Maeve Macmillan liked to write.
It didn't matter if it was writing her thoughts in her diary, short stories in a journal, articles for newspapers, essays for homework, letters to her parents, simple reminders on her hand, quotes on parchment to st...
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---------------------> IN THE GREAT HALL, students of all houses struggled to wrap their heads around the fact that Hufflepuff and writer extraordinaire was Somebody, someone who they had dismissed from suspected candidates early on. Maeve's constant writing had been chalked up to articles while her kindness had been reduced to a stereotypical Hufflepuff trait, with Severus and James staunchly professing so. She had been hiding in plain sight.
Those like Grace who, at one point, had enlisted Maeve's assistance in discovering Somebody now stared at the newspaper in something akin to hatred for having been played. Some like Rabastan Lestrange had secretly glorified Somebody in their head and were now picking up the sharp shards of their shattered illusion, converting all of the supportive letters they had received from Somebody to be honeyed lies, just as Headmaster Dumbledore had predicted.
Others, like the Marauders, were trying hard not to feel betrayed at the revelation while most remained split with being indifferent or happy. The former category had considered Somebody and the person behind the mask as two separate people while the latter found their beloved Somebody being a Hufflepuff easier to stomach than say, them being a Slytherin like they'd dreaded.
However, a corner of the minds of Gryffindors and Slytherins breathed out in relief at Maeve unveiling herself. With their anxiety climbing on each passing day with no answers, the majority of them had resigned themselves to the consequences of the bet. Their shoulders slumped now that they didn't have to go through with it. A part of them was grateful to Maeve for exploiting the loophole of the bet—nothing had been discussed what to do when a Hufflepuff announced Somebody's identity—and they thanked their own arrogance for presuming that way.
While the students still in denial were absorbing the publicised disclosing of Somebody's identity, unknown to them, Somebody herself was present in Hogwarts.
The fireplace at the office of the esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry erupted to life like a supernova. The flames danced and combined wildly to form the figure of a person, receding to embers as Maeve stepped out, wearing a vibrant, purple gemstone dress with dark outer robes. Her long, wavy hair had been chopped to a collarbone-length angled cut with bangs.
"Good afternoon, Maeve," welcomed Headmaster Dumbledore, sitting in his high chair and motioned to the chair opposite to his. "Please sit. How can I help you?"
Maeve smiled at him and took a seat as he instructed. "I think my parents already informed you, Headmaster, but I've come to formalise the request." Headmaster Dumbledore hummed in prompting and Maeve continued: "It's been a wonderful experience studying at Hogwarts. I've met the loveliest people and I've created memories I'll cherish forever and evermore, but I think it's time for me to say goodbye now. I have projects that demand my attention more than schoolwork and exams."
"I understand, Maeve. Do you have the documents with you?"
"Yes, of course. One moment." Maeve dug into the never-ending pockets of her robes and produced a file of papers which she handed over to Headmaster Dumbledore who accepted and checked that everything was in order.
