‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - ✦ - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

"MISS CAMPBELL!"

Professor Flitwick had been the first to return after the match ended, followed by Snape, who was limping from an injury. The latter took notice of the letter and carefully sealed it while Flitwick conjured a stretcher for the poor, unconscious girl to lie on.

To be frank, both professors had a lot on their plate recently: between that library incident during the Halloween feast and now the situation with one of the Potters, things seemed to go downhill as the term went on. The two staff members made a quick trip to the hospital wing, just as the rest of the students were returning from the match. They were able to go unnoticed and frantically opened the door, Madame Pomfrey abruptly shelving a few bottles of Pepperup Potion in surprise.

"Severus? Filius! I was expecting a few injured Quidditch players today, but not Miss Campbell."

"Campbell was missing from the Quidditch match this whole time and we found her already unconscious." Professor Flitwick explained.

"She was writing a letter to someone; a priest." Snape added.

Madame Pomfrey was paying attention while giving Layla first aid: "A priest you say? Whatever for?"

"It's the Serial Disappearances Case.", Snape muttered, just loud enough for his two colleagues to hear: "We have one victim this school term and there is no telling what might happen next."

"Why would it involve a priest?"

"That, I do not know about."

Someone knocked on the door and slowly opened it after a few seconds. A familiar face took a peak inside, both professors recognizing him because he was one of the other students they knew of, that wore a medallion like Campbell's.

"Mister Goldstein, good afternoon.", Flitwick greeted.

"Likewise, Professor... and what happened to Layla?"

"She had already lost consciousness when we found her." Snape explained with a blink-and-you'll-miss-it worried look on his face.

"What is strange is how I couldn't find anything medically wrong with her." Madame Pomfrey continued.

"Well, she wasn't at breakfast." Anthony speculated brushed a hand against Layla's robe - quickly pulling back, gray-faced.

He blinked and saw that thing superimposed on his friend's face. It was smiling at him with a deadly look in its intense, cerulean eyes. It whispered into his ear, as if he and Layla were cheek-to-cheek.

"S̖̜͚̽h̟̪̲̦͚̙ͮe͕̬̔͛͌ ͍̭̜͔ͯ̉w̯̥͍̦̩̱͗ͤ̑͂ͥo̘͇̩̞ͯ̋ͭ͂n͎̦̜̻͈͊͒̀'̠̜̈́ͯ̾͊ͅt͓̙͔͊ ̠͔̞̔͒̐̏́l͙̬̞̥à̜̫͍̣͖̗͓̜̥̭̑̉ͧ̿̄̈ͪͧs̲̬̝͕̠̜̍ͭ̓ͦ̈́ͯ̾͊ͅt͓̙͔͊ ̩͔̩͕̌̆ͅv͚̭̫̖̲̦͚̙ͤ̚e͕̬͕̰̔͛͌̒ͨ̈́r̯̠̦̩͇͉̬ͨ̌̑̆ͫ̈́͋̉ͅy̬̣ͦ̇͊̔ ̠͔̞̔͒̐̏́l͙̬̞̥̥͍̦̩̱o̘͇̩̞ͯ̋ͭ͂n͎̦̜̻͈͍̺̖͊͒̀ͭͪg̻̰̹̥͕͊͛̊ͭ, ̰̭̝̈p̪͕̰̈͊̄̒ͨ̈́r̯̠̦̩̲̦͚̙ͨ̌̑e͕̬̔͛͌à̜̫͍̣͖̯͍̱̑̉ͧ̿c̟͕ͩh̟̪̲̦͚̙ͮe͕̬͕̰̔͛͌̒ͨ̈́r̯̠̦̩ͨ̌̑'̗͓̜̥̭̄̈ͪͧs̲̬̝͕̍ͭ̓ͦ ͣ̇̋ͨk͈̲̜̟͙͕̂̋̍̌̎̄̆i͗n͎̦̜̻͈͊͒̀."

Anthony stepped back, unintentionally slapping Layla's face. Both Professors Flitwick and Snape gave him puzzled looks.

"What did you do that for? Slapping won't wake her." remarked the latter, arms crossed over his chest.

"I... I heard something and it isn't pretty. I... I have to go!"

He bolted out the door, leaving the teachers even more confused, but Madame Pomfrey seemed to catch on quickly about what could be wrong - she simply hoped that it wasn't true, or else Merlin spare them all.

Anthony found himself at the library soon after, his tired feet nearly giving in from running so fast. He steadied himself once he found a pillar to support him for a short time.

"Goldstein, what's got you running like a headless chicken?", asked a familiar, condescending voice. Soon enough, Draco Malfoy appeared from a turn of the hallway, bringing Crabbe and Goyle with him as usual.

"Just a bit of exercise.* Anthony lied.

Goyle didn't believe him: "Let me guess; finding Campbell?"

More like finding out what exactly is controlling her.

"Close guess, but Layla's not in the library. She's asleep."

Crabbe smirked and stepped forward. "How strange must it be. I thought she'd be with the redhead Potter like how Weasley sticks with the other one."

Anthony laughed; "Layla isn't Ron, the only thing they share is the red hair and even then, Layla's hair is coppery. Also, just wanted to let you know that she wasn't at the Quidditch match earlier."

Crabbe and Goyle exchanged confused glances, then moved away: "Maybe she's sick from chasing after whoever killed the Galindez girl."

Without a word, Anthony entered the library, not even caring to thank Malfoy's flunkies for reminding him what exactly he should be doing.

Layla was really close, he mused when he scanned the list of recently borrowed hooks whilst Madame Pince wasn't looking. But not close enough. There were indeed paranormal activities at the school during the Halloween feast, but he doubted that Layla found a credible source in the hours since the Charms class. He walled from the counter to the catalogue, his eyes searching for relevant details.

"095... 906... 907... ugh, this is impossible!" he hissed. How could there be no records of the Serial Disappearances Case at the school where it was happening - for centuries, if Layla's and his uncle's claims were to be true.

"What are you searching for, boy?"

Madame Pince had appeared behind him with an inpatient face. She was always a stern woman, but she looked more stern today.

"Do you have a reference about... demons?", he asked bluntly.

The librarian gave him a disapproving look; "I'm afraid what you're looking for is at the Restricted Section. You need special permission to access that part of the library. The study of demons is particularly dangerous, especially for a first year. More often than not, those who seek to control such creature end up just like them."

Anthony was immensely grateful for the warning."I need it for Defense Against the Dark Arts.", he lied.

"Then go run to Professor Quirrell." Madame Pince snapped; "And do be careful while reading them. I heard of a recent incident about your classmate who was alone here too long, and I don't want anything, spirit or otherwise, to wreck having in this library a second time."

She left the boy to his thoughts after that.

Professor Quirrell was at his office, drinking a mug of ginger ale when someone knocked on the door.

"Come in."

A student stepped forward, and Quirrell was a little relieved how it wasn't the Potter girl. A "friend" of his, had previously warned him about the particular redhead and a constant companion of hers, Layla Campbell.

Layla wasn't the noisiest in the crop, but there was something about her that unnerved him, be it her clear eyes or that peculiar necklace she wore on her neck, he didn't like it one bit - more like his master didn't like it, he himself could tolerate some Catholic relics on his students.

Anthony Goldstein, he could tolerate also. The boy came from a long line of Curse-Breakers, and almost none of them had been Squibs in the recent generations. He did have an upperclassman by the name of Fitzgerald Goldstein, and he had often been sighted writing a letter to his brother, who wasn't at the school. Oh yes, he spoke up about him once: said he was under the care of some cardinal since he was seven.

Quirrell wouldn't be surprised if that Squib became a priest, which would explain how Anthony Goldstein had the same medallion as Campbell had, only it was golden and hers, silver.

"Professor?"

The teacher snapped out of his reverie, and smiled at the young Goldstein. "Yes?"

Anthony took a seat beside a portrait of a man in a black robe and purple scarf: "I need permission to access the Restricted Section of the library."

"And why is that?"

"It's for that essay about what Dark creatures we're interested in."

Quirrell straightened his posture; "Of course, of course. I recall you and Miss Campbell had similar interests, yes?"

"Yes."

It had been one of their very first lessons, when the chaos of the Halloween feast had yet to occur. His students were from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and he could spot the two redhead girls sitting next to each other, one whose coppery looks shone brightly in the sun.

"Okay class, for your term paper, you will make an expository essay of the Dark creatures that interest you the most.", he declared, earning a groan from the students sitting at the back rows of the classroom. He gestured to a few disgruntled Hufflepuffs, signalling for them to be silent.

"Psst Layla, what are you going to study?"

The classroom had been so quiet that he could hear every conversation that was going on. He turned his gaze to the two Ravenclaws sitting next to each other: both had medallions on their necks, and for a moment he forgot about the Potter girl who was thinking of her topic of interest.

"Demons. This thing, if the claims are to be believed, has been going on too long."

"Me too, though I doubt Professor Quirrell would allow it."

"Ah, an interesting point here.", remarked the purple clad teacher, approaching the Ravenclaws. "Yes, you can have the same topic, the both of you, only if you view those creature of interest in different perspectives."

Layla and Anthony looked at each other and let out satisfied smiles. "Demons it is.", said Anthony " but how should we go about this?"

"İ could focus on its possible role in the Serial Disappearances Case."

"At last you have something tangible to go for."

"And you don't?"

"Not at the moment."

Layla stumped in her seat, trying to think. "The Catholic church did have a 'no sorcery' rule - could explain all the persecutions the ancient ones went through."

"Oh it's worse than that, Campbell." Zacharias Smith joined in, earning a (well-deserved) glare from Jasmine Potter.

"Those filthy Muggles claim to have only one God, and that He's all powerful and yet here we are, able to create feats of nature like their so-called God. Those Muggles must've been jealous no? That's why they drove us away, to hype up a god no one's actually seen."

"And yet we die." Layla replied politely, her resolve to keep calm almost giving way. "That is the difference between wizards and God; we are mortal. Even Voldemort-"

For a brief moment, her resolve did give way, her eyes turning into an intense cerulean shade, which vanished as quickly as it appeared: "-was killed by his own spell."

Everyone started at her, surprised.

"You... you actually said his name?" Hannah Abbott whispered.

"What's the deal? I am not afraid of the shadow of a dead man." Layla dismissed with the wave of her faux eagle feather quill.

"Careful, Layla. He could grow out of someone's head and hurt you for real.", Anthony warned. "A particularly strong demon could do something similar, if you provoke it enough."

Quirrell listened to everything and for a brief moment, had the urge to adjust his turban.

"Sign this form, Mr. Goldstein - yes, just so... and give it to Madame Pince. Do be careful with the demonology texts; they can be quite dangerous at night."

Anthony grinned and nodded: "Thank you, Professor!", then he sped off in a bouncy fashion.

· · ─ ·☾☽· ─ · ·

Anthony walked with tentative steps inside the Restricted Section after giving the teacher's permit to Madame Pince. Suddenly, he felt a chill run down his spine, as if he was aware that something malevolent was watching. Closing his eyes, he muttered a short prayer and headed deeper into the room.

If he could compare it to anything from a storybook that's not the Bible, it would be like walking deep into the mines of Moira, only there were no dwarves to welcome him, or Balrogs to ruin his trip; just an endless array of books on forbidden subjects taken up by a few interested students, or books with grotesque imagery and other stuff that's very rightfully considered harmful to minors.

Was it his eyes that deceived him, or did he spot a figure or two sitting at a table, nearest the Demonology section of the library? Anthony passed them by, glancing once or twice to see if they really were just mischievous seventh-years dressed all in black - but then, he observed that these figures were faceless. If they were truly just seventh years in hooded robes, he would at least spot a semblance of a face in those hoods, and there was nothing but the cloth that gave these creatures their form.

He scooted closer to the shelves, watching the black robed figures continue to sit. He noticed a ladder and, making sure that none of his ominous companions noticed, started ascending the steps in order to retrieve a book.

There were many books to pick from this particular catalogue of demonic studies, but a rare fine in the shelves nowadays would be the Aros Goetia - with good reason, as it taught one how to summon and bind secenty-two of those fiends but like all books pertaining to such spirits, one should proceed with caution, lest their lives become forfeit. Anthony climbed down from the ladder and noticed how the library had become so dark: last he checked, it was still pretty early in the afternoon. He jumped down from the last step of the wooden ladder and hid in a corner - something was terribly wrong and he didn't know what was.

Round the corner of a second shelf came a black horse, no little pony but a full-sized horse; and on it sat a large man, who seemed to crouch in the saddle, wrapped in a great black cloak and hood, so that only his boots in the high stirrups showed below; his face was shadowed and invisible. He looked far more intimidating than the ones at the table, When it reached the shelf of Demonology books and was level with Anthony, the horse stopped.
The riding figure sat quite still with its head bowed, as if listening.

Dementors?, Anthony thought with a little confusion. His necklace was begining to flare and started to understand why Layla was making these pained expressions when her own artifact threatened to burn a hole on her uniform.

A sudden unreasoning fear of discovery laid hold of Anthony, and he thought of his medallion. He hardly dared to breathe, and yet the desire to get it out from under his collar became so strong that he began slowly to move his hand. He felt that he had only to show it to the mysterious figure, and then he would be safe.

He recalled them too late, because the moment a high-pitched shirek escaped the black rider's mouth, if they had any, Anthony screamed also - and the black rider screamed quite close to his face.

"N-N-N-N-NAAAAAAZGHÚÚÚÜÛL!!!! HELP! NAZGHÜL IN THE LIBRARY!"

The young boy sprung to his feet, the figures following him also. Anthony looked desperately for the way he had come, but in the pitch-dark library, everything appeared to be walls of books and tables occupied by the creatures. He felt a piece of fabric and tried to push it aside, only to immediately run off in the opposite direction as shrieks threatened to chip away at his sanity. The rider in black caught up to him easily, being on horseback despite the cramped spaces of the building. Perhaps is was God's providence that allowed Anthony a little more room to run, and not get fatally stabbed by a Nazghül blade.

"No ring! I swear I have no ring with me!", he pleaded while stepping on a cushioned chair. He was trying hard not to let go of his prized find, lest he wouldn't know how to help Layla, who had recently fainted after the Quidditch match. One of the creatures shouted and went for his necklace, but he dodged in time and pulled out his wand.

"INCENDIO!"

Fire shot from his wand, incinerating the rider in the horse (he just hoped the shelves won't catch fire too). Anthony quickly rushed out of the door, which he had miraculously found while running from the wraiths, and had an idea. He waited until the black-robed figures were surrounding him, shrieking all the way, and he raised his book. For some untold reason, he was lucky that Madame Pince wasn't around, because more Nazghül had appeared from under the counter, shrieking like maniacs.

"If you want this book, then go GET IT!"

He opened the library door as he shouted the last two words, allowing sunlight to spill in from the windows of the hallway. Curiously, golden fire surrounded him and when he turned to glance behind, Jasmine was standing there, her wand raised together with her Slytherin friend.

One stubborn Nazghül flew off in a range, making a beeline for the redhead. Jasmine retaliated by non-verbally forming a ribbon of golden fire from the tip of her wand while Anthony scurried off towards the Hospital Wing. Jasmine waited for the foul creature to come close enough, and with a flick of her wrist, sent it shrieking as it too, was incinerated by the enchanted fire. She covered her ears and nose as the flsmes reduced the creature to less than ashes, and glanced at Anubis with sheer terror on their faces.

"There's no ring here, what could they want!?", she whispered.

"A scarab. It's too bad they're not finding it here, so they're searching for a medallion as the closest thing. Unfortunately, we have two."

· · ─ ·☾☽· ─ · ·

A few weeks later and somehow, word got out that Anthony Goldstein had a scare in the Restricted Section. Several ignorant Ravenclaws jeered at him as he passed, but he was most concerned about Layla, who had mostly gotten her strength back.

"Layla! Look what I found at the library." He greeted one early December morning as he plopped down next to her at the breakfast table. The school term was waning, and the students were excited to go home for the holidays.

He handed Layla the book he had basically snatched from the library. "Believe it or not, a couple of Nazghül showed up to stop me."

Layla looked up, hoping that no Nazghül has indeed shown up at the hall - thankfully, it was seven in the morning.

"What would those Ringwraiths want? Sauron's dead and the One Ring is destroyed."

Yes, they were seriously talking about Sauron as an actual Wizarding figure in England, which was perhaps the last possibility both Catholics could think of.

"They might know something about the Hogwarts Serial Disappearances Case is they tried to scare me from trying to take this book. Whatever it is must contain something important."

Layla flipped through the pages of the book, earning her a few stern glances from hawk-eyed professors. "It's blurry.", she observed; the words were indeed blurry, but the pictures were clear enough as to why the book had earned the spot at the Restricted Section.

"Let's go somewhere else. We don't want too many people peeking into these." Layla whispered, grabbed the book and using her other hand, dragged Anthony out of the Great Hall.

Layla led her friend to the abandoned classroom where she had first encountered the shell-camera. She re-opened the book and booked on, frustrated at the blurry words.

"Ugh! I hate books with faded lettering. Even the labels on the pictures are unreadable."

"So much for the library scare when the information isn't even available. Oh by the way, what did you write to Father Goldstein about?"

Layla paused and thought about what to say. She knew it might be the weirdest message for a priest, but she had no other person to talk or write to; Anthony's Nazghül incident had come weeks too late.

"Balrogs.", she deadpanned; " I dreamt about Balrogs."

She walked deeper into a structure that would have any Gringotts goblin run for their lives - a dark corridor devoid of gold or riches. The walls were filled strangely with statues of students in uniform, some with their eyes closed, some open, others with their wands raised - all drenched in water. She felt like she had just stumbled into a forbidden structure of the school, a room so ancient that it might have once been the home of a few Dwarves from ages past; hey, she might've found Gimli's ancestors somewhere in the structure, if she was willing to search.

She came across a set of stairs that in another time, could have led her somewhere, perhaps down the deepest dungeons of the school, into the murky deaths on an autumnal night. This could have been how Alyssa died, lured underwater by the kraken she had seen during the Sorting.

She walked further down, a little put-off by the silence; there was indeed a certain ring to only hearing the echo of one's footsteps, and a thought came to her - the only other time she could hear the echoes of her shoes in a silent hall was when she was in the chapel at around five in the afternoon, just before the evening mass preparations could begin .

It had been within that hour when she first heard of those rumours.

Suddenly, she felt the urge to cover her nose. The room was getting too hot, like she had just entered an illusory gateway to a realm of spirits and sulfur. She ran down another long flight of stairs, coming at last to a clearing that ended in a black chasm with smouldering remains underneath. A box lay precariously on the edge of the clearing; it was a velvet thin, bearing someone's name - but Layla didn't care for poor, dead Alyssa's glasses case - something was coming to get her from underground; it was like a great shadow, in the middle of which was a dark form, of man-shape maybe, yet greater; and a power and terror seemed to be in it and to go before it.

It came to the edge of the clearing and the light of the smouldering remains faded as if a cloud had bent over it. Then with a rush it leaped into the air. The flames quickly glowed an intense red-otange, roared up to greet it, and wreathed about it; and a black smoke swirled in the air. Its streaming mane kindled, and blazed behind it. In its right hand was a blade like a stabbing tongue of fire; in its left it held a whip of many thongs.

The dark figure streaming with fire raced towards but stopped almost two centimeters shy of her face. İn the eyes of the creature that Anthony would've called a 'Balrog' were forms of many things; a rider in a black horse, a shrieking dragon flying across the overcast skies and lastly, a kraken - she hated krakens, and she had no doubt that this Balrog could shift into that form if it so wished.

Anthony was speechless when Layla had at least, relayed her nightmares to him.

"...So, you wrote to my uncle because you had a nightmare about Balrogs?"

"No Anthony, Balrogs don't show you other nightmarish creatures, especially not a kraken with intensely bright blue eyes!"

Anthony sat quite still upon hearing that. A Balrog showing someone the forms of other scary creatures was downright impossible, unless...

"Maybe it was your kraken disguised as a Balrog?"

"İ hope not. I can't fight two nightmares at once, and I don't know which I hate more."

"Obviously, it's not about what you hate; it's about what you fear."

Layla supposed he was right.

· · ─ ·☾☽· ─ · ·

It was quite odd to be riding towards a magical school on a red and white scooter sourced straight from the Vatican, but even more odd to have one's brother as a passenger at the back seat. Christmas was coming, and more often than not, it meant a few extra guests popping up at the school. Dumbledore could try to master Gandalf's bridge-breaking spell but the old coot would have to endure another priest for a few months at most; Layla's letter had summoned him there, and there had been rumours all the way at the higher ranks that Hogwarts's situation had indeed gone out of control.

One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in
several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.

"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them. Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he'd realized that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family.

He seemed to forget that Harry had a twin sister in a different house - unless Jasmine showed up to give him a piece of his mind (she ended up doing that cone lunch after Double Potions)

"You can stay with us over Christmas, Layla." Anthony invited over lunch. Both Jasmine and Padma had stickered ay the offer, all in good fun, but Layla wasn't answering. In fact, the poor girl had been shivering like a Hobbit since that morning.

"Brrr... at this rate, I-I might stay in school for the holidays... brrr... could send Nahida a few pastries though."

Anthony looked like a crestfallen puppy when he heard that.

"Maybe it's because those foul creatures scared her into rejecting?" Marietta Edgecombe jeated with an unladylike snort. Most of Cho Chang's friends joined in.

"For your information, I was the one scared half to oblivion by the Nazghül." Anthony clarified; "I'm quite proud to have survived that without the dreaded Black breath."

"And?"

"And Layla's going through something worse than what your Balrog-clouded minds can understand."

Jasmine nearly spat out her ginger tea, while Padma was doing a poor job at concealing her laughter. Even Layla was trying to hold down her spoonful of roast chicken, lest she spilled her stomach out on a sizable area of the lunchroom.

All three girls decided that 'Balrog-clouded' would be in their new dictionary of insults for Cho Chang, her friends and possibly Malfoy's and Smith's groups too.

Before anyone could ask about the newly formed insult, Professor Flitwick came down from the High Table, having received a small letter from a passing owl. He quietly ran towards the Ravenclaw table, as quietly as his little feet could allow him, and he tugged at Layla's right sleeves.

"Miss Campbell, there's someone waiting outside for you.", he whispered once he got Layla's attention. Anthony leaned in to listen.

"Who?"

"A certain Father Goldstein, according to this letter.".

Simultaneously, Anthony and Layla stood from their seats and ran off to the castle's main entrance, giggling like excited children - well they were indeed children, and there was nothing more exciting than seeing long-lost relatives and family friends.

Even If one of them was starting to shiver despite the two layers of winter robes over her ordinary school uniform.

· · ─ ·☾☽· ─ · ·