𝕱𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖆 𝕱𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖚𝖊 ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪɢɢʟᴇꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏᴍʙꜱ

Highly Dangerous

The morning light filtered through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, casting a soft glow on the long tables where students gathered for breakfast. It was early in the morning, Frida sat at the sparsely occupied Hufflepuff table, nibbling on a piece of toast but keeping her eyes on the Slytherin table. Tracey sat there, hunched over, barely touching her food. The other Slytherins around her pretended she didn't exist. Frida's heart twisted with anger and concern. No first-year should feel this isolated, especially not on their second day at Hogwarts. David walked by Tracey without a passing glance, which made Frida frown.

She reluctantly decided to speak with Snape. She wasn't a stranger to trouble, considering what she and George had planned for Snape's first lesson over the summer, Fred providing them with his brilliance.

The Heads of Houses moved through the Hall, handing out timetables to their students. Frida watched as Professor Snape made his way down the Slytherin table with his black robes billowing and stent demeanour.

Gathering her courage, Frida stood up from her seat. This wasn't about her. It was about Tracey. She crossed the hall and approached the Slytherin table.

"Professor Snape," Frida called out, her voice steady. Snape turned his gaze to her, his eyes narrowing slightly. She felt queasy.

"Yes, Miss Fortescue?" Snape's voice was cool, as usual, but not as icy as it could be.

Frida took a deep breath. "I wanted to talk to you about Tracey." She gestured slightly to the girl sitting at the far end of the table. "She's having a really hard time, and I think she needs your help."

Snape's eyes flickered to Tracey, who was paler than when they woke up in the common room. "I am aware of the difficulties faced by first-years, Miss Fortescue. It is something she will have to manage."

Frida shook her head. "It's not just that! The others aren't just ignoring her, they're bullying her because she's muggleborn. They didn't even tell her the password last night."

For a moment, Snape's expression was unreadable. Then, something cold flashed in his eyes. "I see, Miss Fortescue, you can return to your table. Thank you for informing me."

He walked over to Tracey, handing her the timetable for first-years. "Is this true, Miss Davis? What Fortescue just told me." Frida heard him ask.

Tracey nodded, her eyes downcast. "Yes, sir."

Snape's lips thinned into a hard line. "I see." His voice was sharp. "Miss Davis, meet me in my office after your classes ended."

Frida wanted to make sure that Snape would actually help Tracey and not just scold her for being weak, but she could only hope she had done the right thing.

She caught a glimpse of Tracey's face. The fear was still there, but there was a glimmer of something else, too-maybe relief that someone had finally noticed. Frida could only hope that Snape, in his own way, would make sure Tracey found her place in Slytherin.

Now onto her other task, she marched over to David and plopped down across the table, ignoring the disgruntled looks she earned from the other Slytherins.

"Why didn't you help her?"

"Good morning to you too," he looked unfazed, pouring a coffee into his mug. "I don't know what you're talking about."