Till Forever Falls Apart

Third Year: No Time Like the Present

October 31, 1993 - 11:23 P.M.

    "I'm sorry?"

    Val's sharp words flew from her mouth before she could restrain herself, earning several wary looks from students around her when she had been too loud for her own good. She put her head down, mildly observing the marble beneath her feet, hoping she hadn't given too much of her current situation away.

    Professor McGonagall's look was the weariest of them all, prodding the poltergeist to share any information he could about who had slashed the lady's portrait, but he refused, insisting it had been the work of Fenrir Greyback.

    Where is Dad? Val thought worriedly, scanning the crowded corridor for any sign of her father. If it was Greyback who had broken into the school, even after the many protections set in place, had he been harmed? Was he facing his attacker at that very instant?

    The portraits were no use either. They had all been asleep at the time of the incident. Whoever had done it had been quick and quiet, leaving the students huddled together on the cold steps with only each other to keep warm and calm. A first-year Gryffindor's lip began to quiver before they cried on the sleeve of Fred Weasley's robe.

    "Everyone go back to the Great Hall," McGonagall ordered. "You will remain there until this is corrected."

    Grumbling and complaints rifled through the passageway, obliging only because most students were longing for safety they weren't sure was offered in the large and open halls of Hogwarts once again. Everyone gathered into the Hall once more, surprised to see that the tables were gone and replaced by sleeping mats lined against the floor in neat rows.

    "We'll be sleeping here?" Anthony gaped. "All of us?"

    "There is plenty of room," Dumbledore sent him a trusting smile as he passed. "I know the situation is difficult, but I do hope that you will get some much-deserved rest."

    Anthony nodded, scratching the back of his head with uncertainty as he went to find Michael and Terry.

    "Something troubling you, Valentina?" The headmaster asked politely, examining her with a slight lean of his head.

    She erased what would've been a frown, wondering how he had seen her worry so clearly. "There is. Do you know where my father is? I haven't seen him, and I'd like to know if he's okay."

    Dumbledore's expression did not change. "I see. I'm sure he'll come around sometime soon for you. In the meantime, try to get as much sleep as you can. It does not do well to worry yourself scarce."

    It was not the answer she wanted or was hoping for, but she had felt tired and didn't see another reason to argue. She nodded, hoping her smile matched his, and went to find an extra sleeping mat near her friends when so many of them had already been occupied.

    "I saved you one," Harry held it out to her. She took it thankfully, laying her cot against the floor and unfolding the blanket. The single pillow was anything but comfortable, but it was only a night of sleep, and she would have to make do.

    "Do you think he's really here?" Harry folded the sides of his glasses, placing them near his bed.

    "Maybe," Val whispered back, taking her wand and performing a warming spell. Autumn had already arrived, whisking away the brightness of summer and leaving cool, cloudy weather and fallen leaves. "Why else would there be slash marks on the portrait?"

    Harry didn't say much after that, rolling onto his other side after saying good night, trying to fall into sleep. The window panes shuddered every so often, and soft rain fell against the roof, magnifying the sound of the weather conditions outside. A student coughed here and there, some were muttering in their sleep, others snoring soundly. It should have been almost the perfect environment to sleep in.