After hearing about Lord Voldemort's continued existence during the Quirrell Court Case, Lucius fears that he will be marked a traitor if he does nothing to help his master return to power. He slips Tom Riddle's diary to Ginny Weasley and the terror...
Black static pressed against his eyes and then moved to travel down his arms as tangible electric pressure. He tried to focus, to form thoughts from the quagmire, to see images through the ink blotting his vision. His headache groaned and swayed, building with his focus until he could see a man standing before him in faded colours. Merlin winced, glass behind his eyes now, but he squinted toward the person—and recognized him.
Salazar Slytherin spoke soundless, his words nothing more than the static dancing down Merlin's arms. He watched as Salazar frowned, and shook his head before turning his back to Merlin.
Wait—
Merlin tried to reach out too him. What had he tried to tell him? But the next moment, Salazar had faded back into the black.
Merlin woke with a start. The pain had followed him through the dream. He pressed his palms against his eyes, but when the static returned he winced and massaged his temples instead. After a few minutes, the pain lessened and he was able to sit up without the room spinning.
It must've been a memory—one of those blocked by the curse. He winced as he thought of it. Maybe he should ask Hermione to help him research memory curses, though he quailed at the thought of her asking why. If she knew—she might just drag him to Dumbledore herself. No, maybe he'll do some research himself.
Now that he was awake, Merlin felt cold. He shivered, and pulled his blanket up around him—but when it didn't help the fire in the common room popped into his mind. Pulling the blanket with him, Merlin headed down to the common room. But when he reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw something that brought him to an abrupt halt.
Snape was standing behind the long black couch in front of the fire, staring into the flames. He turned around when he heard Merlin and in the gloom, Merlin almost missed the sombre expression he wore. The professor cleared his throat and took a step toward Merlin.
"There's been another attack."
Merlin took a sharp intake of breath. "Are they—?"
"Petrified," Snape said, and he grimaced. "No doubt sneaking out for a midnight snack." He paused. "I need you to come with me."
Merlin blanched. "You don't honestly think I—?"
"Of course not," Snape interrupted in a furious whisper. "But as you were able to hear it last time... Dumbledore has requested you join us for a search of the castle."
Merlin stared at him. "I'll grab my cloak."
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Eyes trained on the hem of the Potion Master's cloak, Merlin trudged back to the common room. He was exhausted. They'd spent the remainder of the night in a fruitless search of the school without finding so much as a scale. The student who'd been attacked was Colin Creevey, a Gryffindor first year who had snuck out of bed for a midnight snack—they'd found a bunch of grapes beside his body, in addition to a camera with its internal components melted.
