The Tribrid and Her Prison {COMPLETE}

The Boggart From Hell

The students would arrive on September 1st- which was next Friday. Hope didn't have much more time to have solidarity during the day to roam the halls, so she did so now after completing her tasks outside with the creatures. Newt was making a last-minute trip to Hogsmeade, and Albus was in London at the Ministry. He didn't say, but she was confident they were discussing her.

So, Hope decided to spend her day trying to memorize more staircases. They still kept shifting when she least expected, but she was starting to realize the pattern they sometimes followed.

She walked down the hallway to talk to Sir Nicholas, who raved about applying for the Headless Hunt this year. Again, he tacked on with irritation, leading Hope to slowly slip away as he ranted to himself.

Biting her lip, she walked and walked, running her fingers over banisters and touching the hand of a Knight in armor, only for him to shoo her hand away.

"Sorry," she pulled her hands back, "Didn't know you could feel that."

Just as she was beginning to get hungry for real food, not just blood, she heard a strange pounding sound. Her eyes searched the area and frowned when none of the paintings seemed to be hitting the wall. Curiously, she followed what she could now describe as a hollow banging to the Defense Against the Dark Arts room.

In the far-off corner, the cabinet next to where Albus had first gotten her blood, stood a wardrobe. It banged back and forth as if something were fighting to get out. While she knew it would be wise to walk away, Hope also knew...she wasn't that smart.

The curiosity burning inside got the better of her, and she inched herself toward the wardrobe. Hope wouldn't open it; she didn't want to, but she could at least press her ear to it and listen for what might be in there. Was it one of Newt's creatures? His Niffler was always getting into things when their backs were turned. Maybe he'd somehow gotten into the classroom.

Hope walked forward, approaching the wardrobe, when it burst open. Falling back onto the floor, scraping her hands and elbows.

She screamed.

It was a horrible, violent scream. One that echoed down the hallway. It ruptured the glass facing the lawns and shattered them, leaving open gaps where the windows had been.

The thing that emerged from the wardrobe instantly caused her so much fear that she fell into a void of darkness.

It overwhelmed her so thoroughly and brought her into her mind so deeply it was like clawing her way out of Hell.

Hope woke up in the infirmary.

She blinked away the blurriness of her eyes just as Newt rushed over and knelt by her bedside.

"Hope." He murmured, holding her hand in his.

Blinking again, she tried to focus on him—his voice. Her senses came back all at once, and the loudest thing was Newt's heartbeat.

"I think you need to rest, Newt. Your heart is racing," she said with a frown, finding her voice was weak.

"I need to rest?" He asked and then couldn't help but laugh, but it was a ragged laugh. One filled with worry.

Hope slowly started to sit up, and Madam Florence came over, offering her a cup of blood. "Here, dear. Drink this, and you'll feel better."

The sudden and intense need for blood made her take it and start gulping it in a frenzy. Whatever had happened had left her starving.

"Hope." The firm voice stopped her mid-gulp, and her eyes looked over to see Albus standing just off to the corner of her bed. Next to him was Professor McGonagall. "Control." He said a simple reminder.