Ascendancy - Book I of the 𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨 𝔖𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰

IV. 3rd November 1931 - illusions

Bare feet touched the cold castle floor. Darkness enveloped Hogwarts, thicker than the sky. The only source of light came from the moon, high and round. A faint ray of light seeped through the crystal of the windows. The white fabric of the nightgown reflected the moonlight with intensity. Callidora travelled from corridor to corridor every night. She still had the taste of passion on her lips, eager to venture further. When she heard a noise, she hoped it was him.

Him.

Harfang Longbottom had become her obsession. The last time he had deigned to look at her was a few days ago, back from Hogsmeade. Since then, he'd spent his time ignoring her. Whenever she tried to get his attention, he went in the opposite direction. In the Great Hall, he sat with his back to the Slytherin table. Then she would go out at night, hoping that he would kiss her again as he had done, that he would steal a piece of her under the stars.

It was almost midnight and she was tired. Shivers were running down her spine, so she thought it sensible to return to the Common Room. She hoped that Cassiopeia would not notice her repeated absences. The girl was perceptive. With just a few details, she could reconstruct the whole story. A few details that she could also get out of people's heads.

As she walked towards the dungeons, she heard a whistling sound. Her heart leapt. There was nothing there. Emptiness surrounded her, a heavy silence lay. Surely it was only Peeves who was bored. Less and less reassured, she took a step, but immediately another whistle sounded. She turned around. Either she was being made fun of or she was mad. But if her whistling was meant to lure her somewhere, then the technique had to be revised, because she had no idea where it was coming from.

"Who is there?" she dared to ask.

The echo repeated its words a dozen times, until it merged with the silent darkness. No one answered. No whistling followed. This sudden calm only made Callidora panic. She had the strange impression of being spied on, analysed by a foreign eye. Wherever she looked, she could not see, but her impression only grew stronger. What if someone was trying to hurt her? She hadn't even thought of taking her wand. As she cursed herself, she took one last look at the empty corridor.

Suddenly, a hand pressed against her mouth. She stifled a scream, which the echo ignored. A grip prevented her from struggling. At that moment, Callidora thought only of her survival. She would have been ready to hurt herself in order to escape. Unfortunately, she was not granted this favour. A powerful arm closed over her abdomen, taking her breath away. She clawed at her attacker's arm, to no avail. Why on earth had she decided to walk down a corridor alone? She would be dragged into a room, tortured, maybe killed, who knew. The man pulled her into a corner. She wanted to scream, but her human gag tightened. Could she call Cassiopeia by her mind? No, no, no, what a fool, why walk around the castle alone in the middle of the night? She heard, in between her gasping for breath and her attempts to call for help, a door open. Suddenly she was let go. Callidora staggered, disoriented, but immediately her hand fell on a heavy object. She grabbed it and pointed it at the threatening presence.

It was a candlestick. Callidora mentally insulted herself for the ridicule she must be giving off.

"Put that down," ordered a male voice.

The clatter of the door echoed between the grey walls. The room had only a few broken chairs and broomsticks in disrepair. Several candlesticks of the same type lined a mahogany chest of drawers.

"Who are you?" she asked in a trembling voice.

"Put that down and I'll tell you."

He remained in the shadows, like a murderer not wanting to reveal his face. She had read several novels about it. Who knew, maybe the shadow wizards really did exist, and they were after her.