Ghost or demon, she didn't have time to think. It was kill or be killed. On instinct, Sariah launched the immense cauldron at her approaching foe. It collided solidly with her would-be assailant. Its bone white face was thrown  backwards, and she felt the floor reverberate as something hit the floor, followed by the thunderous clanging, as the cauldron followed suit.

Silence fell as the massive cauldron rolled to a halt. Sariah fumbled for her wand. "Lumos," she uttered, and a weak stream of light flickered from it. She pointed it around the room, the illumination equal to a torch with flat batteries. A few feet from her, a large black-robed body was sprawled out on the scuffed floorboards. She nudged it with her boot, not entirely unconvinced that it was human. 

It twitched, causing her to flinch.

"You throw like a girl," a snarky voice moaned, gasping for breath. His pale face -- less ghostly now it had a body attached to it -- rose, as the boy propped himself up on one elbow. Even in the dim light, she recognized the unmistakably unruly black hair that fell past his ears. "What did you do that for, anyway?" he asked, his green eyes flashing.

She clapped her hands to her mouth, stunned at her stupidity. James Potter. She had just assaulted James Potter with a cauldron. James Potter. Whose father had saved the wizarding world too many times to count... She'd be doing detention for the next fifty years for this.

Her wordless shock was slowly replaced with anger. "What do you mean, what was that for? That's what you get for sneaking around empty classrooms, where you aren't meant to be! You nearly scared me to death!"

"I'm not Peeves. I've got better things to do than skulk around Hogwarts scaring fifth years," he grumbled. "There's an eighty Galleon prize pool for whoever locates Professor Binns. I had him tracked down this very spot..." He paused to slip a folded piece of parchment into his robe and grimaced as he attempted- and subsequently abandoned- standing up. "Arghh," he winced. "I think you broke my ribs."

She winced at the accusation. "I'm sorry! Really, I thought you were a ghost."

"First-hand experience here: if ghosts were corporeal, cauldrons would make- excellent weapons against them."

"Do you want a hand down to the hospital wing?" she offered hastily. "It's the least I could do."

"No thanks," he wheezed. He propped himself up against a sturdy table leg, an action that left him gasping. "I think I'll just- sit here for a bit."

Sariah couldn't place the look on his face, but it seemed to be an amalgamation of embarrassment and pain. The school's duelling champion: defeated by a wandless Hufflepuff and a cauldron. It was easy to see why. He leant backwards, cradling his ribcage, and seemed surprised that she still hadn't moved.

"Seriously, I'll survive. Why don't we pretend this never happened?" He cracked a pained smile.

"Are you sure you don't need any help?" Sariah asked. "What if you're bleeding internally? Your lungs might be punctured. If I leave you alone, you could drown in your own blood. And then I'd be a murderer. Or-"

"Russell's keeping watch by the bottom of the tower," James cut in, interrupting her increasingly morbid babbling. "If you really want to help, tell him where I am. Don't worry," he reassured her. "We won't have to involve any teachers if we keep this between ourselves. It's a win-win situation."

Sariah agreed readily to his offer. She retrieved the cauldron sheepishly from where it had rolled and hurried down the stairs. There was a hulking seventh year pacing across the landing. Upon seeing her, he pretended to gaze soulfully into the nearest painting (which was empty) and scratched at his chin. He looked familiar. She realised he played as a beater for Gryffindor, that would explain his off-center nose.

"Russell?" she queried.

He nodded.

"It's James, uh, he wants to tell you something. It's important. No, I'm mean, he wants you to go to him-" she sighed at Russell's awkward, questioning expression and agreed with it. She sounded like a badly scripted Rom-Com. "He's three floors up, okay? In the classroom with the open door. Just go."

As she lugged the thirteenth cauldron down the stairs of the Grand Staircase, a muffled bang sounded from the divination tower, followed by what sounded like the tinkling of broken glass. 

Professor Zamboni was waiting outside the classroom for her to return. "What- What on earth did you do to that cauldron? I said transport them, not fling them from the stairwells."

She glanced down. The cauldron had not done well in its short career as a projectile. One of its sides was almost completely flattened out, and a series of smaller dents battered its surface. 

"Sorry," she said quietly. "It was an accident."  

Zamboni arched an eyebrow in disbelief and told her to clean them before she left. By the time she got back to the common room, the fire had died down to red embers. Ridges of blisters revealed themselves as she eased off her gloves, the skin torn and flapping. She couldn't bear the idea of starting her homework at such a late hour, and a quill would only exacerbate the condition of her left hand. Lugging cauldrons around the castle was like crossfit on steroids. She slumped into bed, feeling her entire body complaining about the day's treatment.

At breakfast the next morning, the Great Hall was abuzz with activity. It seemed to be centralized at the Gryffindor table. Sariah wondered if the circumstances about James' injury had somehow gotten out. However, as no one approached her for her version of the tale, she assumed it was something else. She spooned another spoonful of honey porridge into her mouth, looking about for Britta, but owls and ghosts flooded into the hall, as if on cue, obscuring her sights. Then she remembered it was a Friday morning, which meant several things. Firstly, Britta would be down at the quidditch pitch, swooning over Ethan Sprightly, Hufflepuff's keeper, and secondly, she had muggle studies straight after breakfast. Sariah smiled.

Muggle studies on a Friday morning was the thing that got her through the week. The first half of the lesson was dedicated to dissecting the Muggle fiction novel they'd been assigned for the week, with occasional discussions when the books did feature inaccurate magical information. Today the class was marred by Professor Weatherby's exorbitant praise of Scorpius, for his "thoughtful and insightful" answers of the holiday assignment. He awarded the rotten cheater 5 points to Slytherin. Weatherby asked Scorpius to recite his answers to the class. Sariah scowled and stared out the window. She always sat next to this window, as it was one of the scant few in the classroom that wasn't full of enchanted stained glass. The classroom had a beautiful view of the lake and the surrounding forest, it seemed a shame to miss out. A dusting of snow brushed the trees and the sprawling lawns below. It would crunch fantastically underfoot this early in the morning... No matter how closely she looked, she could never locate the massive white oak or the Clearing. She assumed it was another clever part of the Clearing's magic. She traced a set of Wi-Fi signal bars onto the window's condensation and raced the water droplets down to the window sill.

"-Sariah?" Weatherby asked. The class turned to look at her. Sariah frowned and chewed the inside of her lip. She knew she was on the receiving end of a question, and cursed Scorpius Malfoy again for distracting her with his recitation.

"I'm sorry, what?" she asked.

Professor Weatherby tutted. She hated to disappoint him. He looked like an morose bumblebee when he was unhappy. This was mainly due to his shockingly yellow robes, but his wide, fatty jowls, thick grey eyebrows, and generally round body all contributed to the comical image. He moved onto someone else, who received a bar of Cadbury's Rocky Mallow Road for the correct answer. 

After enduring another stoic potions lesson, in which Sariah managed to spill diluted Chimera-tail venom on her healing blisters, she set off to lunch, her right hand securely bandaged and burning faintly. She spotted Britta at the lunch table, and curiosity overcame her. She had to know what the morning's commotion had been about. 

Britta blinked. "You mean, you haven't heard yet? You must be the last person in the entire school to know."

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me," Sariah said, growing increasingly frustrated at her inability to hold a knife in her bandaged hand. 

"It's not good news: last night a Thestral broke into the castle. Apparently, it had eaten something hallucinogenic, so it flew into a window got stuck in an old classroom. And worst of all: it trampled James Potter when he tried to help it outside again! He's still in the hospital wing." 

Britta said it all with a solemn face, but Sariah couldn't resist snorting. It was just so absurd. She wondered what a Thestral looked like, and doubted its resemblance to the cauldron she'd actually thrown at him. Britta looked scandalized by her reaction. "It could have eaten him while he was unconscious, Sariah. This isn't a laughing matter."

She tried to tug her grin downwards- into a more respectable expression- and failed. 

Hello readers, we've reached eleven chapters together; a number I find very meaningful since it was the age I turned that Hogwarts forgot to send me an owl, and subsequently have forgotten to send every year since. If you've managing to read this, I can only assume you're enjoying the story so far -- thank you so much for reading!! I love reading your comments before I head off to work in the morning. My challenge to you, should you accept it, is to find someone (on Wattpad, or in real life if you're feeling brave) who loves Harry Potter just as much as you, and convince them to give this book a shot. The more the merrier! Until tomorrow, mischief managed.

-Wolf