Earlier that Halloween night...
Hermione was crying inside the bathroom stall, while Violet stood outside, trying to comfort her friend.
"They're complete idiots. We should tell the professor," Violet said, her expression deadly serious.
"No, it's fine." Hermione stepped out of the stall, her eyes red and her face streaked with tears.
"It's not fine at all. We need to tell McGonagall." Violet insisted, determined to report the students who had harassed them. "They can't call you that, Hermione. And they can't just push us around in the corridors."
Violet was referring to what had happened about an hour earlier. She and Hermione had been walking down the hallway near the bathrooms when they fell victim to something common that night at the castle: a Halloween scare.
The second that night.
The problem was, it didn't end as a harmless prank. The students who had set it up were Slytherins—sixth years, and a familiar face. And when they realized who they had cornered, they took it much further.
How did they recognize them? They were just first-years, right?
Wrong. Violet was Harry's sister, and she was still a subject of gossip. Since the start of the year, things had been going great for Gryffindor and for Harry Potter.
He'd joined the Quidditch team, and Gryffindor was earning more points than anyone else. They were at the top of the standings, and if the rumors about their intense training were true, stopping them this year would be nearly impossible.
The other houses couldn't help feeling bitter. Wasn't that the whole point of the competition—to keep things balanced and competitive?
But when it came to Slytherin versus Gryffindor, it was always more than that. Draco, the so-called prince of Slytherin, had already made a promise: anyone who could cause trouble for Potter and his friends—whether getting them expelled or just humiliating them—would earn a personal favor from the Malfoy family.
The Malfoys were powerful in the wizarding world. If someone left Hogwarts with ties to that family, a future job in the Ministry wouldn't be out of reach.
It was human nature—selfish desires for power, influence, respect. They wanted all of it, even if they had to cross a line to get there.
"What price are you willing to pay to get what you want?" That question always lingered in people's minds when opportunity appeared.
"Whatever it takes." That might be the answer sometimes. But that was exactly the problem. Sooner or later, the Slytherins who had done this would learn that actions carried consequences—consequences far heavier than they could afford.
"Look at that, Helen—little Gryffindors." One of the Slytherins sneered as he revealed himself after casting a pumpkin-jinx scare at Hermione and Violet.
There were three of them: a girl named Helen, another called Victoria, and the boy who had spoken—Grag.
Helen narrowed her eyes the moment she saw Violet and Hermione. Recognition flashed in her gaze, and seconds later her expression twisted into disgust.
"They're not just filthy Gryffindors. That's the female Potter—and her filthy little Mudblood pet."
"How dare you—!" Violet snapped, her indignation boiling over. She couldn't bear to hear them call Hermione that to her face. Violet's hand trembled toward her wand, even though she stood no chance against three older students.
"Let's just go, Violet." Hermione grabbed her friend's hand and tried to pull her away, wanting to avoid more trouble.
Slap.
Hermione froze in shock. She staggered back, staring at Victoria, who had just struck her across the face.
"We didn't give you permission to leave, you filthy Mudblood."
"What the hell are you doing?!" Violet yanked Hermione back and drew her wand. Why were they doing this? She knew their houses were rivals, but this was still school grounds. Bullying with violence? Didn't they fear being punished? Expelled?
Her thoughts were reasonable—but wrong. When it came to Slytherin, they were practically untouchable. Snape shielded them above all else, and unless they were caught red-handed by Dumbledore or another professor, punishment was rare.
"You want a beating too?" Victoria laughed, watching Violet's shaky wand.
"Hold her, Grag."
...
"Why? Why would they do this?!" Hermione sobbed, gathering the torn pages of her books. Her face was red and streaked with finger-shaped marks on both cheeks.
Violet sat on the floor beside her, her fiery hair disheveled, her own face bruised. She bit her lip so hard it almost bled, fighting the urge to cry.
Hermione dropped the scraps of her books and ran, tears blinding her, rushing into the bathroom.
Violet clenched her fists in fury and chased after her.
There would be no peace for them tonight. This Halloween seemed cursed.
They hadn't even had time to cry properly when something terrifying forced its way through the bathroom door.
Screams.
Their screams.
The troll swung its massive club, missing them by inches as they dove to the floor—
—but they didn't escape unharmed.
The door shattered, and a splintered chunk struck Violet violently, knocking her down.
"Violet!" Hermione screamed, rushing to her side. Blood began to spill, warm and metallic, staining her trembling hands.
She didn't know what to do.
She wanted to help her friend, but the troll loomed over them, their executioner for the night.