The whole school seemed to have frozen in time. Evening had arrived like any other: quiet, calm, with only the faint rustle of pages and distant footsteps echoing through the corridors. Edmund had claimed his favourite spot in the library, a secluded corner table bathed in the soft glow of a lamp, where he could finally finish some inconsequential homework due next week. He preferred to complete things well in advance, the less stress, the better. Thankfully, he was rather clever, and at eighteen, his future was practically mapped out. That didn’t mean, however, that he could slack off; excellence followed his family name like a shadow. One misstep, one poor grade, and his mother would be livid. He had no intention of failing any subject. Leaning over his parchment, quill in hand, he felt the faintest stirring in the otherwise still library. At first, he ignored it — a whispering breeze, perhaps, or someone shifting in the far corner. But the sound grew, insistent and low, until it became unmistakable: voices. The library, so serene a moment ago, now felt crowded, charged, tense. Something had happened. A terrible something. Edmund lifted his gaze and scanned the room, alert. His eyes settled on a younger boy, Jason Monroe, fourth year, a Ravenclaw, half-blood. “Oi, Jason. What’s going on?” he whispered, keeping his voice low despite the chaos around them. Jason glanced around, trembling. “Oh… you haven’t heard?” he whispered back, voice quivering. “A second-year… they’ve been found petrified. Just outside Professor Dumbledore’s office.” Edmund’s stomach dropped. His quill slipped from his fingers, scratching a jagged line across the parchment. “Petrified? As in… like… turned to stone?” Jason nodded, shivering. “Yeah… someone found him like that. Everyone’s talking about it…" Edmund ran a hand through his dark hair, feeling the familiar tension coil in his chest. The library, normally a haven, felt suffocating now, crowded with whispers, anxious glances, and the unmistakable buzz of fear. “Right,” he muttered, voice low and controlled. "Don’t let anyone see you getting too… worked up. You understand?” As they sat together in tense silence, Edmund’s mind raced. This wasn’t just another school night. Something dangerous had crept into Hogwarts, and the calm, orderly world he had always known was starting to crumble around him.
He isn’t dead… is he? Oh God. His eyes… they looked so empty, as if his soul had simply… left. Nesta had been on her way back to Gryffindor Tower when she first noticed the water on the floor. Small pools, glistening faintly in the torchlight, stretching along the corridor in uneven streaks. Her first thought had been that it was yet another ridiculous prank — something the boys had orchestrated for their own amusement. It would hardly have been the first time. But that thought vanished the moment she turned the corner. The boy lay on the stone floor. His skin was pale — unnaturally so — almost wax-like, and his brown hair, neatly pressed down with far too much gel, remained untouched, as though nothing had disturbed him. His eyes were open, fixed on nothing, staring straight ahead… but there was no life in them. Nesta stopped abruptly. Her heart began to pound violently against her ribs, so hard it almost hurt. For a moment, she couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. She simply stared. Ravenclaw, she noted distantly, her mind clinging to something logical. His uniform was immaculate. She didn’t recognise him — not surprising. He was younger. Third year, perhaps. Fourth at most. Behind her, footsteps began to gather. Voices followed. Low at first, then growing: students. They crowded forward, only to halt the moment they saw him. A heavy silence fell over the corridor — thick, suffocating, until it shattered. A small girl — first year, Hufflepuff — let out a piercing scream, and suddenly, everything moved at once. Voices rose in panic. Students pushed and stumbled over one another, trying to see, trying not to see. Professors came rushing from both ends of the corridor, robes sweeping behind them as they attempted to regain control. Younger students were hurried away, shielded from the sight, though not quickly enough to erase what they had already seen. Nesta remained where she was, frozen, as though rooted to the very stone beneath her feet. Suddenly, a hand closed around her arm. She was pulled away from the crowd before she could protest, when she turned, she found herself looking into calm, piercing blue eyes: Professor Dumbledore. He guided her a few steps aside, away from the chaos, placing himself subtly between her and the scene behind them. Only then did he release her. “What did you see, Miss Acheron?” he asked quietly.
Somehow the school seemed different, like something was off and everything seemed to feel more cold and chilly. The safe haven she used to have in the library where she spent most of her time, when she wasn’t out doing god knows what trouble out in the corridors. But even she knew she needed a safe place, somewhere where she could study in peace and quiet without being disturbed, which she often felt like happened in the slytherin common room with all the whispers going on. Sadly those whispers had hit the library and her normal safe spot seemed to roam with an eerie feeling, the fear was on a whole other level and somehow, she couldn’t help but hear the talk going on between the young fourth year from Ravenclaw and Edmund Laurent that was at the same year as her. She heard everything, heard that a second year had been found petrified, and turned to stone right at Dumbledore's office. Her eyes turned into a surprise as she put down the quill she had in her hand from the notes she was writing as her eyebrows furrowed. Somehow she felt the suffocating feeling and the temperature change in the library. As she heard Edmunds advice to the other student. She looked at her parchment and shook her head at the racing thoughts through her mind, as she moved over to Edmund and Jason, with a look in her eyes focused at Jason and after at Edmund “Was there anything else noted near the petrified body? like any hints of what is going on? I know we shouldn’t be terrified but nothing like this has ever happened before”. Her curiosity was clear as day, but also a tad bit of concern of what actually happened that made the student turn into stone. Nothing like that had ever happened at Hogwarts before, and it was a mystery she knew she wanted to solve, as she looked towards Edmund.
The rumors had travelled the castle walls faster than he even had a chance to react. Screams filled the corridors with a reak of torture and fear, with the pools of water on the floor leading towards Dumbledores office. He knew what was going on, who the victim was before the news had gotten to him from other prefects heading the way towards the corridor to lead students back towards their common rooms and clear the way for staff to get the student safe to the hospital wing. Even if the school seemed to be filled with whispers, curiosity, fear and rumors already starting, he kept his mind clear. Kept on the charming yet brave face he was known for around his peers. The popular slytherin boy that everyone admired and he knew Hogwarts was more of a place where he belonged compared to the orphanage he was at before. He was more known to be the weird kid, a person people disliked and stayed away from, feared in a different way, until he found out he was actually a wizard. A Wizard with a family line that could be tracked back for generations at Hogwarts. As he got to the corridor, he helped the other head boys and girls clear the way, but as he could see the eyes of Nesta Acheron, someone he had heard a great deal about, a person he knew only because of her sister that he used to talk with quite more than he had done the past few months. He stood there swifting people away from the scene waiting for the right moment to approach her and Professor Dumbledore.
Something in the back of his mind scratched, persistent and unsettling. There was something wrong here, undeniably so. It wasn’t as though accidents didn’t happen at the school. They did, often enough. Some poor unfortunate soul injured during a Quidditch match, or a charm gone horribly wrong, he had heard it all by now. Mishaps were part of the rhythm of Hogwarts life. But this… this was different. He could not recall ever hearing of someone being petrified. The word itself sat heavily in his thoughts, unnatural and out of place. No, something was entirely, disturbingly wrong, and worse still, he doubted this would be the end of it. His mind raced, thoughts colliding faster than he could properly sort through them, each possibility darker than the last. It was as if a quiet warning had settled deep within him, refusing to be ignored. A soft, bright voice suddenly broke through the noise. He blinked, his attention shifting from the small, wide-eyed boy in front of him to the girl now standing at his side. He knew her, of course he did. Same year, same classes for years now. A familiar face in corridors and classrooms, and yet… he couldn’t recall ever truly speaking to her. For a brief moment, he simply studied her, taking in the tension in her posture, the slight tightness in her expression. And then it struck him, she felt it too. That same unease. That same quiet certainty that something was terribly, irreversibly wrong. The little kid started to talk again "I heard someone mention water on the floor,” the boy continued, glancing back at her. “And the way they described him… it wasn’t just unconscious. It was as if”. Edmund gave a small, controlled shake of his head "You needn’t say another word. Off you go, catch up with your friends,” he said, giving the boy a light pat. His attention shifted, moving from the boy to the young woman beside him. “There’s definitely something wrong here,” he continued, his voice quieter now, more deliberate. “Petrified? No… I’ve heard of all manner of things happening at this school, but petrification?” He let out a faint breath, almost scoffing under it. “Never.”
She shrinks under his ice-blue gaze, as though he can peer straight through her, seeing every flaw, every secret worry. There is no reason to lie, something tells her he would see right through it anyway, and besides, why should she lie? She hasn’t done anything; she merely found him, hasn’t she? Her arm begins to itch against her other, a restless, nervous movement that mirrors the way her whole body screams discomfort. “I was on my way back to my dorm room when I saw the water on the floor,” she stammers, her voice barely steady. “I thought the boys had played a prank again, but when I turned the corner, I saw him on the floor. I… I don’t know what else to say, Professor. I’m really sorry.” She doesn’t know why she apologises, but apologising feels like the natural thing for her to do. Dumbledore regards her for a moment, then nods shortly. “Thank you. Go back to your room, Miss Acheron.” He lays a hand on her trembling shoulder. “Sleep will help. You’re alright.” With that, he walks away, leaving her to absorb the weight of the encounter. She exhales shakily once he’s gone, the tight coil in her chest slowly loosening. But the castle corridors feel unusually long and echoing, her footsteps hesitant as she moves towards her dorm. Then, near the end of the hall, she sees Draven. There is something about Draven that makes the hairs on her arms stand on end. She cannot quite explain it, something beneath the surface, something lurking just behind his eyes and curling at the edges of his smile. It unsettles her in a way she cannot name, a quiet instinct telling her to keep her distance, even as she stands rooted to the spot. She knows people like him. Or rather, she knows people like him. He is admired, followed even. There is always someone lingering at his shoulder, a small, devoted circle that seems to orbit him as though pulled in by something unseen. What does he call them again? Death Eaters… or something equally morbid. The thought sends a faint chill through her, though she cannot say why. Perhaps it is the name. Perhaps it is the way they look at him, like he is something more than just a boy. She stops short when she notices him properly, her posture stiffening almost instinctively. For a brief moment, she considers turning away, pretending she has not seen him at all. But it is too late for that. Instead, she offers him a small, awkward nod. “Draven,” she says, her voice quieter than she intends, carefully neutral, as though balance alone might keep her steady. Her fingers twitch slightly at her side, betraying the tension she is trying so hard to hide. Up close, it is worse. The feeling. The sense that he is looking through her rather than at her, weighing something she cannot see.
The library felt kind of off, it wasn’t the same quiet mood as normal. Most people were whispering about the petrified student and not about the usual gossip around the school. Like Draven Aldridge and his group of followers, or who was kissing who, everything seemed dark and gloomy, and somehow she knew something bad was bound to happen to the school. A place she found herself at home, compared to the years she had at Durmstrang, always being known as a professor's daughter and always having to make sure she was on her best behavior. But honestly she often got herself into far more trouble than good, and she was about to get expelled if her father didn’t transfer her to Hogwarts. It was different, but somehow Hogwarts felt more like home to her than Durmstrang ever did, and the friends she actually had seemed like true friends instead of fake ones. Everything seemed different, comfortable, relaxing, a constance where she didn’t have to fear that everyone would know her name. A fear that someone would tattle to her father about her actions. But somehow all those emotions were changed by the eerie tone that sat in the mood of the library. She listened to the young boy's words as she tried to recall a moment that she ever had talked to Edmund, like actually had a truthful and long lasting conversation with him. As the words the kid said really sinked into her mind, settling into her seat, turning her gaze right at Edmund as he spoke. She knew he was deliberating every word said. Her every thought trying to figure out what was going on made her eyebrows furrowed slightly. “water on the floor and it has nothing to do with either Peeves or The Ghost” she bit down lightly on her bottom lip, trying to recall anything from every book she ever read. But nothing with petrification came to mind for her. “Something different is happening, and it is a mystery and case I tend to find the answers to” she stated bluntly, not knowing if Edmund was thinking the same things as she was. That this was something that no one had ever heard about and someway or another, she was sure the answers were hidden somewhere amongst the many books and archives of the library.
He knew he had a lot of followers, or well death eaters as he would call them. People that trusted him, believed in his dark visions, but at school he kept the morbid thoughts aligned, or at least at times he did. He knew the truth about what had happened to the student, he knew how the water had ended up on the floor of the corridor, but he only trusted a few people with that truth, himself. It was a dark secret he had to keep, since no one could figure out his motives, figure out that he was the true heir of slytherin, but how he was going to point out at some point that the chambers had been opened, was a task for another day. Right now the petrified body was more than enough to scare the other students, which was in his case perfect. But now he knew he had to focus on not being spotted, not getting all the attention on him. It would end up badly in every possible matter, he could get expelled, which wasn’t a part of his plans. This was going to be one of his biggest secrets to date, and as long as no one caught him, he was safe in every possible matter. As of now, the most important act for him was to act as normal as he humanly could. He looked towards Nesta as she spoke to Professor Dumbledore, trying to keep his focus of redirecting students away from the scene, until she was right in front of him. Standing there with her long brown locs, looking almost stiffened and awkward. He gave her a gentle smile, being as carefree and kind as he could be. “Nesta, how are you feeling?” He tried to seem genuinely concerned, knowing she was the person to find the body, knowing she could have easily been the one in harm's way had she been at the scene sooner than she was. But luckily for him it was a muggleborn Ravenclaw instead, as he attended.
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