‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - ✦ - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

LAYLA HAD HER OWN SUSPICIONS about the safety of the school, solely based on the headmaster's reminders and that rumour from her priestly friend. It was around quarter to three in the morning, and she had too much energy to do nothing.

Still wearing her favourite psir of navy blue pajamas and a white shawl, she tiptoed out of the dormitory,

The hall was almost completely dark, save for the small areas near the window panes that were exposed to the moonlight. Various portraits slept in their frames while others weren't in their canvases at all, leaving them blank as a starless night in the new moon.  The silence was so thick, one could hear a pin drop into the floor. Layla hid behind a pillar, looking out for that cat, Mrs. Norris.

At the end of the hallway, beside a peculiar suit of armour, she saw something that appeared to stick out, quite literally, from the floor like someone's crystallized sculpture. Layla tiptoed over to see how it looked up close, and swore that something was moving in the walls. She looked leftward, and found only a portrait of a man wearing a familiar necklace.

She approached the portrait, but the moonlight just happened to shine on the silvery thing, which turned out to be some kind of lever, turning Layla's attention from the portrait. The redhead approached the lever, crouched down to take a closer look, and gasped.

A trapdoor? What's this doing here?

She examined the rounded door that was thankfully closed. With slightly trembling hands, she pulled on the lever and backed away, hearing the sound of moving bricks. The wall closest to the portrait of the man with the golden necklace, opened up into a large passage with a spiral staircase that led to the very depths of the school.

Layla scratched her head. Oh darn it, I left my flashlight in the dorm — wait, why do I need a flashlight? I'm a witch!

She took her wand from the pocket of her pajamas, and whispered "Lumos!"

Walking through the mysterious passage, she found herself surrounded by darkness — it was even darker than the hallway, given that there was no window to light the way. She looked at the wwlls and found numerous portraits hanging from the upper sections; all wearing a similar set of clothes — black, with long sleeves, some with ornate collars and jewelry, but the most important detail was the medallions on their necks. She rook out her own from behind the nightshirt, and approached one of the portraits. It was of a man who looked almost exactly like Father Goldstein, only more ancient and clearly deceased.

Beside the portrait was a suit of armour, its rusted metal strangely out of place amidst the well-preserved porttaits.  Curious Layla approached the artifact and took a deep breath. The air smelled strongly of sulfur, which made her wince and cough a little.  She then removed the helmet from where it was placed on the wooden mannequin, and carefully put it on.

She stared at the wall behind where the helmet used to cover, and found a patch of black dust covering the area, perhaps because of the wooden mannequin. She cautiously approached the wall, and started rubbing off the soot. There was a strange seal on it; something like a giant squid devouring a whisp of light.

When she next opened her eyes as she lay on the castle hallway, the helmet mysteriously removed, they shone an unusual shade of cerulean.

And in her right hand, she clutched a mysterious book.

✧

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the other girl with the red hair."

"Which one?"

"Did you see her face?"

"Did you see her scar?"

Whispers followed Jasmine from the moment she left the dormitory that morning. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at her, or doubled back to pass her in the corridors again, staring. Jasmine wished they wouldn't, because dhe was trying to concentrate on finding her way to classes.

Layla was looking tired, and she wished she was allowed coffee that the adults drank at the high table. She realized that she would have to get used to her medallion nearly burning her, because Professor Quirrell really felt off.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow,
rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that one had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless one asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Layla was sure the coats of armor could walk.

The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door one were trying to open. The Grey Lady was always happy to point new Ravenclaws in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two rosaries and a crucifix if one met him when one was late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Anthony and Layla managed to get on the wrong side of him on their very first morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to some out-of-order room with a strange symbol carved in the door. He wouldn't believe they were lost, was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were
rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing.

Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamp like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one oe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.

And then, once one had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a
lot more to magic, as Layla quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny
words.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets.

Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emetic the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Jasmine's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight . He did give Layla a subtle wave when he checked her name.

Professor McGonagall was again different. Layla (and possibly, Anthony, Padma and Jasmine) had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class. ("Miss Campbell, it isn't advisable to go running around the hallways at three in the morning.")

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Jasmine Potter had made any difference to her match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had turned blue and bronze and pointy (with a letter "M" decorating the part close to the eye) and gave Jasmine a rare smile.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather (some Gryffindors revealed it in passing); for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Only Layla took the DADA class seriously, her essays often more comprehensive than the teacher's lessons. Hermione often had to wonder how Layla was able to understand whatever Quirrell was talking about, and Jasmine had a sneaking suspicion that Layla knew a few Dark creatures herself, but she wouldn't dare ask.

Layla was very relieved to find out that she wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like her, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Anthony or Padma didn't have much of a head start.

Friday was an important day for Layla, Padma and Anthony. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.

"What have we got today?" Jasmine asked Anthony as she poured sugar on her porridge.

"Double Potions with the Hufflepuffs," said Anthony. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them - we'll be able to see if it's true."

"Wish Flitwick favored us," said Layla. Professor Flitwick was head of Ravenclaw House, but it hadn't stopped him from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before. Layla was also rubbing her head after another attack occurred - without alerting any of her dorm mates.

Just then, the mail arrived. Layla had gotten used to this by now, but it had given her a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.

Plato hadn't brought Layla anything so far. He sometimes flew in to nibble her ear and have a bit of bacon before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, he fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Layla's plate. Layla tore it open at once. It said, in a very elegant scrawl:

Hey Layla

I received your letter from two weeks ago. Congratulations on getting sorted into Ravenclaw! I'm hoping to join you at Hogwarts next year. By the way, you mentioned that sirens usually call their victims at three in the morning? How come it went all out on you? Maybe it knows that you'll defeat it one day.

As for me, I'm mostly safe. However, there's this one banker, Mr. Jafar Hadjirasul, who seems to know my location. I swear I don't have a tracking device on me (it would be scary if I did). I still have the nightmares and Mr. Jordayne has gotten worse since you left. Grandma showed me some of the jewelry and she told me that I can have the Egyptian themed ones when I start at Hogwarts.

Hope to see you again this Christmas!

-Nahie

Layla took her quill from one of her robe pockets, wrote her own reply to the letter on the back of the note, and sent Plato off again.

"That's a cute nickname. Is she afflicted or what?", remarked the snobbish-looking upperclassmen girl. Layla looked up at her, then shook her head.

"It isn't polite to assume one's younger sister is afflicted, Chang."

"Just saying.", Cho Chang waved off; "can't have another weirdo in this house, don't you think?"

Anthony and Padma stopped eating to listen and stare.

"Go find someone else to disturb.", said Layla, who quickly finished her breakfast and sped off.

At the start-of-term banquet, Layla had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked Jasmine. By the end of the first Potions lesson, she knew she'd been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Jasmine - he hated her.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Jasmine's name.

"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Jasmine Potter. Our new - celebrity."

Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff who had gotten on Jasmine's wrong foot early in the morning, sniggered behind Layla's head. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were almost black like Nahida's, but they had none of Nahida's warmth (or haunted look). They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you
how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Layla and Anthony exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Padma was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.

For the next few minutes, Snape questioned Jasmine about something related to the subject, while Layla focused on taking down notes. She wasn't expecting to see black ink flow from one of the many little portraits on the walls, which startled her so much she almost yelped. She was standing and looking around, terrified.

"Sit down," he snapped at her. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a
stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Ravenclaw House for your cheek, Potter."

Things didn't improve for the Ravenclaws as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Smith, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Smith had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon.

Layla had somehow managed to implode Anthony's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes.
Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Layla, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over her arms and legs. Worse still, the familiar burning sensation was back, and she swore she saw that kraken thing laugh at her misery from behind Snape.

"Idiot girl!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Layla whimpered as boils started to pop up all over her nose. It was an accident, something blocked my vision!

"Take her up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Anthony. Then he rounded on Jasmine and Padma, who had been working next to Layla.

"You - Potter - why didn't you tell her not to add the quills? Thought she'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Ravenclaw."
This was so unfair that Jasmine opened her mouth to argue, but Padma kicked her behind their cauldron.

"Don't push it," she muttered, "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."

✧

Layla spent almost an entire day recovering from her boils with her books for company. After some of the classes were over, Anthony and Padma both paid her a visit, bringing her sweets and crrry respectively.

"Are you alright?", Anthony spoke up, taking a grape form the fruits bowl.

Layla nodded.

"How did you melt his cauldron? I was actually expecting you to be someone of few accidents.", asked Padma.

"Something blocked my vision and the next thing I know, our potion was ruined."

"What did you see?"

Layla hesitated; should I tell them? No, they probably won't believe me. Padma was asleep earlier and Jasmine didn't wake up when I called her...

"Anthony, did you feel something burning at three earlier?"

Anthony looked up from the fruits bowl (he was debating whether to pick a slice of orange or a raspberry), startled.

"So you felt it?"

"More than that.", Layla added. She then told her friends about the ordeal earlier, including the part where she met Headmaster Dippet's portrait.

"How come it attacked you all-out?", questioned Anthony. "All I heard was the usual siren's call."

"My sister asked the same question.", deadpanned Layla.

"Maybe it's because Layla is special in some way?", theorized Padma.

"Special how?", asked Anthony.

"I'd advise you to look into this Drusilla Black. You might get your answers there."

"And the case?"

"The case will reveal itself, just wait for the waters to recede."

Layla had a sneaking suspicion that Padma 's words had an ominous tinge to it.

And then, she shivered.