SABAISM | H. POTTER

EIGHT. | GRIM DEFEAT

As they settled down for the feast later in the Great Hall, the scene felt magical—decorated with flickering candles, floating pumpkins, and the laughter of students. Ron and Hermione had just returned from Hogsmeade, their faces flushed with excitement, showering their friends with colorful sweets. Everyone's attention was focused entirely on the festivities until they noticed the crowd jammed before the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"What's going on?" Ron asked, peering over the heads of those standing in confusion.

"Doesn't look like anyone can get in," Harry remarked, his heart quickening.

"Let me through!" Gemini announced, pushing her way through the throng, her voice commanding. "Daughter of a murderer here—step aside!" Students parted reluctantly, and she quickly reached the front.

"Hurry up, somebody get Professor Dumbledore!" she urged, scanning the damage done. The painting was viciously slashed, fragments of canvas littering the floor where the Fat Lady had once guarded the entrance.

When Dumbledore arrived, he assessed the chaos with somber eyes and immediately instructed Professor McGonagall to search the castle for the Fat Lady.

Peeves the Poltergeist, ever the instigator, flitted above the crowd, his tone gleeful. "She's run off, you see! Saw her up on the fourth floor, crying her eyes out!"

Gasps rippled through the crowd. "Sirius Black!" came a shout from the back. The revelation sent horror rippling through the students as they turned back to Gemini, who stood pale in disbelief.

"Just my fucking luck," she murmured under her breath, the weight of her lineage crashing in on her, caught between fear and dread.
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Professor Dumbledore had sent all the Gryffindors back to the Great Hall, where they were then joined by the remaining student body. Though the atmosphere crackled with confusion and apprehension, students from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin ambled in one by one, a sea of varying emotions etched across their faces... all eyes gravitated toward Gemini Lupin-Black, the center of an unspoken storm.

"Oh, come on!" Gemini groused, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she addressed the passerby's scrutinizing gaze. "You lot don't even know if I'm the reason you are all here! So, despite the sheer effort it may take, please...do tear your eyes off of my bewitching self!" A languid Ravenclaw girl sauntered by, rolling her eyes and muttering under her breath, "Isn't it always about you this year?" Instantly, Lupin-Black, her ire ignited and powered by unbridled defense, spun around to confront the sleepy eagle. "I'm sorry. Who the hell even are you?" Thankfully, Harry Potter, with his characteristic sense of loyalty and protectiveness, swiftly came to the flinching girl's defense, wrapping his arms around the lioness poised to launch. "I'm sorry," he murmured to the terrified stranger, tightening his grip in a silent plea for her to retreat. "However, you need to get moving if you value your life." The unfamiliar witch didn't require a second invitation.

Undeterred by the rather theatrical altercation, which nearly everyone in the hall watched with bated breath, Professor Dumbledore stepped forward to address the brewing chaos. "Excuse me," the venerable Headmaster interjected, cutting through the rising tide of anxiety; Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were already positioning themselves at the doors, securing the entrance to the hall. "The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle. I regret to inform you that, for your own safety... you will have to spend the night here." A wave of hushed murmurs rippled through the students. "I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall," he continued with a steady voice, "and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbances should be reported to me immediately." Then he turned to Percy, who stood there puffed up with a sense of duty, "Send word with one of the ghosts." At that moment, Professor Dumbledore paused, as if remembering an essential detail before departing the hall, and stated, "Oh, yes, you'll be needing..." With one casual wave of his wand, the long tables floated effortlessly to the edges of the hall, aligning perfectly against the walls. With another flick, the floor transformed as hundreds of squashy, purple sleeping bags unfurled like petals blooming in spring. "Sleep well," he said softly, closing the door behind him, an air of vigilance lingering in his wake.