Thea Howell and The Boy Who Lived

Chapter 8: Midnight Maddess.

"Come here, you rat!" Marcus shouted, chasing through crowds after me.

"Colloshoo," Adrian exclaimed, his wand sparked and the spell just missed me, hitting the Matron. She fell forward, crashing into them. As I slipped through the corridors, my hand pulled a lever on instinct and ran inside. The stature slid behind me with the thumping of their feet, sending chills down my spine, but I was safe. My legs collapsed as I took a deep breath. Some things never change, as I always hoped they would. But they'd soon realise where I was, so I crawled for the nearest exit.

The inside of the castle's walls were well lit and perfectly straight. Carved with gold, it appeared to have always existed as if the mountain simply had a wide artery. Every teacher had a theory. The Founding Four had it all planned in case of a witch hunt - McGonagall would say. Spout disagreed, arguing it was for survival of the great flood. That the mountain was the only thing strong enough to handle the waves.

But Trelawney's 'vision' was definitely the weirdest. Said it forged the very mountain to harbour the monsters of old for the battle powerful forces. Not sure if she was serious about that one, but it made a wicked bedtime story.

My fingers chipped the granite, peeling colours of pink, grey, and blue.

My body stopped at the sound of something crashing. A book fell from its shelf, a flutter of pages and a broken spine echoing across the room. I grew a cold sweat, hands stiff, my breath rose in fear - I turned my head, eyes peeking through and nothing. There was no one around. The classroom was bare. It was still lunch-time.

Idiot.

I looked again. The room was enormous, with several desks and tables, as well as some sets of large windows. An iron chandelier hung from the ceiling, as well as a dragon's skeleton. On one end of the classroom was a series of lights, lit by electricity, and on the other stood a projector that was activated by magic. It was the DADA room.

BONG! BONG! BONG!

Three-o'clock.

"W-welcome, student-s-s." Professor Quirrell stuttered, ushering in the third years. I slumped down and pushed another book to view. Dumbledore would have to forgive me for skipping class. Well, is really skipping if I'm still watching like the rest?

"Today, w-w-we will be continuing our work with l-light... many creatures, they-uh, fear things that-that they don't understand," Quirrell lowered his wand, it realised a shower of red sparks, scattering about the floor, "Br-bright lights and sparks are...t-terrifying to many things,"

They drew my eyes to the Twins, faces lit up with wonder - one could only imagine what sick tricks they had planned.

"Now, let's begin with the Wand-Lighting Charm," And drew the letters on the board - L-U-M-O-S

"Lumos." said a student.

"Yes," Quirrell nodded, waving to everyone "Loudly!"

"LUMOS!" everyone shouted, their wands flickering like candles in the wind.

"Lumos..." I wave my wand, watching the glow light up the spacing. Not enough to leave the room dark, but the furniture was nothing but obscure shapes and the colours so muted that they were almost grey. Especially the long grey curtain that floated in front of me.

"Sneaking into Professor Quirrell's lesson again?" The curtain wavered, belonging to a tall old man in a purple robe, "Or are you hiding from someone?" I stayed silent. Dumbledore leaned over to my level, peering through the hole, "I remember when I was a young boy, watching the older grades create fiery-monsters or apparated a sofa,"

My hands gripped the chips of stone across the floor - he had to have know, right? My breath became shallow at the thought.

"But nothing compared to accepting a wizard's duel," He sank, his robes catching against the spackle, "It's the biggest rumour in school, everyone knows by now."