Since going blind at 6 years old, Fiona Diggory has lived in the shadow of her twin brother, Cedric.
Now entering her 6th year at Hogwarts Fiona finds herself thrown into a new friendship with Fred and George Weasley while trying to determine the m...
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"Eight Galleons!? Have you gone mad!?" Seamus Finnigan's voice exploded across the library like a firecracker, loud and full of indignation. Madam Pince's head snapped up from her desk, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. She fixed Seamus with a glare that could have melted cauldrons. The Gryffindor flushed, dropping his voice to a harsh whisper that still managed to carry. "That's daylight robbery, that is."
The silence that followed was as tense as a drawn bowstring.
Fiona's fingers rested lightly on the embossed cover of her braille textbook, her attention shifting to the two Gryffindors seated across from her. Though she couldn't see their expressions, she didn't need to. The tension crackling between Seamus and Dean Thomas was almost palpable, like a charged spell waiting to be unleashed.
"Harold Dingle in Ravenclaw is selling twice as much for half the price," Dean murmured, his voice a calm counterpoint to Seamus's agitation.
Fiona let out a derisive snort. "Harold Dingle?" she said, the disbelief in her tone unmistakable. "Dingle wouldn't know the difference between a Forgetfulness Potion and a glass of pumpkin juice."
Seamus and Dean exchanged uneasy glances, as if they were balancing on the edge of a very unstable charm, unsure whether it would hold or explode in their faces. Fiona's fingers traced absent-minded circles on the edge of her textbook.
"And where do you suppose Dingle's getting his supply of—" she paused, the soft shuffle of footsteps catching her ear. She waited, perfectly still, until they faded into the distance. "—Polyjuice?" she whispered, her voice as sharp as the snap of a whip.
Seamus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Hard to say. Brews it the same way as yourself, I reckon," he muttered, though his tone lacked conviction.
Fiona's brow furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Dingle couldn't brew a proper Sleeping Draught if his life depended on it," she retorted. "He didn't even scrape an 'E' in his Potions O.W.L.s. But if you're eager to trust a tosser like that with something as complex as Polyjuice, be my guest."
Her words sliced through the air like a well-aimed hex, leaving Seamus and Dean glancing warily at one another. Unease hung between them, crackling like electricity.
Seamus cleared his throat, faltering slightly before he spoke again, his voice quieter now. "So, what... is it possible Dingle's in Advanced Potions? And... maybe you just didn't realise, what with—"
"Ten galleons," Fiona interrupted, her voice cold and unyielding.
Dean shot Seamus a warning look before nodding reluctantly. "Alright, alright," he muttered, leaning in closer as if afraid of being overheard. "We need it before the first Hogsmeade trip."
"Not a problem," Fiona replied softly, her voice barely more than a murmur. She tilted her head, listening intently as they shuffled away from the table, leaving her alone once more with the comforting quiet of her solitary study. "Come find me in November."
