My heart skipped a beat as the photo came to life. There we were, Jacob and I, jumping up and down and grinning at Mom. She must have thought it was because we were excited. Mischievous, giggling, and making silly faces at each other. Little did she...
Sweet is the voice of a sister in the season of sorrow.
— Benjamin Disraeli, a British writer and statesman
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It took us a few days to learn Revelio. The recipe was simple: Wideye potions (3 items), Charms textbooks (2 items), and Chester (1 item). Getting that last component proved to be the most challenging as Davies initially refused, then pretended to be asleep, deaf, or dead.
Finally, we managed to wear him down. Rowan, in an act of penance for our sins, penned an essay that earned us a whopping fifteen points. I also tried my luck, but Professor Snape, in his infinite generosity, saw fit to award me a singular point. Not a fraction more, but "a whole one point!" Suppressing my anger was paramount; the last thing I wanted was to end up losing more points than earned.
It all started as usual:
"Chester! Oh, come on, Chester!"
The cauldron of his head was slowly coming to a boil. Davies didn't even look up from his homework.
"Chester, you do love us, don't you?" He turned abruptly, his ears red to the tips. "Because we're your most diligent students."
Chester relaxed and thoughtfully scratched his chin. "All right," he said at last. "Get a piece of paper."
Plop! I grabbed a quill, dipped it in the inkwell, and got ready to be tutored.
"Write this down: 'I...'. Got it? Now, write: 'I — won't fall — for this trick — again!'"
The true audacity of it only hit me once the quill left the parchment. I shot a resentful glance at Chester. Such arrogance! Little did he know that his defense would crumble in a matter of hours. We had Revelio up our sleeves.
Both Rowan and I pondered a lot about the Vanishing Staircase — during breakfast, lessons, and every spare moment. The one-step plan emerged naturally: investigate it! So, immediately after our classes, bundled in our warmest clothes, we headed to the fifth floor.
The ice had swallowed the entire corridor. Breathing grew labored, the frigid air stung our lungs. We fought on, carving a path with Incendio, a Fire-Making Charm. But the walls persisted, closing in on us. The icy corridor seemed to be toying with us, almost cheating, but not as much as Rowan cheated when playing Gobstones.
"Mia, can you promise me something?"
I stopped in my tracks, turning to face Rowan, eyebrows raised in surprise. She nervously fidgeted with her glasses.
I liked Rowan, her quirky scarf, large eyes, and dark skin. She was beautiful, but her beauty differed from Penny's; it was unconventional, natural, and somehow unfitting. Whenever we huddled close in the Library, I would catch a whiff of her scent — a combination of aged parchment, ink, and freshly cut wood. Rowan was as sharp as a quill, her presence resonating like echoes in the mountains.
