As the month of October neared its end, most paths around the Hogwarts grounds were littered with dead and dried leaves that would crunch below our feet as we walked over them. Every time we strolled down to Hagrid's hut for our Magical Creatures class, the pumpkins near his hut would be twice their previous size.
For the past few weeks, I hadn't really shown up to Quidditch practice. I was a mere reserve seeker, but Flint still required my presence. However, after skipping Quidditch practice three times in a row, I hadn't been approached by Flint again about the next practice dates. I just assumed by that point that I wasn't on the team anymore. I wasn't sure if it was because of Malfoy or something, but I had lost complete interest in Quidditch, recently. And I didn't care what the Slytherins thought about my lack of effort to be a team player.
After my successful veritaserum attempt, I was obsessed with staying cooped up in Myrtle's bathroom. I wanted to start some other complicated potion work, but I just hadn't figured out what yet. I was kind of hoping that James Lancaster would approach me about his scar, asking for a more accurate healing method, but he hadn't, and I felt too chicken to bother him about it. I did, however, continue reading up on heals and ointments. What I had discovered were various potions designed for specific types of burns. To proceed, I had to know how James had gotten his scar. Was it by a spell? A magical creature? Or even just some plain old fire? But again, I was too cowardly to dare ask him about it.
On Halloween morning after breakfast, students were crowding around the Entrance Hall, surrounding Filch as he checked off some names from a really long list. I had completely forgotten that the Hogsmeade trip was today! Thankfully, I hadn't forgotten to give in my form a few weeks back when Snape had asked for it.
I spotted Hermione with her friends Harry and Ron by the entrance, and so I walked over to them.
"Don't worry about me," Harry said, looking slightly crestfallen. "I'll see you at the feast. Have a good time."
I stood silently and awkwardly behind Hermione and Ron, hoping to find the right moment to dive into their conversation. They waved at Harry, unaware of my presence behind them. Harry noticed me and he gave me a quick nod. I waved at him.
"Staying here, Potter?" Malfoy shouted. He was in line with Crabbe and Goyle. "Scared of passing the dementors?"
Harry ignored Malfoy's taunts and swiftly departed onto the staircases. I whipped my head in Malfoy's direction, seeing that he was cackling with his two goons. Rolling my eyes, I turned back to Hermione and Ron who both had finally noticed my presence.
"Oh, hi, Maeve," Hermione said, her face lighting up. Ron smiled awkwardly at me.
"Hey, so Harry isn't coming?" I asked.
"He can't. His aunt and uncle didn't sign the permission slip," Hermione said, pursing her lips.
Hermione's curly brown hair was tied up today, opening her face up a bit more, and revealing her mocha brown eyes. Under the sunlight shining in from outside, her desert sand skin appeared smoother and her cheeks seemed a tinge pinker.
"He should've gotten Dean to forge the signature before asking McGonagall about it," Ron scrunched his nose in displeasure. His pumpkin orange hair was unstyled, as I often noticed it to be, and his long nose was sprinkled with a plethora of freckles. His hooded eyes were an azure blue and they gazed at me expectantly. "What?"
"Oh," I said, suddenly realizing that I was just stood there, staring at them both blankly. "Well, shall we go?"
Hogsmeade village was located a five-minute carriage ride away from Hogwarts. I felt vaguely out of place alone with Ron and Hermione in the carriage. I hadn't exactly spoken to Hermione outside of class for a while now because I had re-gotten used to eating at the Slytherin table, Malfoy not being much of an issue anymore. So, sitting here with them was more of a mute experience on my end.
"Crookshanks doesn't know any better, Ron," Hermione insisted after Ron pulled out his rat, stating that he was relieved Hermione's cat wasn't around.
"I'm sure he knows exactly what he's doing," Ron persisted. He was hiding Scabbers, his rat, underneath his jacket, its little whiskery nose popping out.
"Crookshanks is a cat, Ronald. Cats have the instinct to attack rats. That's just how nature works," Hermione huffed, crossing her arms in irritation.
"He's vile! Don't you remember how he tried to attack me the first time I met him?!"
And the two went back and forth for the entire ride to Hogsmeade. Not to sugarcoat it, but it was unbearable. When we arrived, I swiftly and quietly escaped both of them. Many carriages had arrived by now, and I ambled behind some random students, trying not to stand out too much so that Ron and Hermione wouldn't notice my disappearance.
I walked inconspicuously behind a bunch of Ravenclaws as we all entered Hogsmeade. The decorations of the village were fitting of the traditional Halloween theme; orange and black colours especially accentuated; pumpkins lit with candles on the inside; spider webs scattered about (although, those buildings could very well just be ancient).
"Maeve!" One of the Ravenclaws suddenly trailed behind. It was Amirah Flowers. She beamed at me, her cheeks rosy and her eyes twinkling. Her ash brown hair had remained the same as before, but her previously blue streak of hair hanging over the side of her face was now many shades lighter than before. "We haven't spoken in a while."
"Yeah, hi, Amirah," I huffed a small laugh. We kept walking, still behind the herd of Ravenclaws. "Right, I'm still using those potion books you lent me ages ago."
"That's okay, Madam Pince won't care," she shrugged, casually pushing her hair behind her shoulders.
"Wouldn't she notice if some books went missing for so long? Especially from the restricted section?" I wondered, looking at Amirah curiously. It was a mystery to me how she even got her hands on those books.
Amirah laughed awkwardly, hesitating with her response.
"Well," she finally said. "She's my, um... well, I mean, I got her permission. So, it's quite alright."
"Huh?" I raised an eyebrow at her, studying her reaction. She avoided my eyes. "She's your what?"
"Hey, look!" she exclaimed abruptly, pointing at an inn with a sign that held three broomsticks. "It's your first time at Hogsmeade, isn't it? Since you're a third-year? We should get a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks Inn."
I decided not to press on the matter as she clearly did not want to talk about it. I merely nodded at her proposal, and she guided me into the inn.
We were suddenly greeted by a warm wave of the inn's atmosphere. The place was oddly already crowded despite Hogwarts students having arrived just minutes ago. There was a small fume of pumpkin spice in the air. It was clean and welcoming.
"Let's sit over there," Amirah pointed at an empty booth by a corner. There weren't many seats available. Students were decidedly quite keen on having butterbeer during this bittersweet fall season.
I slid into the booth, next to Amirah who peered around eagerly. There was a small menu on the table, but I didn't bother browsing through it as I had already decided that I wanted butterbeer.
A floating notepad and pen flew next to our table. I glanced at it curiously.
"Just say your order to it and it will note it down," Amirah informed me. "I'll have a pumpkin pie and a butterbeer."
"I'll have the same thing," I added without another thought. The pen scribbled hurriedly on its notepad. The scribbled page ripped off from the pad and flew into what seemed like the kitchens of the Three Broomsticks Inn. The pen and notepad then floated to the booth next to ours to take the order of other students.
"You'll love the butterbeer," Amirah gushed, beaming. "Unless you've had some before coming here?"
"I have, at my home," I informed her with a shrug. She nodded knowingly.
"Right, sometimes I forget that not everyone is a muggleborn like me," she released a small restrained laugh in her hand, her otherwise pale cheeks turning slightly pink. "I wonder what it would have been like to be raised knowing that you are a witch."
"Well, I wonder what it's like not knowing that I'm a witch," I pointed out with a small laugh.
"Right, that's true!" Amirah said heartily. "Don't take a muggle studies class to find out, though."
"Huh?" I looked at her curiously. "Why not?"
"I tried taking one, but it was too weird. I guess, there are many muggle things that for me, it's completely normal, but apparently, for wizards, it is very bizarre. Like movies! Have you ever watched a movie before?"
"A movie?" I repeated, my brow furrowed as I tried to recall the first time I had heard that word. "I forget what it is, but I swear I've heard about it before."
"See? That's — to me, watching a movie is such a normal, everyday, everybody-does-it kind of thing! But in the wizarding world, people are usually clueless about it."
"So, what is a movie?"
Amirah opened her mouth to answer, but her eyes immediately caught onto something behind me. Assuming that our food was ready to be served, I spun around with a hungry look in my eyes. A boy with bright red hair stood behind me, and he waved awkwardly at us, his beetle-black eyes disappearing into the happiness of his smile.
"Hey, mind if we join you? It looks like everywhere else is full," Isaiah Ainsley said. James Lancaster and Elijah Hadleigh were stood behind him, looking unbothered, but Wyatt Nye's attention was completely focused elsewhere almost purposefully avoiding our gaze.
"Uh, yeah, sure." Amirah acquiesced to the proposition. She scooted over in the semi-circular booth, allowing space for Isaiah to sit next to her. I quickly came to the realization that I also had to scoot over in the booth, and I did so until I was sat right next to Amirah. James slid next to me with Elijah and Wyatt, respectively. Wyatt was absolutely avoiding looking at Amirah, who didn't even seem to bother noticing him. After knowing what Wyatt had done to Amirah at the start of classes, I couldn't help but find the whole predicament slightly amusing now that the two would have to eat together at the same table.
At this moment, the pen and notepad duo flew back to our table and took the S4's order before leaving again. Elijah and Wyatt were whispering incoherent words to each other. I fixed my attention back to Amirah who looked slightly flustered surrounded by everyone like this.
"Right, I don't think I have properly introduced everyone to Amirah," Isaiah remarked suddenly. "Amirah, this is, as you know, Wyatt. That's Elijah. James, here. And, well you already know Maeve."
They all nodded upon hearing their names, but Wyatt had merely crossed his arms and looked up as if there was something particularly interesting about the dusty and cracked ceiling of The Three Broomsticks. Wyatt scarily reminded me of Draco Malfoy sometimes with his light blond hair and his grey eyes. Only, Wyatt's hair was almost always ungroomed and messy and his eyes held a greater air of innocence than Malfoy's ever could.
"Nice to meet you all," Amirah voiced timidly, her hands retreating to gently hug her body.
"You too," James nodded casually, a length of his black hair bouncing ever so slightly above his hidden scar. His dark eyes kept glancing at me as he seemingly repressed a smile.
"It's nice to finally make you acquaintance," Elijah responded rather formally and pompously. His black hair with its blonde strands above one of his eyes was neat and tidy as was his apparel, accentuating the subtle air of arrogance about him. His bright blue eyes fixed Amirah's face a little too long, making her look away suddenly and awkwardly.
Six butterbeers floated to our table and positioned themselves in front of each of us. Amirah and I's pumpkin pies had arrived along with everyone else's orders. James had a generous serving of sausages with fried eggs and toast. Isaiah and Wyatt had each ordered bacon sandwiches, while Elijah had modestly asked for a simple pumpkin porridge.
"You girls are going straight for dessert?" Isaiah pointed out with surprise.
"I'm not too hungry, today," Amirah said, pressing her lips together.
"Me neither, I guess..." I added. The truth was that I was, in fact, hungry, but I had simply copied Amirah's order earlier because I didn't know what else to order. I glanced at James' plate, which was completely filled with sausages. My plate had an eighth slice of pumpkin pie. I knew I was going to regret not ordering more, but I felt too awkward to bring it up, for some reason.
"Well, bon appétit, everyone!" Isaiah said brightly before we all dug into our food.
James' plate had various assortments of sausages, and his fried egg looked so crispy, it made my mouth water. I hated that I was fantasizing about eating from his plate. How improper! But, blimey, I was almost finished with my pumpkin pie, and I was definitely still going to be hungry afterwards. While everyone munched on or spoke of random topics, I was thinking about how I could possibly order food again when I had just said that I wasn't that hungry today. Why the hell did I lie?!
James caught me eyeing his plate and his eyes went wide with curiosity. I looked away, trying to make it look like I was merely casually looking in his direction, but he caught my gaze again.
"You want some?" he asked, sliding some sausages to the side of his plate, closest to where my plate was.
"Er... well," I looked around. The others were engrossed in other conversations entirely. Isaiah and Amirah spoke together while Wyatt and Elijah were still whispering about something incoherent. "I'm curious to know how they cook their sausages here."
James scooted his plate closer to mine and slid a piece of sausage onto my plate.
"Try this one," he insisted. "It's seasoned with maple syrup."
I poked the piece of meat with my fork and then slipped it into my mouth. Its salty yet sweet flavours enveloped my tongue. I felt like I was melting.
"It's good, right?" he asked, his eyes widening with interest.
"It's so delicious!" I enthused, waving my free hand around with excitement.
"Try this one too." James slid another piece of sausage onto my plate. This one was redder than the others. "It's spicy."
And it was. James laughed as I, red-faced, quickly took a sip from my butterbeer to blend down the spiciness of the sausage. I wasn't sure that alcohol and spiciness were a good mix, but somehow, it did help to soothe my burning throat.
"You okay there, Maeve?" Isaiah asked from Amirah's other side. I had been fanning my open mouth from all that spiciness.
"Er, yeah, all good," I affirmed, giving him a small thumbs up. He momentarily raised an unconvinced eyebrow at me, and James laughed beside me.
James gave me some more maple syrup sausages, which countered the hot taste that lingered in my mouth.
"Fanks," I said through bites, my hand placed in front of my mouth.
We were mainly quiet as we all munched onto our food. My appetite wasn't necessarily satisfied, but I figured we would be going to Honeydukes later anyway. By the time most of us were done, a tray floated by our table and our empty plates, bowls, and eating utensils levitated onto it. As it floated away, our receipts flew in front of each of us.
"What do you all want to do next?" Isaiah asked us all brightly as we started to leave the booth, leaving our payment on the table. "Maeve's never been to Hogsmeade before, hasn't she?"
"Er, yeah, I'm a third-year..." I confirmed with an awkward laugh. "But you guys can go ahead and do what you usually do. I don't want to be an inconvenience or anything."
"It's fine, Blackwood," James assured with a nonchalant shrug. "We'll show you around."
We shuffled out of The Three Broomsticks, and I looked around at my fifth-year friends expectantly. Our hands, frightened by the sudden cold air outside, stuffed themselves into our pockets as we mindlessly walked down the cobbled streets of Hogsmeade Village.
"We should show her the Shrieking Shack," Elijah suggested with a smirk as we trekked down the street.
"She might cry, though," James inserted cheekily. "It's pretty scary."
"Cry? I wouldn't cry," I asserted with exaggerated indignance.
"Hmm, I dunno," James pressed on teasingly. "You're still a little kid. Being thirteen and all—"
"Shut," I interrupted quickly, hating to be reminded of my age. "Bring me inside the shrieking shack."
"Well, maybe not inside," Isaiah piped in with a hesitant and concerned smile. "I mean, I don't think we're allowed to anyway."
"Looks like Isaiah's scared," Elijah teased, throwing his head back with laughter.
"I — Well, to be fair, it's quite literally a haunted house," Isaiah protested, a tinge of repressed fear in his voice.
"Aw, the poor boy is scared," James added, laughing along with Elijah. Wyatt seemed to want to chime in, but his eyes kept glancing at Amirah as if suddenly remembering the misunderstanding between them and cringing away in embarrassment.
"It's okay. I don't really like haunted houses either," Amirah said with an understanding expression at Isaiah.
"You two are so boring," Elijah shook his head with disapproval at Amirah and Isaiah.
"So, are we going or not?" I asked impatiently.
"Don't worry, Blackwood. That's where we're headed," James said assuringly, smirking almost deviously at me.
We'd been walking for barely a few minutes, but we had already reached the edge of Hogsmeade Village. The trees around us were bare of their leaves. There was a crunching sound at our feet as we stepped over the leaves that littered the pathway. It was only slightly breezy, but I shivered in my autumn coat that seemed to only be giving me a minimal amount of warmth.
We shuffled through the paths of the forest, fog forming from our breaths as we marched on. Finally, we reached a sort of immense clearing at the edge of the forest. An ancient and dilapidated black wooden house stood much farther beyond a dark wooden fence in the vast open space.
"Is that the place?" I asked as we stood quietly watching nothing happen from afar. The fifth years around me all nodded and hummed in affirmation. "Looks pretty passive if you ask me."
"You haven't heard about what happens in there at night," Elijah scoffed with amusement. "Apparently some there's some sick, wild creature that tortures people into insanity in the dead of the night. Townsfolks claim they have been hearing screams coming from that place for decades now."
I blinked, unsure of what to say.
"Ah, look at Blackwood," James laughed. "She's definitely scared."
"I—I'm really not," I stammered.
"You sure about that? I swear I can see you shaking in your boots," James insisted, smiling through his taunts.
"That's because I'm cold. When are we getting inside that place, anyway? It's freezing out here!" I exclaimed, suddenly emboldened by James' lack of faith in me.
"No, Maeve, you don't have to prove anything to anyone," Amirah said, gently placing a hand on my arm as if that would restrain me from running off to The Shrieking Shack. "We can just peacefully watch the place from afar."
"I say we go," Wyatt spoke for the first time around Amirah today. "I want to know what's in there anyway."
"You guys are bonkers," Isaiah said, looking at us with concern. "You know that place is known to be a werewolf hideout, don't you?"
"Right, apparently people could also hear howling coming from in there," James added with an amused smirk as he waited for me to give a reaction, but I did not give him that satisfaction.
"So, are we going or not?" I persisted with impatience.
"Yeah, let's just go," Elijah affirmed as he started walking without us. Wyatt, James, and I trailed behind him, but Isaiah and Amirah stayed behind.
"Please be careful, guys," Isaiah shouted from across the clearing when we had already walked past the gate and a dozen feet across the cold and damp autumn grass.
"Just over here...." Elijah guided us up a grassy stone path that led to the dilapidated black house.
When he finally reached the house, we realized that the windows were all barred so we couldn't even peek inside.
"Maybe the door first?" I suggested, pointing at the ancient door handle. The door was a very dark colour, and the wood looked like it was nearly falling apart.
Wyatt's hand reached the handle. He looked disgusted by the touch of the metal but still tried it open. Elijah and I looked at him with anticipation.
Nothing happened.
The door did not open even after Wyatt tried the handle several times.
"It's just locked," he shrugged, pulling his hand away and grimacing at the weird dark reddish stains that the door handle left on his hand.
"We're witches, no?" I remarked with a hint of petulance as I pulled out my wand from my robes.
"Not sure that's going to work," Elijah narrowed his eyes dubiously at me.
"Alohomora."
Click.
"Well, it looks like it did work," I huffed with satisfaction. James raised an eyebrow at the door that creaked open on its own.
"That was suspiciously easy..." Elijah said lowly to himself, gazing past my figure and into the creaking house.
"Are we sure we want to go in?" James asked, lingering by the door as Wyatt, Elijah and I began to move forward.
"Oh, so now you're scared?" I jeered, crossing my arms at him with slight annoyance. James stared at me, seemingly contemplating.
"I'm not scared as much as I am wary," he shook his head at me. "Those rumours about werewolves and those screams and howls heared at night are not just rumours."
"And how do you know that for sure?"
"Holy fuck!" Wyatt shouted from inside the house. He and Elijah had already strolled into The Shrieking Shack while James and I had stood by the door, squabbling.
James and I's heads immediately spun to face Wyatt, who was laughing uncomfortably at something.
"Those are definitely marks," he said with morbid fascination, yet a tinge of unease in his voice.
"Where?" I questioned, suddenly finding myself marching into the house.
"Everywhere, really," Elijah said from further beyond.
The floorboards creaked under our feet with every movement we made. There were typical household items you'd expect to find in any sane person's home, such as a piano, a table, dressers, and a long carpet by the entrance. Except that any sane person's furniture would not be completely and utterly ruined by myriads of aggressive scratches and marks of obvious struggle and violence. Everything was dark. The only light flooding inside was the one provided by the front door, where James stood by, apparently warily.
"We should get out of here," James said, still holding the door with trepidation.
"Just a moment ago, you were taunting me about how I was too scared to go in here," I said, rolling my eyes at him.
"Well, I'm sorry, okay?" James' face looked paler than usual. "I didn't think we would actually come in here."
"I've seen enough," Elijah said, giving one last glance around the place before marching towards James and me.
"Hang on," Wyatt halted Elijah in his tracks. "There's an upper floor."
"No, are you mad?" James questioned with bewilderment. "Wyatt, we're leaving."
"I just need a moment—"
"Guys!" a voice echoed from outside. We all peered out the front door that James was holding.
Isaiah stood there with Amirah behind him. He looked terrified.
"Are you all mad?" he said, exasperated. "Please get out of there!"
"Wyatt, let's go," James called out. "Blackwood, you too."
I had been standing there immobile for a while, staring around at everybody. Elijah hopped out of the creaking house, while James extended a hand out at me. I grabbed it, and he pulled me out as well, safely next to him by the door.
"Wyatt!" James called his friend again.
Wyatt was nowhere to be seen, but we could hear the creaking of floorboards from the floor above. It was clear that Wyatt had decided to explore the area, despite the obvious red flags for danger.
James mumbled a curse to himself, as if having an internal debate about something.
He glanced behind us at Elijah, Isaiah, and Amirah before landing his gaze back at me.
"Hold the door, please, will you?" he asked almost too kindly. I acquiesced without a word of complaint or question.
I held the heavy and rotten door open, and James plodded through the door frame and into The Shrieking House.
"Lumos."
He lit his wand as he wandered apprehensively into the darkness of the destroyed house. I held my breath as I last saw his figure disappearing up into an old and squeaky set of stairs.
Nothing could be heard except for the eerie hammering of the wind again the barred windows and the incessant creaking of the floorboards above.
We could only hear James and Wyatt's discussion in mumbles before they finally emerged from the set of stairs. The light of their wands prevented me from seeing them properly, but I could still make out their figures approaching us.
"Nox."
When their wants extinguished their light, we could now see Wyatt's amazed and satisfied face juxtaposing James' uneasy and terrified one.
The moment that the two Slytherin boys exited The Shrieking Shack, I let the door slam shut behind us all.
"That was stupid," I commented dryly.
"No, that was bloody awesome," Wyatt beamed, looking behind him at the dark haunted house, creaking eerily despite our imminent absence.
"Let's never do this again. Okay, everyone?" Isaiah suggested airily as he pursed his lips with displeasure.
We traipsed away from the clearing and back into the path in the forest that we had originally come from. A few students who were merely watching The Shrieking Shack from afar were staring at us wide-eyed and in shock, but we paid them no mind as we ambled back inside Hogsmeade Village.