My heart skipped a beat as the photo came to life. There we were, Jacob and I, jumping up and down and grinning at Mom. She must have thought it was because we were excited. Mischievous, giggling, and making silly faces at each other. Little did she...
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On the eve of the Gryffindor-Slytherin match, the castle had turned into a beehive. The Library was no exception: notes, whispers, and even threats fluttered between the shelves. Rowan and I also lowered our heads, but the conversation had nothing to do with Quidditch.
"Believe me, Mia, I would doubt it too if I hadn't deciphered it myself. We need to find a black quill in the Gryffindor common room!"
"But there's a catch," I retorted, my smile as sour as a lemon Bertie Bott's Bean. "We're Ravenclaws, not Gryffindors."
Madam Pince suddenly peered around a bookcase, and we swiftly separated. I pretended to be engrossed in my textbook, while Rowan meticulously doodled on a scrap of parchment. Pince was the most formidable librarian, matching Filch in her strictness. It was almost surprising they hadn't formed some kind of alliance.
When the danger had passed, we resumed whispers. A secret passage? A Polyjuice Potion? A spell to turn the cloak red? Rowan recorded the options, seasoning them with comments ("Impossible," "Dangerous," "Very dangerous," "Mind-losing").
I was tempted to protest (why would a Polyjuice Potion be "mind-losing"?), but Madam Pince reappeared in the hall. She walked past, gathering notes from the tables, and demonstratively crumpled them up. I briefly imagined what would happen if she accidentally crumpled someone's essay. Just like that, by mistake.
"Miss Gelider?"
I blinked absentmindedly and looked up at Madam Pince, her horrendous hat casting a shadow over her stern face.
"Turn the book over. You've been reading it upside down for a couple of minutes."
My cheeks flushed, and I muttered something about a new reading technique. Rowan hastily obscured her mock notes, covered in circles and doodles. Tiny drawings of Bill Weasley adorned the margins, but I discreetly averted my eyes — and that's when I noticed Penny. She traveled from table to table in search of a free spot. Boys gave up their seats, and girls huddled together to let her land, but Haywood didn't stop by.
Finally, her eyes found us, and she smiled warmly. A dozen envious glances shot our way.
"So, what's the news?"
I was about to reply, but Madam Pince shushed us once more. Shh-h! Apparently, she had been keeping a close eye on our humble table. Guiltily, I lowered my gaze, pretending to be absorbed in my studies.
A quill soon skittered across a scrap of parchment: "No sign of Ben. Need to sneak into the Gryffindor common room. Pure despair." The note discreetly migrated to Penny. She looked it through and let out a loud gasp — that was quite enough to summon Madam Pince again. We had met her too often today.
