Another story of fate

Chapter 8

Dea

I met with Neville at the owlery: a round stone room with glassless windows. Stinking owl droppings and rodent skeletons lay on the thatched floor. Ernest sat on one of the perches of the lower tier, hooting benevolently. I stroked him, attaching the letter, while my friend fished a couple of shekels out of his pockets, sending his own. Mrs. Augusta asked to report every day how her boy was doing.  He did not buy his own owl, so he was content with school ones. I winced in disgust, remembering the stories Neville used to describe his days at home to the smallest detail. I don’t envy  him with his grandmother. Reading how a friend is embarrassed at the sight of others is the opposite of fun.

"Dea, are you coming?" -He asked as a medium-sized owl flew out the window, holding a massive envelope in its paws.

I went after him.
Descending the spiral staircase of the tower, we often ran into fellow students. They respectfully let us through, continuing their ascent up. We ran into Malfoy downstairs.  He brushed Neville proudly with his shoulder, then gave me a cold look, hiding in the stone bends.

“Dea, thanks for the healing,” -Neville managed to say as we left the tower.

The two of us stomped down the long hallway leading to the Hall, shuffling our feet. I looked around suspiciously.  Nobody. Noticing a niche in the far wall, I grabbed the boy by the arm and dragged him there, holding him against the cold wall. He didn't resist.

"Do not tell anyone.  This is a secret" -I whispered, invoking the powers of great wizards, so that my friend would not blabber and no one would hear us.

Neville considered. He looked at me in disbelief. His eyes flickered from side to side. The boy was clearly at a loss and had no idea what to do. Maybe I'm the first person to ask him to keep a secret?

"Are your abilities dangerous?"  -He muttered, barely audible.

“Very much” -I hissed. - "Mom says the less people know, the less likely they I'll get killed."

Neville nodded approvingly, deftly freeing himself from the shackles of my arms.

“I promise” -he said.

The rest of the way we talked as always, good-naturedly bullying each other. I still hesitated if a friend would tell my secret, but I had no reason not to trust Mr. Longbottom.

The first time I was summoned to the principal's office was on the Thursday of the first week of study.  A lone piece of paper appeared on McGonagall's desk, only she handed out the test assignments. I stared at it, noting the correct answers to the tests and writing down open-ended questions. The professor waited silently for me to finish.

“Miss Amaretto, you are expected in Albus Dumbledore’s office” -she announced as I turned in the test.  One of the head-students of our house, Gemma Farley, entered the class. The robe fit her perfectly, curly red hair she gathered in a tight bun, securing with hairpins. 

“Miss Farley will show you."

To the faint whisper of my classmates I stuffed my things into my backpack and sullenly trudged off after Gemma. She looked down on me, as if I were a ragged Muggleborn. Nes, like Neville, was dumbfounded to watch the whole action, not taking her eyes off me.  I smiled encouragingly.
What the director of Hogwarts wanted from me, I did not realize.  He, of course, could have found out about the trick in the Potions class, but he wouldn't kick me out for such a minor offense! Gemma walked alongside. She carried herself independently, articulating arrogantly around the bends.
The director's office, as I discovered later, is located in the Director's Tower and is a system of three small stepped geometry towers. Similar to the dorms, the entrance is protected by a password, which asks for the talking gargoyle. A huge stone guardian guards the passage to the spiral staircase leading to the study.