PotterInk RV: 2

Round 2: Entries

Alvena Connor

Not handed in.

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Icarus Keii

Not handed in.

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Jess Baress

Not handed in.

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Ophelia Statton

**some language present...?**

The candlelight paints an eerie glow on every inch of the Hall, dimly mysterious and almost watery in illumination.

It's not the warm glow I expected; maybe it's just the fact that it's Halloween, supposedly the Day of the Dead. I spear a potato with my fork, a sense of unease stirring as everyone else stuffs their face in logical obliviousness. I've never really liked Halloween--it's always freaked me out, so much so I spent much of my earlier years hiding under my bed when the time came.

"What's up?" Kaz asks, raising her pencilled eyebrows as she pours gravy over her food.

"Nothing," I say, trying to shake the weird feeling off. I take a roll and keep eating, the food surprisingly tasteless. What's wrong with me? Usually I love food. I chew mechanically, eyes roaming the Great Hall as if I expect a giant boulder to swing in through the wall or the ceiling to collapse.

My friends seem completely at ease, while only serves to make me even more jittery. Elena is reading a book while eating, while Rachel and Ash are at the Gryffindor table chatting freely. Though even as I watch, I realise a weird trend carrying on along their table. The source is easily identified by suspicion; I pull my wand out of my robes, hatred intensifying in my chest.

Calla Shaw and her crew are jinxing plates in such a way that they fly into the Gryffindors' faces. One of them, Daniella Harmus, grins callously, twirling her black hair as she flicks her wand under the table. A first year squeals as his plate of mash flies into his face, leaving him with a mask of potato; another has the contents of her goblet splashed onto her robes, and another's food keeps disappearing. Jerks. After five years, I don't think I'd be in Slytherin for anything now.

"Look what--" I begin, turning to Elena, but the doors of the Hall suddenly burst open. The figure of Filch the Caretaker looms into view as he staggers down the aisle like a drunkard.

"TROLL!" Filch screams hoarsely, his sallow face contorted in a spasm of fear. His eyes are almost protruding from their sockets as he whirls on the spot, Mrs Norris mewing scratchily in the sudden dead silence. "TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS!"

The Hall erupts as the dread in my chest sinks into fear; my fork clatters as the sudden surge of adrenaline knocks the breath out of me for a minute. "I knew it," I whisper to myself, looking at Kaz as her face drains of all colour.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why I hate Halloween.

"Prefects!" The Head yells over the hubbub. "Lead all your students to the dormitories! Slytherins, please enter the spare classroom on the third floor, next to the painting of Merlin!"

"Come on!" Katherine hisses, grabbing my sleeve as we push towards the exit. Our common room is in a high tower; the six Ravenclaw prefects start yelling orders over all the other houses. Some of the first years seem about to burst into tears as they stumble in messy lines towards the staircase.