The Other Witches

18. Unfriendly Cold

In an act of timeless grace, I trip over my skirt.

Kicking off my shoes, I am only vaguely aware of the screaming, the flashes of light falling like hail around me. My mind has shifted into a phase where the only thing that matters is the safety of my only allies. "Protego!" I yell as a jet of yellow light shoots toward Ella and PJ. "Protego!"

The room is suddenly enveloped in a black, shimmery fog. I can't see three feet in front of me.

Figures Ella would have Peruvian darkness powder at this very moment. How long has she kept that on her? I wonder.

"Eliza!" a voice cries. "Quick, over here!" Before I even have a chance to respond, a hand reaches out and brushes my arm.

The first charm that comes to mind is "Incendio!"

"OW!"

"Oh, geez. Sorry, James."

"That's all right and good, but you have to follow my voice. The others made it out of this mess fine, except for Al over there. People mistaking him for one of you ladies and all that." He pauses for a moment. "Lumos. Can you see that?"

A little white light winks at me from the left. "Yeah." My throat is as dry as chalk.

"Go in the direction of that light and don't stop, at least not until you reach the entrance to the Hall. The others are outside waiting; meet them while I go find Al."

Before he even finishes, I start padding away, silent in my bare feet. The fog lessens, and the screaming and the flashes die away. A bit of my skirt tears on the threshold of the Great Hall. The glowing head of Von's Patronus cat peers around the corner, then turns and begins running (or gliding) down the corridor. It's a wonder Von can even produce a corporeal Patronus under these circumstances; it must be taking a lot of effort. It leads me to a faded oak door with an old-fashioned brass handle, but no need to unlock it since it's hanging ajar. Lauren's hand reaches from the doorway and pulls me roughly into the room, shutting the door hastily.

This is a sad sight. Ella and Von are propped up against each other in the corner, both close to unconscious. Von sports a split lip, and Ella's shoulder looks badly burned. Scorpius is tending to a slashed, bloodied arm; PJ is busy transfiguring stray parchments into bandages, even with scorched pants and a nastily bruised shin. Lauren appears unscathed, other than the limp in her left foot. She whips out the cloak that endangers her life and heads to the door to keep watch, disappearing under the fabric halfway there. And in front of the first row of desks, the shell-shocked Ravenclaw boy has passed out from exhaustion. The blood on the Hogwarts robes he was wearing over his dress robe has dried, and it's matted all over his sandy hair. He pitifully twitches every now and then, waves of pain flashing over his face. And part of this is your fault, my thoughts remind me accusingly, triggering a solid rock of guilt to settle somewhere in my gut.

What would a normal day be like for us, I wonder sadly.

"Holy CHEESE!" Lucy gasps from one of the desks. In front of her is my copy of The Mystical Arts, open to the page headed "Helga's Foresight" in gold lettering. Hmm. Going through my stuff again, I see. Lauren rushes to look over her shoulder, and Ella sits up jerkily. Her hair is bright orange from Lucy's outburst, but at least she's back to consciousness.

"I think this is the answer, guys. Listen to this: In the days of the creation of Hogwarts, the four founders encountered disagreement after disagreement. On one occasion, after one of their more heated arguments, they discovered that more was needed to keep the four houses as one school than just their shared roof, and they vowed that they would create a magical pact that would preserve Hogwarts's unity..."