xlv. in search of answers

                                    

                                          
On a Sunday midway through February, the majority of the school's student body tromped out of the castle into the brisk weather and headed for the Quidditch Pitch.
                          
Hermione and Elara didn't want to go. Neither did several of the older Slytherins for whom the glamour of Quidditch had worn off, at least when their own team wasn't playing. Harriet knew her friends didn't much enjoy the game, not as she did, and so she didn't needle them relentlessly about attending. "Just promise you'll be careful and won't leave the dorms," she said. Hermione rolled her eyes and Elara gave a distracted nod.
                          
"We'll be fine, Harriet. We promise."
                          
And so the younger witch left her friends to follow the crowd into the castle's corridors. Malfoy made a passing comment on Harriet being a loner, and Nott pointed out that Crabbe and Goyle had gone on ahead without him, and he yelped, running to catch up with the other two. Harriet shared a laugh with Nott and Zabini, though she couldn't shake the feeling of being the odd one out, drifting toward the edges of the group. They were almost out of the entrance hall when she glimpsed a flash of crimson and paused, spotting Ginny Weasley standing in the middle of the passage, staring at the wall.
                          
Frowning, Harriet broke off from the group and went to Ginny's side. "Weasley?" she said. The girl's eyes remained faceted on the blank stretch of stone in front of her—until Harriet gave her shoulder a light tap. Ginny blinked and looked around.
                          
"...Potter?"
                          
"All right, Weasley?"
                          
"I...yeah, I'm fine." She shook her head, then glanced past Harriet toward the entrance hall, then behind her. In the sunlight coming through the window, Harriet could see that Ginny's face was paler than usual, her freckles stark, her blue eyes dark and distant. "Where did Luna go?"
                          
"Luna? She's probably headed to the pitch, Ginny. We can go check, if you want. It's not a good idea to stand around alone these days, yeah?"
                          
Weasley narrowed her eyes as if trying to figure whether or not Harriet was threatening her, and then the redhead shook herself again. "You're right. I thought she was right here—but Luna's a bit, erm, flighty?"
                          
Harriet got the impression Ginny wanted to say "empty-headed," and she forced herself to not point out that it hadn't been Lovegood she found aimlessly standing in an empty corridor. They hurried to catch up with the rest of the school, jumping down the steps and cutting through the courtyard, meeting the tail end of the leaving students and falling into place. As they slowed to a walk, Harriet had to admit that while she didn't know Ginny well, they'd become more friendly over the past few months, exchanging smiles or nods in the halls, sitting at the same table in the library when Hermione didn't crowd the space with extra books. Weasley seemed...off, somehow, and Harriet couldn't decide what was wrong.
                          
It had been quiet at Hogwarts, for the most part. Many students had begun the inevitable shift toward normalcy, thinking the danger of "the Heir" had passed since no one had turned up Petrified since Justin and Nearly Headless Nick. Even Professor Slytherin had been marginally less acerbic, though he and the other teachers remained on edge, just like Harriet and her friends. Great big ruddy snakes didn't just up and disappear, and Hermione asserted that whoever stole the Basilisk must have done so for a purpose and their purpose hadn't been fulfilled. "There will be more attacks," she had said just last week. "I imagine the Headmaster is determined to purge the school during the summer, so they have to complete whatever their plan is before the end of the school year. Anyone who thinks otherwise is—well, they're an idiot."
                          
Oddly enough, the Slytherins remained the most vigilant despite how some of the older, nastier upper-years sneered about the Heir doing "good work," and Neville Longbottom still hadn't stopped bloody following Harriet around. Harriet had confronted him several times and Elara told the git off more than once, but he persisted and seemed to be there whenever she turned around, his eyes all scrunched and squinted, looking at Harriet like she'd killed a bloke. She didn't have a clue what she'd done to earn his suspicions.