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Behati Gadot

Like the sound of all the stars crashing in the dark, I said a prayer and buried your name

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Behati Gadot

Continued from here


After Juan had shown up again, tossing Emmett's unconscious body over his back like a bag of rice, utterly inanimate, whatever prior feelings of apprehension Behati might've held in her heart were vanished. She knew that there was no way Juan would back down from this plan anymore now that he, literally, had Emmett in his hands, and, to be honest, Bee wasn't sure she wanted to back down anymore. She grew more resolute, quickly, as she stared at Emmett's unconscious body swaying this way and that on Juan's back. "No," she announced to the boy, mind already set on what she was planning to do with Emmett's shoes. "Those shoes are seeing the bottom of the Great Lake." She didn't want to risk having a professor or prefect to happen upon Emmett's shoes and find physical evidence of their dastardly deed; which was why Behati had quickly picked up the fallen goblet which had rolled away from Emmett's hands when the boy fell.


Being on lookout duty, on edge, as Juan and Isobel made their way through the halls certainly left Behati with a heightened awareness that didn't go away until all three of them had gotten well enough outside on the lawns. Since she'd arrived at Hogwarts, Bee had only been to the Forbidden Forest once, with Thad and Zsuzsanna, so when she and Isobel had had to go out into the forest earlier in the week to pick out the proper spot to toss Emmett, she'd temporarily struggled to find her way back into the castle. But, now, as her feet hit the hardened ground of the castle lawns, her feet made familiar movement toward the Forbidden Forest. The Scottish Highlands weren't particularly well-known for their tolerable autumns—quite the opposite, in fact—so, although Behati wasn't surprised by how chilly the air had quickly become as the seasons changed, a shiver still ran itself throughout her body.


Was this really the really the condition they were going to leave Emmett in? Yes, yes it was.


Pulling her robes closer to her body, with her wand tip illuminating their dark path (courtesy of a lumos incantation), Behati turned to Juan and Isobel, whispering, "So what're we supposed to do if he ends up making up earlier than we expected?" How long was a sleeping draught even supposed to last?

Edited by Behati Gadot

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Juan Garcia

The bottom of the lake. Juan cleared his throat and shrugged at that particular thought. Hiding shoes was different. He could get them back. If they went down the lake, was there really any chance the boy would ever get them? Coming from a… lower income family, money was always a concern of Juan’s whenever he considered pranks.


“Maybe… not throw them in the water. Hide them somewhere. What if his parents just can’t replace them later on? And then we’re even worse than he is,” he commented, trying his best to sway the little Hufflepuff. Honestly, he hadn’t thought Hufflepuffs were actually capable of such devious plans, but eyeing the other, he wondered which had been the true mastermind behind it all. A part of him believed it was Isobel, but when he considered how truly heartless Behati appeared to be…


Remind him to never piss off a Hufflepuff.


Juan looked around his environment as they walked out of the castle and towards the Forbidden Forest He’d only been twice, as far as he remembered. The time he’d gone with his year and ended up punching Dax Gordon and getting detention, and the other time when his year had decided to also have some weird campfire. It had been fun for the most part but he’d never really considered the fact that it was a Forbidden Forest. Forbidden being in the name should’ve probably deterred them from it.


He turned towards Behati, who had apparently started doubting his ability with a sleeping draught. Or rather, how long the sleeping draught would last.


“Um we’ll be fine so long as we don’t stop for potty breaks, girls,” he addressed them both, trudging along the path and watching the trees come closer and closer into his line of sight. All he wanted was to drop Emmett off and waltz back into his bed. It was incredibly cold.

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Isobel Blake

Potty breaks? Ugh, she wasn't a toddler.


Isobel was not in a good mood. The relief she'd felt as they escaped outside unnoticed had quickly fallen as the cold crept in, and she felt uncomfortable beyond the physical chill. She listened to their footsteps crunching in the grass, watched the way her breath puffed out on the night air before her, but... her eyes kept drifting over to Emmett, sleeping against Juan.


This felt wrong. She wasn't sure what had changed -- if it was the way he had thanked Zsuzsanna, the appreciative wave to her that humanized Emmett in a way she wasn't comfortable with, or... the fact that she'd realized he probably hadn't known who Voldemort was, what blood purity had done to their world, or... maybe it was the slow, careful premeditation, how she had to still be involved with the crime and face what she was doing even now. Or maybe it was just that... it was wrong. She was helping to manipulate someone, spell them unconscious, and desert them in a forest in the cold with no sense of direction, and apparently without shoes. What if he woke up and continued deeper and deeper into the forest instead of heading back to Hogwarts? What would she do if he didn't show up irritated and embarrassed at class tomorrow, and the smug feeling she wanted never arrived?


Isobel swallowed hard and pulled her robes around her tighter, picking up her pace.


"He'll be out for a few more hours at the very least," she said quietly, annoyed at Juan but more annoyed at herself. "Come on, let's hurry up."


She pushed ahead of Juan and Behati and felt no comfort as the tall, sparse trees of the Forbidden Forest grew denser, taller, and more foreboding the further they walked. Isobel knew the stories about the forest were mostly made up to scare first years, to stop them from wandering off from the school bounds, but something about being here at night, what she was about to do, was making her heart race.


They walked most of the way in silence.


When Isobel finally recognized the tree at which she and Behati had chosen to leave Emmett, she halted and turned to face Juan. "There." She pointed to the base of the tree -- a monstrous thing, with gnarled roots thicker than a hippogriff. "We should put him between the roots there, where they hollow out." 


If he was curled up in the small alcove, he'd retain heat better. And he'd be less likely to be seen by... well, nothing, because there was nothing scary in the forest. But just in case.


Of course, she couldn't say those things to Behati, because it would seem like she was sympathizing with Emmett. And she wasn't, because he was terrible, and he deserved this, and seeing the look on his face tomorrow would be priceless.


"Just in case anyone comes by here for whatever reason, it'll keep him hidden until he wakes up." There -- a perfectly valid, selfish reason.

Edited by Isobel Blake

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Behati Gadot

"Stop being misogynistic," Behati told Juan through narrow slits of eyes. She was sure the older boy couldn't see her, nor did he probably really care, but her freckled face still twisted in annoyance. But, a voice rang to her, who was she to tell Juan to stop being sexist when she'd just lied to Zsuzsanna? Who was she to pretend to be a champion for women's rights and equality when she'd thrown a fellow girl under the bus like that?


No. She shook her head to get the voice to go away. Now was not the time. She wouldn't dwell on this any longer. She refused.


She shrugged at Isobel's guarantee that Emmett would be knocked out for long enough for all of them to get out of the forest and make their triumphant escape. This place was giving her the creeps, and she wasn't as privy to the knowledge that all of the rubbish rumours surrounding the Forbidden Forest were just that: rubbish rumours as Isobel was, so she believed every bit of alleged truth she'd heard about the ghastly place.


A part of her hoped that a centaur or something would appear and drag Emmett off to live with them in their centaur colony so that the sacred halls of Hogwarts would be freed of his menacing ways for once and all. She didn't say those bits out loud, though. There was already a sneaking suspicion settling itself into her skin that Isobel and Juan were, perhaps, not as down for this whole plan as she was. And by "sneaking suspicion" she meant the fact that Juan had literally just opposed her plans to throw Emmett's shoes in the Great Lake.




"We don't necessarily have to throw it in the Great Lake," she said, finally, after some thought. Lies, however. "But I'll take them and make sure they go somewhere that a professor or a prefect won't find them and connect it back to us." More lies. She was throwing those shoes in the Great Lake the first chance she got.


When they finally approached the spot that she and Isobel had picked out, hidden in the alcove of a big tree with monstrous roots that seemed more beast than earth, Behati was already making a quick move for Emmett's shoes and socks before Juan even fully put the lad down.

Edited by Behati Gadot

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Juan Garcia

Miso-what? Gymnastic? Juan wrinkled his brow, trying to think through whatever word it was that had just been used against him. Misogymnastic. He was pretty sure that was what he’d heard. Juan didn’t comment further on that because he didn’t want the girls to think he was dumb for not understanding what a first year’s vocabulary word was. It wasn’t like he was in any English classes, furthering his mastery of the language. He was a bit busy getting pelted by spells.


Were Juan any more observant, he might’ve realised that Isobel was not as enthusiastic as she had been before. But he wasn’t. And instead he simply nodded his appreciation for her quick judgement and assessment of the draught, “You sure you couldn’t have brewed the potion, Isobel? You got quite a head there.” Unless she was just using common sense. Or had he told them? He wasn’t sure of a lot of things he said.


Once Behati spoke up about not throwing them in the lake, he nodded, “See? We don’t need to stoop down to his level. It’s already bad enough we’re leaving him without shoes and wandless. Gotta have a little bit of a conscience when you’re messing with someone.” Juan dumped the boy by the roots that Isobel had pointed out and looked around. It was dark and chilly. And without his wand, would the boy have a way of getting back? Even if he was a blood purist, that didn’t mean he deserved to die, did it?


Juan sighed, looking around for something simple until he found a rock and held it in his hand. “Might as well leave him with some light,” he muttered, “So he knows he didn’t just, you know, sleepwalk here or something. He’ll know it’s someone making sure he gets what he deserves.” Transfiguring the rock into a small mason jar, he placed some bluebell flames in it and watched them flicker.


“It won’t burn him or die out. They’ll just keep him warm-ish, so he doesn’t die of hypnathorea, and so he can see where he’s stepping. He’s not wearing shoes,” he said, placing the little jar right beside him. “But now… with light, I’m sure we’re going to attract some kind of beast, so we should probably head out. A beast… or a professor.”


At this point, he was honestly unsure of which was worse.

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Isobel Blake

Isobel almost rolled her eyes when Behati snapped at Juan, but managed to catch herself. Misogynistic? Merlin. She was pretty sure Juan wasn't going around the school claiming girls were inferior because they had small bladders or cooties or whatever, the way Atlas would have. He'd meant girls pointedly, right? It was hardly a blanket statement about female competence during a covert operation. Isobel looked at both of them and had to hide the small sense of superiority she felt -- she was clearly the smartest one here. They were both wrong, after all: Juan for making her have to hear someone say potty breaks, and Behati for actually thinking there was something else offensive in the statement.


When Juan acknowledged her intelligence, Isobel stood a little straighter and was glad the dark of the forest hid her expression. 


"I read up on them," she said casually, shrugging. "I wasn't about to dose someone without understanding what I was doing. But I'm not familiar with a lot of the wandwork that goes into brewing it, so..." She shrugged again, and didn't add that she was afraid that she would have messed it up, not realized it, and somehow irreparably damaged Emmett in the process. Her mother was Morgane Montrosier -- she knew the dangers of brewing potions. That was still a possibility with Juan, of course, but surely he wasn't so stupid that he couldn't even brew a potion already taught to him?


Isobel glanced over at Emmett again, uneasy.


It was even cooler in the forest than it had been on the lawn. Her hands were pink from the chill, and she curled them into fists. Her breath continued to puff out into the air.


She glanced at him again.


Nevermind not tossing Emmett's shoes in the lake -- they shouldn't be tossing them at all. This was... so stupid.


She was so stupid.


Emmett deserved it. He knew everything he did was wrong and laughed at it anyway -- and though self-awareness was something she respected, he had crossed a line. He deserved it. He deserved it.


But she felt acute relief when Juan conjured flames, not even bothering with the hypnathorea.  "He should know. That's good," Isobel said firmly, echoing the vindictive determination she'd heard in Behati's voice.


She glanced back over at Emmett. He deserved it.


"You're right. We should head out." 


He deserved it.


They collected themselves, Juan taking Emmett's wand, and started walking back.


He deserved it.


Isobel didn't look back. Her face was set.


He deserved it.


He... he...





Before they reached the edge of the forest, Isobel held out her hand and turned to face her accomplices. 


"We should be careful about this. If we don't want Emmett to know it was us, we need to make sure no one even sees us walking together." She sighed, like she was annoyed about still being out in the cold, how much of a hassle their callousness was. "I think we should go back one at a time, just to be safe. That way if one of us gets caught or questioned for being suspicious, at least the rest of us don't get implicated." She had to sell it, had to be suspicious -- she cut her eyes to Behati and Juan, narrowing them in accusation. "But if any one of us does get caught, you don't say anything about the other two, got it? You take the fall, take a detention, whatever. No selling each other out."


She glared at them a little, before sighing. "Not that I think any of us will get in trouble. I'd just rather not us drag each other down." A pause. "That goes for me, too. I won't say anything."


After a moment, Behati agreed to go first. Isobel watched her carefully, not entirely believing that she wasn't going to toss Emmett's shoes -- Isobel was a liar, too, and she'd seen the way Behati had dived for the shoes, ripping them off Emmett like they were food and she was starving. But it made no difference if the shoes were at the bottom of the Great Lake or behind some statue somewhere, so Isobel watched her disappear through the trees. 


She stood with Juan until it was his turn, after enough time had passed, and watched him disappear too.


When it was finally her turn, she turned around.




Isobel looked down at Emmett.


The flames Juan had conjured were casting a ghostly glow on him, making him look... Isobel swallowed hard. She bent down next to him and hesitated. Juan had basically just dropped him, and the position he was in...  Her hand reached out in the dark, moving his neck so it was better supported, curling him between the roots so he looked like he was sleeping comfortably, knees to chest. She put the jar of flames right under his neck, where she hoped it would keep him warm. She avoided looking at his bare feet in the dirt. 


"You're stupid," she whispered to make herself feel better. 


Isobel stood and looked around, hating how she felt like someone was watching her. Her eyes skimmed through the trees, her heart pounding, a quick intake of breath at every shadow, then -- she found something. A tree covered with moss and chaotic, ancient roots, almost a twin to the one Emmett was lying beneath. 


She began to walk, wand out -- but paused.


Before she could talk herself out of it, Isobel slid out of her robes, ripped off the Gryffindor patch with all the strength she had, and wrapped them around Emmett's feet. She glared halfheartedly at the humiliation.


After, she walked back over to the tree, her tree, in the cold. She curled up between the roots so that she would be able to see Emmett, she would know where he was, she'd be able to keep watch -- but he would likely have no idea she was there. 


That would be a humiliation she couldn't bear. 


And so Isobel settled down, shivering, and angrily wiped a few stupid, dumb tears from her cheeks.


He deserved it. But maybe he didn't.

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Emmett Blaze

Emmett had a strange dream.


The dream had involved a voice he quickly recognized as his mother's, but he wasn't sure how he knew it was hers as he hadn't heard her since he was five years old. Somehow, however, he knew. He was curled up and reading a book when she came into his room (which looked like a combination of his room at home and his Hogwarts dorm). She was obviously drunk, bleary-eyed and cooing.


"My sweet Emmett," she'd slurred, touching his face gently, but fumbling. "It's going to be okay. Stop hiding."


Emmett had no idea what his mother meant, however, he suddenly grasped her arm, consumed by a strange urge to keep her close to him, but it was too late. She'd disappeared like the shadow of a memory, just her scent lingering. The scene changed, another dream -- he was screaming in pain, the sound a pierce against quiet and dark air. There was a ringing in his ears and then a crack of fire -- he swelled with the ache. Zsu appeared and Emmett waved to her, wanting to thank her for some reason he couldn't pinpoint -- but then she laughed harshly, and she, too, was gone.


It was then Emmett woke up with a start.


For a moment, he had no idea where he was. He only saw a cloud of swelling darkness and a single finger of dim, amber heat. His head felt as if it were throbbing with a migraine, and his whole body began to tremble like a spasm. He was blood-spotted from sharp roots and there was a ringing in his ears.


He was in a forest, and if he wasn't mistaken, it was the Forbidden one. 


Near his neck a mason jar flared, carrying a spitting bluebell flame. He realized his socks and shoes were gone, replaced by a robed wrapper. Emmett's immediate thought was that he must be in danger -- the pounding in his chest picked up and scrambled for his wand in its holster.


It wasn't there.


He froze. October was at its tail-end, and he had no jacket, no wand to create warm fire. A chill crept its way through his body, frost causing his lips to chap and dry, to peel brittle white. His face stung. His skin was plastered with cold, the chilling ache rippling through him with a startling force. He'd taken whippings before, bruisings in boxing and karate, but the mason jar hardly helped the low temperatures he'd been sentenced to for what, hours? A sickness hit him, the numbness coursing through his fingers and toes.


It had to be midnight, at least -- a half-crescent moon shone down, yet it hardly dampened the black. Emmett heard a howling from afar -- a werewolf? -- and eerie noises picked up around him like roaring wind. He paled, ashen.


Emmett's memory began to come back in drips. He was polishing his wand in the Great Hall. Isobel came to have a word with him. He remembered feeling guilty, but he didn't have time, because she'd taken his wand -- he chased her, his throat burned, he'd gasped for water and then..


And then he was out.


This had all been a ploy.


They had done this. Juan, Isobel.. Zsu. Emmett swallowed, a tremble in his jaw, as he thought about how Zsu had offered him the pumpkin juice, how he'd drank as if swallowing life and then everything went blank, dark, and he'd spiraled into the weird dream and ended up here.


A branch cracked, and so did something inside him. There was a crushing weight in his stomach like a big bruise as his head pounded with thoughts of betrayal. He felt as if he'd been stabbed. Emmett did not trust people. It took him years to get to that place, but he was beginning to think that Zsu was different. Zsu who.. who he thought understood him. Who'd stood in front of the apples. He hadn't been nice to her, but she continued to compliment him, to tell him he was special. She'd been unwavering. She'd started to worm her way past his barrier, to show that she wasn't despicable like most people, and it'd been all so she could do this to him. He thought about his diary entry to Isaac, how it'd been the first time he didn't completely hate being away from his brother.


And Isobel.


What had he thought? That Isobel somehow understood him? That his hatred for her was temporary, a game? She knew he was muggle-born and she knew he'd deny it, yet she hadn't told anyone, as far as he knew. He knew she was different in that he felt drawn to her as if they had some sort of twisted bond even through the war of words. As if they had something private between them. A deep and hidden part of him had almost enjoyed their duels, relished in the verbal sparring in a sick sort of way. They'd infuriated him,  but they'd entertained him beyond the mundane interactions he had with most people. He wouldn't have done something like this to her, ever.


He felt so damn stupid.


All at once, the flame he thought they had extinguished to ash.


She was dead to him. 


Juan was different. He could say the least about Juan. He could almost applaud Juan. Juan had managed to pull something over on him that he never would've thought possible. He could easily be dead right now -- he knew what creatures lurked in the forest. Centaurs and werewolves and thestrals and huge spiders. Emmett was violent, but he wasn't premeditated, not like Juan. Juan had shown him up, and Emmett was angry with him but not disproportionately. 


Emmett didn't feel just angry over the girls, though, if he could admit it to himself. He felt hurt. He wouldn't show this to anyone. No one could see him now, he thought, but the glow of the mason char mingling with muted moonlight highlighted the guttural ache of his expression.


In the dead of the night, Emmett croaked out a strangled gasp.


How the hell would he get out of here? Did he want to get out of here, did he want people to see him like this? No, but he had to. He tried to crack out a noise. "Hello." His mouth was dry - he hadn't had water in hours and hours, and his tongue stuck to the lid of his throat, causing the noise to muffle. He thought about what he knew of his mother and why he never liked the dark, and he thought about how he must look -- bloodied, shattered. He tore the robes off his feet, irritated that they'd bothered to wrap him. If they were going to take his shoes and socks and wand and leave him exposed raw, they ought to do it thoroughly. 


He'd have to walk barefoot across the grounds of the Forbidden Forest. He'd have to step on sticks and rocks and thorns and brave the claws of whatever creatures he passed. Emmett exhaled, his breath fogged, as another wash of anger, pain and near submission crashed through him. He got up and took a drunken step. Nothing had broken, but it all hurt. He winced, unsure how he was supposed to know what direction to go in when everything looked the same. He ended up following the moon, flares of ache hitting him again and again with each movement. He wasn't going to go to the Hospital Wing like this, though. What would he say, how would he explain it without making himself look like an utter fool?


No, he was going to his dorm, to hide, and the moment the sun rose pink in the sky and gilded the trees at dawn, he was going to find Zsu.

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