The Art of Dying

Chapter Twelve: A Sliver of Truth Revealed

"Blaise," Erica rose to her feet, embracing him in a warm hug. "It's so good to see you again."

"You as well," he offered her a nod in return, before stepping to one side. "There are others who want to speak with you as well, of course."

It took close to ten minutes for Erica to greet everyone again, and she and Fred had to work on expanding the compartment in order to fit everyone. In the end Erica and Fred ended up in Erica's original seat by the window, with Erica sitting comfortably in his lap and the journal safely tucked away back in her trunk. Next to them came Draco, Harry, Blaise and Pansy, whilst across from them sat Luna, Ginny, Hermione, Neville and Ron.

"Where's George?" Erica frowned, twisting around so she could see Fred properly.

"With Lee," Fred shrugged as best he could with their position, resting his chin on her shoulder when she resumed a normal position. "They're working on the schematics for a joke shop. We have a place we like in Diagon that we've put a deposit on, and we're working on interior layout now."

"That's amazing," Erica squeezed his hand. "Are you sure you don't want to go and join them? It's your business as well, Fred."

"Business can wait," Fred shook his head. "I have spent an entire summer planning business with George. He can spend the length of one train ride without me."

"If you insist," Erica shook her head, turning back to the others. "Hermione, Ron, I've heard you've both been made Prefects. Draco and Pansy as well. Congratulations."

"It's a pain," Draco groaned, and Ron looked like he was in agreeance despite Hermione's disapproving glare. "We had to report to the Prefects carriage earlier for welcoming and to receive our instructions, which were basically that we were to help the first-years with whatever they might need and patrol the corridors every so often."

"How fun," Erica rolled her eyes. "I'm thankful, at any rate, that Severus had sense enough not to make me a Prefect. I think I'd rather bathe in acid."

"It isn't so terrible," Pansy shook her head, smirking slightly. "There are certain... privileges... that come with being a Prefect. It will be rather nice to have such a large bathroom to myself after all, and having power over the other students does hold a certain appeal."

As the others continued to talk among themselves, Erica hadn't failed to notice the way Luna watched her over her upside-down magazine, which was called The Quibbler. She did not seem to need to blink as much as normal humans. She stared and stared at Erica, who was rather wishing that she had taken a different seat now, if only because she grew uncomfortable under her gaze, fully aware of how different she looked.

The train rattled onwards, speeding them out into open country. It was an odd, unsettled sort of day; one moment the carriage was full of sunlight and the next they were passing beneath ominously grey clouds.

"Guess what I got for my birthday?" Neville finally broke the silence that had settled over them all.

"Another Remembrall?" Harry teased, and Erica remembered the marble-like device Neville's grandmother had sent him in an effort to improve his abysmal memory.

"No," Neville shook his head. "I could do with one, though, I lost the old one ages ago... no, look at this..."

He dug the hand that was not keeping a firm grip on Trevor, his toad, into his schoolbag and after a little bit of rummaging pulled out what appeared to be a small grey cactus in a pot, except that it was covered with what looked like boils rather than spines.

"Mimbulus mimbletonia," he said proudly.

Erica stared at the thing. It was pulsating slightly, giving it the rather sinister look of some diseased internal organ.