Catching Water (Discontinued, rewrite in progress)

The Truth Comes Out

Bethany’s POV

                When Gryffindor calls me to the meeting room, it causes a great ruckus in the common room.

                “They only call people when their in trouble!” Patricia tells me.

                “Or they want to give you private lessons!” a fifth year named Kane adds. People keep wishing me luck, patting me on the shoulders, giving me pitying looks, or looking at me enviously.

                “Enough!” I say. They quiet, and I’m left to contemplate on how that worked. “Don’t worry about me. Carry on with whatever you were doing.”

                I walk out of the room with everyone staring after me. The walk through the corridors is unsettling. It’s like someone is watching me. I find my hand unconsciously drifting towards the handle of my wand.

                What are you going to do? I ask myself. Use an attacker as a chandelier decoration? Actually... That’s not a bad idea.

                As I daydream about dangling Malfoy from a chandelier, my feet take me to the meeting room of the founders. I knock once, and open the door, not bothering to use any of the medieval gestures that everyone’s been using.

                “Miss Rose.” Ravenclaw inclines her head at me. The room falls silent.

                Cricket. Cricket.

                “What’s everyone looking at me for?” I ask. Gryffindor clears his throat.

                “Have you discovered anything?” He asks.

                I shake my head. “I know I’m supposed to be protecting him from something, I just don’t know what. Although... He did seem a bit depressed last I saw him. If you all can tell me anything. Anything at all?”

                No reply.

                “Alright then.” I sigh. “Is that all?”

                Slytherin coughs. “It seems that you declined a marriage proposal.”

                I shrug. “So?”

                “The Bellos family has much influence over many people.” Hufflepuff explains. “They might use your decline as an excuse to say that a wizard with any muggle blood will go rabid.”

                “Oh...” I say. “Maybe I should have just never replied. I just don’t like it when people make suggestions like that. I am definitely no ones property.”

                They look at me like I’d said something strange, but they don’t say anything. I sit down and take a piece of parchment, a quill in my hand.

                “So, if innocent lives can be spared, what do we do?” I ask.

                “You save them?” Ravenclaw says.

                “Yup!” I grin. “Better get started. I can’t change much about this, but I suggest...” I think for a moment. “That you create a muggle-blood protection system.”

                “How?” Helga asks.

                I raise my eyebrows. “Just take them into your homes. Pretend that their your children. I bet there’s some spell or potion that could even change their appearance. Don’t tell anyone about it except the families that will be participating in it. And you can add and subtract anything. I’m not an expert.”