly lines, like water or something."
The five symbols lay scrawled on the page; grey, misshapen, and foreboding. The others looked uneasy, too.
"Maybe we should tell Quirrell," said Harry.
"No!" said Ruby. "Dumbledore doesn't trust him!"
"And how do you know that?" asked Hermione.
"I... I don't." Besides, he didn't trust her, either. "Fine. I'm just not stupid like some people are."
Harry flinched.
"Students, please follow your prefects to your dormitories," said Professor McGonagall.
"I should go," said Ruby, and in response to Harry offering her the drawings: "You can keep the parchment."
She couldn't help but add as she walked away, a bit nastily: "Maybe you can show it to Quirrell. Seeing as you don't think for yourself anymore."
As soon as she heard Harry's gasp, she instantly felt terrible. But instead of turning around and apologizing, she continued towards the Slytherin table.
I'll apologize later, she thought. But deep down, Ruby didn't know if she would get around to it.
Guilt settled over her like a black cloud during the slow walk down to the Slytherin Dungeon; heavy and bitter on her tongue.
She took refuge in her Charms homework, sitting in front of the fire, emptying the contents of her bag on the floor, and resigning herself to yet another sleepless night.
Ruby was used to guilt, anyway.
"This one is the Golden Snitch," said Oliver Wood as he released a tiny golden ball from the smallest compartment of the box. It had been overcast all day, and now Harry was standing out on the Quidditch pitch. To be honest, he hadn't been paying that much attention to Oliver's descriptions of the other balls.
Instead, Harry had been squinting up at the stands, which were completely bare right now, and the three golden hoops at each end of the pitch. He supposed that had it been a sunny day, they might have sparkled, but as it were, there was only a dull glitter.
"The Seeker — that means you, Harry," Oliver explained, "has got to catch this before the other team's Seeker does."
That didn't seem too hard. Harry watched the ball's silvery, feather-like wings (a curious addition) flutter in Oliver's grip. He was holding the golden, walnut-shaped ball firmly clasped between gloved forefinger and thumb.
"It's got a flesh memory," said Oliver as he released the Snitch, letting it flutter above them and then zip off to the other end of the pitch. "That means everyone who handles it — even the fellow who makes it — has got to use gloves, except the Seekers. But let's see how you do."
Harry nodded and mounted his broom. He took a deep breath (this was scarier when he actually thought about what he was doing) and kicked off.
And then, the cool breeze was blowing at his hair and his clothes, and all his troubles seemed to have been left on the ground, far below him as he climbed higher and higher, searching for a hint of gold.
It wasn't long before he saw it, sparkling in the fog, and instantly dove towards it, the wind streaming past him.
The Snitch, as if it had seen him coming, fled, and Harry gave chase, laughing.
He strained forward, and his fingers brushed the cool metal — the Snitch was in his hand.
"Keep your balance!" Oliver yelled from the ground; Harry hadn't realized that he was tipping to one side.
Carefully, he guided the broom back to the ground, still holding the Snitch.
"That was forty-seven seconds," said Oliver, looking at Harry with — was that — awe? No one had ever looked at him like that before. "You're faster than Diggory."
"Who's Diggory?" asked Harry, watching the Snitch flutter in his palm. He gently tossed it in the air, and it hovered a few inches above his hand.
"Hufflepuff Seeker," said Oliver. "Third-year. But we don't play them until March. Right now, we've got Slytherin to worry about; but I doubt Higgs will be much trouble for you if you keep that up. It's the Beaters we've got to worry about; we'll practice dodging with Fred and George next week."
"Oh."
He was better than a third-year at something?
Harry looked up at the Snitch floating in the air, its beating wings producing a low hum.
He grinned.
Maybe he wasn't useless at being a wizard after all...
Harry didn't tell anyone he was going to the library. Instead, he folded up the piece of paper in his pocket and went in search of books about weird symbols — runes — and anything about shadow magic.
Dark magic, he reminded himself. But Harry really didn't want to believe he was capable of such a thing.
Dark magic refers to any type of magic that is mainly used to cause harm to, exert control over, or even kill the victim, Hermione had said. Harry didn't want to do any of those things; he didn't want to hurt anyone.
But he needed to make sure it wouldn't happen, so he did need to talk to Quirrell. Whatever was wrong with him, Harry was sure he could fix it.
"Maybe you can show it to Quirrell," he mocked under his breath in a crude imitation of his sister's high (whiny) voice.
Then he stopped. It was baby-ish and pointless.
She started it! said a little voice.
They always argued about stupid things. That wasn't weird. What was strange was how long both of them had stayed angry. Harry had glanced at her in Potions earlier; Ruby had given him a furious look and gone back to chopping salamander hearts, and he couldn't help but wonder if she was imagining his face as she did.
Stranger still, Harry had discovered an identical pit of anger in his stomach. So much so that when Seamus's potion exploded, Snape wasn't the only one who had snapped at him.
That outburst had cost Gryffindor fifteen points. He'd stormed out of class after, without a word to Ron or Hermione.
Maybe I should apologize and get it over with.
She should apologize!
Harry opened Shadows and Spirits to the table of contents and ran a finger down the list.
"Ghost, ghouls, wraiths... Obscurials?" He hadn't heard that word before. Curious, he turned to the indicated page and began to read.
Aunt Petunia had been very annoyed when she found out that he could read silently before Dudley did, and after she found about it from their primary school teacher, forced him to read out loud for the entire year-and-a-half that it took Dudley to learn, too.
Honestly, Harry had spent most of primary school dumbing himself down to avoid annoying Aunt Petunia, spelling words wrong on purpose and leaving out questions on exams.
She would usually demand to see their marked exams, flicking through the pages with her lips pressed into a thin line, and snap at him for doing better than Dudley.
"Well, it's not my fault he's a dunce!"
Said outburst would usually result in a torrent of screaming. If he was lucky, she might even say a few choice words about his 'good-for-nothing, drunk father!'
It was nice, he thought, not to have to worry about what Aunt Petunia would say.
Harry returned his attention to the book.
Aunt Petunia wasn't someone to worry about anymore.
Before wizards went underground, in the dark days when we were still being hunted by Muggles, young wizards and witches sometimes tried to suppress their magic to avoid persecution.
Instead of learning to harness or to control their powers, they developed what was called an Obscurus.
A child affected by an Obscurus is known as an Obscurial. There are no other known symptoms of this affliction other than the existence of the Obscurus.
Could this — could this be what was wrong with him? He was struggling to control his magic.
An Obscurus is an unstable, uncontrollable dark force that bursts out and attacks its surroundings, usually when the Obscurial is at an emotional or mental breaking point, and then vanishes once the child is no longer in distress.
Harry's gaze was drawn to a rather dramatic depiction of a terrible black wind that tore through a street, leaving it in complete shambles.
When an Obscurial releases the Obscurus within, their eyes become pure white, and their physical form vibrates and becomes distorted.
The picture under it was oddly gruesome. A child was suspended in a storm of black wind, shimmering white like a strange star, with their eyes screwed tight and mouth wide open, as if in pain.
While in Obscurial form, the child is invulnerable to the effects of all magic and physical force. The size and might of an Obscurus depend on the innate power of its host; the more powerful an Obscurial, the more powerful their Obscurus. Additionally, the strength of the negative emotion that triggered the release of the Obscurus may contribute to its destructiveness.
Obscurials rarely survive past their tenth birthdays and never past their eleventh, when magic usually becomes permanent and more controlled. The Obscurus is a non-being made of dark and parasitic magic. It will quickly destroy its host before that process can occur.
So that couldn't be what was wrong with him, then. Harry let out a sigh of relief. Maybe it wasn't dangerous, after all.
Even so, it did worry him. Perhaps he could bring the book to show Quirrell.
It was getting late; he should leave before curfew started.
"Can I, er, take this book out?" he asked Madam Pince.
She glanced at the cover and nodded.
"No eating with the book, no writing in the book, no tearing of the book. Understood?" she asked, glaring at him with her dark, beady eyes.
"Yes, Madam Pince," said Harry, barely holding himself back from rolling his eyes. "Got it. Don't damage the book."
"No returning the book late," she warned as he headed towards the door and nearly bumped into a man dressed in scarlet robes.
"Auror Savage," he said sternly. "Name?"
He had a very impressive moustache.
"Harry," he answered, dreading the response. "Harry Potter."
To his great relief, the taciturn Auror gave him a curious look, then glanced down the sheet of parchment that he was holding.
"Year? House?"
"First-year Gryffindor, sir," said Harry. Unable to bite back the retort, he added: "Wouldn't someone have to have figured that out already if they were going to personate me? I mean, if not, it'd be a bit of a bad job, wouldn't it?"
Savage simply glared.
He was like the Queen's Guard. Harry wanted to laugh at him, but he seemed so serious.
"Wand?"
"Wand?" repeated Harry. "What if I didn't have it on me — oh, well, fine."
He took his wand out of his pocket and somewhat awkwardly offered it to the Auror, who gave it a few waves, handed it back to him, and wrote something down.
"Do you need to see the library book as well?" asked Harry. He failed to see the point of all this.
"Where are you going?" asked Savage, without looking up.
"Gryffindor common room," said Harry, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
"Need an escort?"
"No, thanks. Is that it?"
"You are free to leave."
However, Harry did not go immediately to the common room. It was fifteen after the hour, which meant that he should have enough time to rush down to the dungeons and back up to Gryffindor Tower.
He knew the way well enough by now, and soon, he was heading down the cold, still dungeon corridor. The ghostly sounds of the lake echoed all around him, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up.
Was he being followed?
Harry turned around but saw nothing. Could wizards and witches make themselves invisible?
Probably.
"Who's there?" he called, pointing his wand at the air (although he wasn't sure quite what he was intending to do with it).
There was no answer; he was probably being paranoid.
Shaking his head, Harry went around the corner and reached out to push the door open.
There was no door. His palm was pressed against the cool, slightly-rough stone wall.
I bet it's locked if we go back to check.
Ruby was right.
Harry's stomach began to fill with sickening dread as he stumbled back up the passageway.
Something was very, very rotten.
It was close to midnight, and they were having their seventh Astronomy lesson.
"Hey, Ruby! Over here!" someone whispered.
Carefully, she picked her way through the crowd of students and towards the voice.
"Lavender? Is that you?" She couldn't see. Though it was a remarkably clear night, it was moonless and nearly pitch-black; a perfect night for star-gazing.
The stars twinkled boldly above them like someone had taken a needle to the velvet, black sky and poked holes all over it, so that bright pinpricks of light shined through.
"Yes," Lavender whispered back. "Have you met Parvati?"
The girl on the other side of Lavender leaned over to wave at Ruby, her long plait swinging to follow her movement.
"The hour has struck," came Professor Sinistra's melodious yet commanding voice. "Please open your star charts and turn your telescopes towards Canis Minor. But first, who can tell me about Canis Minor and Canis Major?"
As expected, Hermione was the first to raise her hand and be called on.
"Canis Major contains Sirius, Professor, the brightest star in the sky. Both constellations follow Orion, the hunter, across the sky."
"Very good, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor. Mr. Goldstein?"
(It was a class that all of the Houses had together, as it was only one night per week).
"The ancient Egyptians thought of Canis Minor as the jackal god, Anubis!" said Anthony, as usual, almost too quickly to understand. "He was the god of death and the Underworld! But the ancient Greeks thought that there used to be a fox that could never be caught, and a dog that always catches what it hunts—"
Ruby heard him pause to take a large breath, and someone behind them sniggered.
"What a weirdo, honestly!"
"Shut it, Malfoy!" snapped Ruby, feeling somewhat embarrassed at her voice disturbing the still, calm night but overwhelmingly angry on account of Anthony. Her hands balled into fists. "It's not Anthony's fault for being smarter than you are!"
Malfoy was about to retort when Professor Sinistra interrupted them.
"Enough, Mr. Malfoy, Miss Potter," she said smoothly. "Astronomy is a class for quiet reflection and contemplation of the heavens. We leave anger at the door. Please continue, Mr. Goldstein; we were enjoying your contribution."
For the most part, the lesson continued without incident, though Ruby found herself starting to yawn. The Auror in the doorway stalked back-and-forth, their boots tapping softly against the flagstones.
"Excellent," said Professor Sinistra. "For the next few weeks, we will be working on predictions in groups."
"Us three can be a group?" asked Lavender, looking around at both Ruby and Parvati, and they nodded.
"Thank you for your initiative, Miss Brown," said Professor Sinistra, and Lavender beamed. "But I will be assigning groups today. Let's see... Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger... Mr. Smith, Miss Patil, and Miss Brown... Mr. Nott, Miss Greengrass, and Miss Parkinson..."
It seemed that Professor Sinistra had gotten through the whole list without Ruby's name being called.
"...Mr. Goldstein, Mr. Malfoy, and Miss Potter."
The night filled with cries of indignation.
"You can't put me with them, Professor!" shouted Malfoy. "They're idiots!"
"I'm not an idiot!" said Anthony.
"Mr. Malfoy," said Professor Sinistra. "This is your last warning before I take House points."
"My father's the chairman of the Hogwarts Board of Governors!" he shouted back. "He'll hear about this!"
Professor Sinistra was completely unruffled; Ruby was very impressed.
"He certainly will, Mr. Malfoy. Your father will be receiving a timely letter about your disruptive behaviour—"
"But, Professor!"
"Twenty points from Slytherin."
A collective groan went up, and Ruby heard herself doing the same. Regardless of whether or not she liked Malfoy, Pansy, and Blaise, being a Slytherin was still a point of (immense) pride.
Blaise's voice rang out. "Great job, Draco! We're behind Ravenclaw now! And if we don't win the first Quidditch game, we'll be behind Gryffindor, too!"
Professor Sinistra cleared her throat, and the murmuring stopped.
Ruby raised her hand.
"Yes, Miss Potter?"
"I think it's unfair as well," she said. "Malfoy and I don't like each other, Professor, so how are we supposed to cooperate for the next few weeks?"
"Excellent question, Miss Potter," said Professor Sinistra, and her heart plummeted. "That is precisely why the three of you will be working together; to sort out your anger at each other and to learn how to cooperate with people with whom you disagree with. It is a valuable lesson."
"Cheer up," said Lavender, pulling on her arm. "Smith's a bore. At least your group with be entertaining."
"Yeah," said Ruby, looking sullenly through her telescope but not feeling in the least convinced that working with Malfoy would bring anything but strife.
She, Anthony, and Malfoy had grudgingly agreed to work together in the library Saturday morning; the only upside to the situation was that she was meeting Lavender and Parvati afterwards.
Unexpectedly, both Malfoy and Anthony had arrived before her. Ruby chucked her bag on the chair, and they both looked up.
"Hello," said Anthony, smiling.
Malfoy was vigorously erasing something off of his star chart from Wednesday.
"Who needs Astronomy?" he griped. "It shouldn't be required for first years. I should tell Father to make it an elective."
"Just because you're bad at something doesn't mean no one else can do it," said Ruby.
Malfoy rolled his eyes, but surprisingly, did not retort. Losing so many House points must have made an impression on him.
"I've got an idea," said Malfoy. "Let's all pick a different constellation and work by ourselves. Will you two do that?"
"Yes," said Anthony. "I can do that. Ruby?"
She shrugged. "Fine with me. Who's doing what?"
Malfoy put his quill down. "I was thinking Goldstein can do Canis Major, you can do Orion, and I'll do Canis Minor."
"Are you serious!" exclaimed Ruby, loud enough to make Madam Pince hiss "Be quiet in the library!"
She turned to Anthony. "He's picked the easiest one for himself — Canis Minor has only got two main stars — I've got seven, and you've got eight!"
Malfoy glared.
"You just said I was bad at it. I'm doing Canis Minor."
And to make his refusal to cooperate even more final, Malfoy snatched up his things from the table and stormed out of the library.
"Ooh, is he gone now?"
There was a torrent of giggling, and almost instantly, Lavender and Parvati slipped into Malfoy's chair and the one opposite.
"Hi!" chimed Lavender, smiling at Anthony, who gave a small wave and then immediately barricaded himself with books.
Weird. It wasn't like Anthony to be so shy.
"This is Binky," said Lavender, presenting a tiny rabbit with one brown ear and one white. Its nose twitched, and it gave Ruby an unintelligent look before turning back bashfully to sniff Lavender's hand. "Isn't he sweet?" she gushed.
"I thought we could only have cats, toad, and owls," said Ruby, making a mental note to keep a better eye on Hephaestus. He liked to roam around, and Ruby hadn't anticipated Hogwarts being filled with his ideal prey (first Ron's Scabbers, and now Lavender's Binky). It would surely end in tears.
Lavender scratched Binky's head. "Nope — well, kind of, but you can get away with most things unless it's like a dragon or something."
"Okay!" said Parvati, grabbing Lavender's hand. "We're going to go get books!"
Anthony emerged from his book-barricade as the two of them disappeared into the stacks.
"You don't like them?" asked Ruby. She didn't understand what was up with him.
Anthony shook his head, looking rather distracted.
"You're not shy, though."
"They're too—" He vaguely waved his hands around " —much. I'm not being rude, it's just really overwhelming. I'm having a weird day, and it's annoying me. I think I'm going to go back to Ravenclaw Tower and work on my predictions."
He stood up to collect his books.
"Okay," said Ruby, hoping that she hadn't hurt his feelings. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah." He smiled. "I just need to go somewhere quiet for a bit. We can meet to compare our stuff tomorrow?"
"Sounds good," she said as he slung his bag over his shoulder. "Take care."
"You too."
Lavender and Parvati returned a few minutes later.
"Where'd he go?" asked Parvati, looking around.
"He had to go finish something," said Ruby. She looked down and glared at her almost empty star chart.
"Hey, what's wrong?" asked Lavender. "You look really grumpy — I mean, more than usual."
"Harry," she said, "I snapped at him, and I haven't apologized yet, but now I'm pretty sure he's mad at me, too."
Ruby sighed and put her head in her hands.
And Professor Dumbledore's found out what I did, and now he's treating me like a live bomb. Something's wrong with Harry, and he's told Quirrell about it, but Quirrell's up to no good, and Harry thinks I'm crazy for saying it.
"He'll get over it," said Lavender. She shrugged. "Probably. I wouldn't know, I'm an only child — Hey, aren't twins supposed to have spooky telepathy?"
Ruby gave her a contemptuous look, and Lavender snorted.
"I can't wait until third year," said Lavender dreamily. "Do you know Professor Trelawney's Cassandra Trelawney's great-great-granddaughter?"
"Really?" asked Parvati. "The Cassandra Trelawney?"
Ruby had absolutely no idea who that was. But something on the page that Lavender's book, A Complete Guide To Divination For Junior Seers: From Astrology to Xylomancy, was on caught her eye.
"What's that?" asked Ruby, stretching her legs out under the table. Lavender was writing something in sparkly pink ink, and Parvati was chewing on the ends of her hair. "That symbol?"
"A circle, inside a square, inside a triangle, inside a circle. That one looked kind of fresh. It was less faded than the others. Or maybe someone went over it."
She tapped the strange symbol. Somehow, it wasn't as unsettling as when she had seen the chalk drawings in the abandoned room or drawn it in pencil in the Great Hall.
Lavender looked up from her note-taking.
"Oh!" she said loudly, batting a curl out of her face, and Madam Pince glared at all of them. "It's the alchemical symbol for the philosopher's stone!"
"The philosopher's — sorry, what?" asked Ruby.
"You know," said Parvati, who was now picking at her nail polish. She flapped a hand dismissively. "The legendary stone that makes you immortal. Makes the Elixir of Life, blah, blah, blah."
A/N: Unexpectedly, I don't actually have too much to say, except that we're kind of at a turning point in terms of pace, and the next chapter is going to be very... eventful.