Darwinism | hp

015: mudbloods

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Two months later, at the welcoming feast held at the start of every school year, almost everyone at said feast noticed that Marilyn Locke wasn't there.

Though she was not exactly popular in her first year, she ended it by stopping Lord Voldemort from coming back to power, along with Harry, which meant the entire school knew of her, now. And while many were looking out for her, wondering what had happened her over the summer, they were disappointed, and some concerned, when she did not appear, though her younger sister did, her last name making everyone pay attention to her sorting, which put her in Gryffindor.

"Finally." Draco Malfoy had muttered, as he piled his plate high with food. "Bit of luck has come our way."

His fellow second year, Enzo Berkshire, was looking at the Gryffindor table, as he had been all night. "You don't think she's dead, do you?"

"Here's to hoping. Maybe someone decided to finally clean up this school, and not let her kind in."

Blaise Zabini, another second year Slytherin, chuckled, not looking up from his foot. "Considering her little sister's here, I doubt it."

"Ugh. Don't get me started on that thing."

But in the Gryffindor Common Room, it was mostly concern. Sandy only shrugged when people asked her where her sister was, and then later in the night became upset if anyone asked.

"Maybe she ran off and decided to stay a Muggle." Seamus Finnigan suggested.

Ron stared at him for a moment. "That's probably the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Bet they did something." Harry , again, mentioned the Slytherins. "You saw Riddle follow her in Diagon Alley."

"And she was fine after." Hermione sighed, leaning on her arm. "I'm sure she's fine."

"Yeah. Probably got locked out of the barrier, like we did." Ron said. "She'll show up in the morning like nothing happened."

But Marilyn did not appear at breakfast the next morning. Or in Herbology, or Transfiguration. As the class of Gryffindors stared at her empty seat instead of turning beetles into buttons, Harry's hand shot up into the air.

"If Mr Weasley has killed another bug, he can ask for one himself, Mr Potter." Professor McGonagall, their head of house, said, as she walked down the aisle between the desks, watching their work.

"That wasn't what I was going to ask, Professor."

She stopped beside his desk, and raised her eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Have you heard anything about Marilyn? Locke?"

There was a flicker of something in her face, but whatever it was was hidden too well for Harry to know what it was. 

"That's none of your business, Mr Potter."

"But she hasn't sent us back any letters in a week. And we thought we'd see her here, but we-"

"A week?" McGonagall turned, and walked back to her desk. "It's none of your business."

"But-" Hermione started.

"Any of your business. If Miss Locke believed you should know something, she would have told you. If not, just stick to your classes."

"She's hiding something." Ron insisted, as they made their way to the Great Hall for Lunch. "I'm telling you, something weird is going on."

"Who's hiding something? Marilyn?" Hermione asked, as they sat down.

"No, McGonagall. You saw it, didn't you, Harry?"