Note:

Snakes in the corridor: 1, Phil's peace of mind: 0. Turns out the only thing scarier than a cornered Mulciber is... well, you'll see. Meanwhile, Phil's reflection seems ready to apply for the role of Hogwarts' newest Defense Against Phil instructor.

...

Phil's POV:

Slowly, one foot in front of the other, I moved through the empty corridors. Dinner time had arrived, but hunger was the last thing on my mind. My evening had been spent with Professor Heffordson, the young, well-meaning but ineffective Professor of Magic who tutored me every Wednesday evening. Despite his efforts, my wand and I remained at odds. It often crossed my mind that my wand was broken, as each attempt at wielding magic seemed more disastrous than the last.
True, I had managed to levitate a book or two, but I had also managed to strike the professor on the head with them on two separate occasions. I simply struggled, and it frustrated me. If it were up to me, I could do without magic. But I was at Hogwarts, attending a school for magic.

Magic is stupid, I thought bitterly.

At a fork in the corridor, I paused. The labyrinthine passages of the castle were still a mystery to me, and getting lost had become a familiar routine. I veered left, wandering aimlessly. A few paintings hung along the stone walls, their occupants - witches and wizards in various states of undress - preparing for the night. Candleholders lined the walls, glowing with soft light. Perhaps these were enchanted too, but the thought of more magic repelled me. I wanted nothing to do with it today.
The corridor I entered was lined with tall windows on the right, each one a mirror against the darkness of the outside. Beyond the glass, the sky stretched out in a starless expanse, the windows reflecting the illuminated interior of the castle. My own reflection loomed back at me, but I looked away, unwilling to confront what I might see. Instead, I kept my gaze straight ahead, only to realise that this corridor was unfamiliar. I had taken a wrong turn. Again...
A sigh escaped my lips. The empty hallway, bathed in warm light, stretched out before me. I chewed my lower lip, trying to piece together a mental map of the castle, but the image eluded me. My time here had been too brief to learn the pathways.
Anger simmered beneath the surface. Why did it have to be so hard? Why could I not just make a book float or find my way back to my dormitory? The answer was obvious: I was useless, a failure at everything I attempted. The castle felt like a cage, and the more I thought about it, the more I resented my surroundings.
Turning towards the windows, my eyes met those of a girl's reflection. She stood there, staring back at me, clutching a shoulder bag with one hand while the other hung limply at her side. Her school uniform clung to her thin, unhealthy frame. Red hair fell past her navel, brittle and in desperate need of a cut. But it was not just the hair - everything about her seemed broken. Even in this place, she did not belong. The girl in the window was looking out at the grounds of Hogwarts, her gaze fixed on the distant Forbidden Forest.

»You can still live the way you always have,« whispered a voice, soft but unmistakably my own. My reflection's lips moved as it continued, »Catch some fresh air, Phil. This castle is no good for you. You're just an animal in a cage here. Outside, there's freedom.«

But out there, I'm alone, came my silent reply.

»And what's different now, Phil? Who's here with you? You left the forest without a word, only to run to these humans. Have you become one of them? Forgotten what we did, what I did for you? Now you're trapped here, but you belong outside! Do I need to call you a monster to make you understand, Phil? Then fine, you're a monster. So what? Embrace it! Be yourself!«

»No!« The word tore from my throat, and I clapped my hands over my ears, sinking to my knees. My head shook violently from side to side. Nonsense, all of it. The voice was wrong, was it not?

»Yes!«

»No, no, no...« I whimpered, tears stinging my eyes. The voice, so often right, was wrong now. It contradicted itself, first saying I could achieve anything, now demanding I return to the forest. It made no sense. None of it made any sense.
»Stop, just stop...«
»Stop?« A different voice cut through the turmoil, cold and mocking. My blood ran cold. »We haven't even started, have we?« Laughter, sharp and cruel, echoed down the corridor. I buried my face in my hands, tears streaming freely. The last person I wanted to see me like this was here. I scrubbed my cheeks dry, or at least tried to, and slowly forced myself to stand.
Turning around, I came face-to-face with Mulciber Junior. Still in his Slytherin uniform, a smug smile spread across his lips. Only one companion flanked him tonight, but one was enough. My lower lip quivered, a quiet sniffle escaping. This day was already a disaster; Mulciber's presence only confirmed it could worsen.
»Had a rough day?« he taunted, moving closer. I studied him - tall, thin, his short, dark brown hair framing blue-grey eyes brimming with malice. His grin was slick, every step closer pinning me in place. There was nowhere to run. Only the windows offered an escape, and they led to a dark, unknown expanse.
A tear slipped down my cheek, and Mulciber seized the moment. His finger, long and cold, traced the path of the tear. He stopped in front of me, his finger running along the scar on my cheek, pressing down just enough to hurt. I held my breath, staring past his shoulder, willing myself to be anywhere but here. My tears flowed thicker.

»Fight, Phil! Show him his place as an unworthy human!«
I can't...

»I repeat myself with pleasure: dirty blood shouldn't attend this school.« His finger pressed harder into my cheek, the pressure building to a sharp pain. I stood still, heart hammering in my chest, threatening to leap into my throat.
»Has anyone told you that it's rude not to look someone in the eyes?« His hand clamped around my chin, forcing my head upwards. I met his pale gaze, tears suspended in my eyes, but refusing to fall. There was a sick feeling twisting in my stomach, a desire to flee, yet a stronger belief that Mulciber Jr. would grow bored and leave if I stayed silent.
»Oh, I forgot, your father's a savage, so I can't expect better from his daughter!« he sneered. »Is that why you're only now at Hogwarts, living in the dirt with him? Did he breed his werewolves, and did those beasts want to mount his daughter? Is that why you're here? Are you a monster too?« His eyes flicked to the place where his finger pressed into my skin. I said nothing.
»It's no fun when she's quiet!« The other Slytherin, leaning against the wall, broke his silence. Mulciber's grip on my chin tightened, sending a sharp sting through my jaw. I inhaled sharply, and he smirked. »Yeah, why don't you speak up, Aquila?« His face loomed close to mine, his breath warm on my skin. »Scared? Or are you just a bitch?«
»She doesn't owe you an answer,« a new voice interrupted, slicing through the tension of the corridor. »You should rather ask yourselves what this display of power says about your masculinity. Nothing good, if I may reveal the secret.«
Mulciber's head snapped towards the speaker, and my eyes followed his. A figure stepped forward from the shadows, green tie swaying against her robes, the Slytherin emblem on proud display.
»Lestrange!« Mulciber spat.
»Yes, congratulations, you remember my name, Mulciber Jr.,« Lestrange said, her voice cool and mocking. »Not that your lineage is anything to remember. After all, if your father had made any effort, you wouldn't need to carry his name with that 'Junior' tag, would you?« Lestrange laughed, a rich sound that seemed to echo in the narrow space.
I stared at the black-haired girl, confusion prickling my mind. Was she here to help, or to torment me in her own way? The world felt off-kilter when snakes turned on each other.

The world never turns right, at least for me.

»Lestrange, as charming as ever,« Mulciber growled, releasing my face and turning to the girl. He crossed his arms over his chest, a picture of anger barely contained.
»Charm has never been the source of power,« Lestrange replied smoothly. »You talk so much about family and pure blood, yet you don't grasp the simplest truths.«
»Enlighten me, then,« Mulciber taunted, his eyes narrowing.
»Gladly,« Lestrange shot back. »I was just passing through the castle when I saw you playing your petty games. Maybe you think this is how power is exercised, but you're wrong. Why torment a girl who's done nothing to you? Yes, she may not have a heritage worth mentioning, but is your ego that fragile? Did your parents teach you that great Dark Wizards spend their time picking on the weak? Is this how you compensate for your lack of... balls?«
»And what is power, then, oh all-knowing Lestrange?« Mulciber's voice was a low growl now.
»Power is this.« She gestured at the scene, her movements slow and deliberate. »I'm a year younger than you, and you're two against one, yet I'm the one leading this conversation. You're listening to me, and it's not because I'm pressing your friend Terry against the wall and scaring him, no, it's because of the way I carry myself. My parents taught me the real game of power.«
Mulciber's eyes narrowed further, his jaw clenched. For a moment, silence stretched between them like a drawn bowstring. Then, in a voice colder than the castle walls, he said, »And what if your words don't stop us? We're still two against one, and older.«
»Ah, the classic fallback to threats,« Lestrange said, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. »You're welcome to try, but know this: I am a Lestrange, and my name carries weight. If that's not enough to dissuade you, then after a possible confrontation, you'll become intimately acquainted with the Lestrange family. My brother Rodolphus would be delighted to meet you by the next holiday. But rest assured, what I'd have to tell him about dear Junior here would hardly please him. That's my threat. Now, you have a choice: leave or face the consequences.«
The silence was heavy. I watched Mulciber Jr., waiting for him to react. His face was a mask of fury, muscles twitching under his skin. For a moment, I thought he would lash out, but then a guttural growl escaped his throat. He turned sharply, marching past Lestrange with his sidekick Terry trailing behind. They shot dark looks over their shoulders, but they had been defeated.
Lestrange's grin widened as she watched them leave, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. The corridor fell quiet, just the two of us remaining. I was not sure who was worse: Mulciber Jr., or the girl who had driven him away with nothing but words.

»You're the worst here, Phil!« The voice came again, sharp and intrusive, not from Lestrange but from the window pane's reflection.
»You could rule over all!«

I shook my head, refusing to acknowledge the voice. Lestrange's green eyes were on me, curiosity written across her features. Of course, she could not hear it. For her, there was nothing but silence. But for me, it was relentless, deafening. I covered my ears, trying to shut it out, the words hammering against my skull.
»Be quiet, be quiet...« My own voice was a whisper, trembling with the strain of holding back the panic.
»I haven't said anything yet,« Lestrange said defensively, but I barely registered her words.

»Why be quiet when speaking the truth!« The voice shouted in my ear, and in the window's reflection, I saw my other self, the one hidden behind glass, beginning to move, lips curling into a sinister smile. It wanted out, clawing to catch up to me.

»No, no...« My voice broke. It was too much. Turning on my heel, I fled, my feet pounding against the stone floor, echoing through the corridors. A shout of my name from Lestrange followed, but I ignored it, running blindly.
Across a bridge, the wind whipping against my face, icy and unforgiving. Only then did I realise I was crying again, but I did not stop. The truth was behind me, clawing at my heels. Lies, all lies - I had been a lie.
The world, it had twisted into something unrecognisable.
Down the stairs, stumbling into the open, the grounds of Hogwarts stretching out before me, a blanket of snow under a black sky. My lungs burned, breath forming clouds in the freezing air, but I could not stop. Not yet. The forest loomed ahead, dark and foreboding, a maw of shadows. My steps quickened, and I plunged into the embrace of the Forbidden Forest.