Audrey rushed into the Great Hall—only to find it completely empty.
Lunch had already ended. Iseline had gone to class.
"This is troublesome," Audrey muttered to herself. "That girl isn't angry… is she?"
She worried for exactly two seconds.
Then Audrey broke into a smile. "No matter. At worst, I'll have Momo cook two of Iseline's favorite dishes for dinner."
A friend who could be bribed with two lobsters wasn't hard to placate. Really, wasn't it just a matter of good food?
With that thought, Audrey turned to head back to the dormitory.
Ah—wait. No.
Defense Against the Dark Arts class was in the afternoon!
Such a wonderful source of entertainment could not be missed. This was premium comedy—far better than soap operas or cheaply made trash films.
And best of all, it was live. Interactive, too.
When Audrey pushed open the classroom door, Professor Lockhart was in the middle of casting roles. Seeing her arrive, he beamed with delight and did not scold her or deduct points for being late.
Of course not. She was his most loyal audience—the most enthusiastic kind.
After the first week of classes, Lockhart was no longer as popular with students as he had been at the start of term.
Everyone had noticed that this widely celebrated "great wizard" seemed… heavily watered down.
Faced with a Cornish pixie that a second-year witch could easily subdue, this so-called "master of magic" had been disarmed and fled in panic.
And that second-year witch—yes—was the future Minister for Magic, Miss Granger.
Class ended.
Audrey strolled lazily out of the classroom, heading toward the Great Hall while thinking about how she should apologize to Iseline later.
But before she could get far, the future Minister for Magic rushed up to her, panic written all over her face.
"Audrey! Something happened to Iseline Windsor! Come with me—quick!"
Iseline had Potions in the afternoon. The incident occurred on the path between the Potions classroom and the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
Her body was rigid. Her eyes unseeing.
She had been petrified.
Before arriving, Audrey's heart pounded wildly.
There was only one major disaster that could occur this term—the Basilisk.
But upon seeing Iseline's petrified form, Audrey instead let out a breath of relief.
In the original timeline, no one died. One could call it absurdly good luck—aside from poor Myrtle, who had been killed outright fifty years ago, everyone else—human or animal—avoided direct eye contact with the Basilisk.
But this time, the victim was Iseline.
And Audrey had zero confidence in that girl's luck.
Anyone who became friends with her, a professional slacker, clearly had terrible fortune. Just look at how many extra troubles Iseline had taken on since meeting her—and how much worry she'd endured on Audrey's behalf.
Still—thank goodness.
Just petrification.
Audrey looked around and spotted a ventilation grate in the corridor ceiling. Beside Iseline stood a suit of armor, its surface polished to a mirror-like sheen—and it was moving.
So she must have seen the Basilisk's eyes reflected in the armor.
In the original timeline, the first attack occurred on Halloween.
But now it was barely the start of term.
And there was no message on the wall proclaiming the "Heir."
Everything about this felt wrong.
Snape arrived in haste. At this hour, nearly all students were heading toward the Great Hall. No one else was nearby.
The only ones who might have passed through were Iseline—on her way to find Audrey in the Dark Arts classroom—and Hermione, who had planned to return a book to the library before lunch.
"Miss Astrea," Snape said coldly, "you will explain to me exactly what happened here."
Then he turned sharply to Hermione. "And you, Hermione Granger—when something happens at school, should you not first seek a professor? If not for a ghost informing me, I wouldn't even know one of my house students had been harmed!"
A burst of firelight.
Dumbledore appeared.
"That's enough, Severus," he said calmly. "Miss Granger handled the situation very well. The ghosts who notified us were acting under her direction."
"Calm under pressure, appropriate response—Hermione Granger earns five points for Gryffindor."
Snape snorted and said nothing further.
Fawkes cried softly and flew to perch on Audrey's shoulder, whispering continuously in her ear—apparently accusing Dumbledore of abusing their contract to force him to work.
Dumbledore rubbed his temples awkwardly. He was beginning to wonder whether he should contract another phoenix—this one seemed to be malfunctioning.
Fortunately, the arrival of Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, and Madam Pomfrey spared him further embarrassment.
"Oh my goodness!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed. "Who could do something so cruel to an innocent young witch?"
"Is she dead?" someone asked.
Dumbledore gently tapped Iseline's shoulder with his wand. She did not respond—like a museum specimen.
Gilderoy Lockhart arrived fashionably late.
"My apologies, everyone," he said grandly. "I was just dealing with some very important matters."
(Changing into his dinner outfit and carefully styling his hair.)
He leaned in, examined Iseline, and declared loudly, "This is clearly the result of a curse! I believe it was the Transfigurative Torture Hex. I've seen it used many times. A pity I wasn't here—otherwise I'd have known the countercurse, and this poor girl wouldn't have suffered!"
"Thank you for your input, Gilderoy," Dumbledore said mildly, pushing his glasses up his nose. "The girl is not dead. She has merely been petrified."
"Oh! That's wonderful," Lockhart said at once. "I believe I know a spell that can cure petrification—"
"Mandrake Restorative Draught," Audrey said calmly.
"Oh—yes, yes, yes, the restorative draught!" Lockhart laughed awkwardly.
"Though my spell is more effective, of course—but the potion is also a fine option."
"We don't have any Mandrakes in stock," Professor Sprout said sadly.
"The newest ones were only just planted. I was planning to have students repot them in early October."
"No, Professor," Audrey said. "I can make the Mandrakes mature quickly."
Every professor's eyes lit up.
Audrey's laziness was well known among the staff (except Lockhart), but it was equally well known that she possessed ancient plant-related magic.
Professor Sprout seized Audrey's hand. "Quickly, child—come with me to the greenhouse!"
As they walked, she sighed wistfully. "Accelerating plant growth… you really should have been a Hufflepuff."
As they left, Snape curled his lip.
"Audrey Astrea used advanced magic to save a fellow student. Slytherin—thirty points."
McGonagall: …
Flitwick: …
…
…
A Mandrake-based restorative draught was not particularly difficult to brew.
In the hands of a Potions Master like Snape, it was completed in minutes.
The potion was administered.
Iseline's body slowly softened. Her chest began to rise and fall.
"It worked!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed joyfully.
But Dumbledore said quietly, "Poppy, don't celebrate yet. Something isn't right."
Audrey nodded, her expression grave. "Iseline shows no sign of waking."
Madam Pomfrey stepped closer and examined her carefully.
"Her body is completely normal. But why hasn't she regained consciousness?"
She looked at Snape.
Snape scowled. "Don't look at me! My potion is flawless."
Dumbledore spoke softly.
"The child has been cursed. It is an extremely sophisticated curse."
Audrey asked immediately, "Can you remove it?"
Dumbledore sighed deeply.
"…No."