Halloween arrived at Hogwarts with flair. The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall shimmered with a dark, stormy sky pierced by flickers of spectral lightning. Jack-o'-lanterns floated in midair, grinning mischievously above the banquet tables. Students filed in dressed in costumes ranging from charming to outright ridiculous, laughter echoing beneath the vaulted arches.
Amaechi didn't wear a costume. Instead, she wore a long black velvet cloak embroidered with subtle silver runes. Her natural curls were braided in silver-threaded loops, and the shell pendant at her neck glowed faintly. Her eyes were sharper tonight—drawn, perhaps, by the ever-thickening hum in her chest.
Draco spotted her from across the hall and nearly dropped the candied pumpkin he was pretending not to enjoy. He approached smoothly, his costume—an old-fashioned noble wizard's ensemble—looking somehow both dramatic and effortless.
"You look like you stepped out of a legend," he said, half-teasing but earnest.
Amaechi arched a brow. "And you look like you raided your father's closet."
He smirked. "It was my grandfather's, actually. He had better taste."
They stood together at the edge of the Slytherin table, sharing quiet jabs and occasional smiles. But Amaechi's gaze kept drifting to the shadows beyond the pumpkin-lit walls, to the floor beneath her feet. Something stirred. The pull of the water hadn't left her. If anything, it was growing louder.
Just as dessert appeared, the doors burst open. Professor Quirrell stumbled in, eyes wide and turban askew.
"T-troll! In the dungeon! Thought you ought to know!"
Panic erupted. Students screamed, tables overturned, and the Great Hall became a storm of motion. Dumbledore's voice rang out, commanding order. Prefects herded students to their dorms, and teachers dashed into action.
Amaechi had barely taken a step when she noticed it—Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Draco, all slipping away toward the corridor.
"Oh, for—" she muttered, then followed.
They raced through the stone corridors, turning sharply down a staircase. Filch's voice echoed from behind: "You there! Stop! Back to your dorms, or it's detention and points off!"
They ducked into a passage and ran faster.
Eventually, they came upon the third-floor corridor.
"This is forbidden," Draco hissed.
"That hasn't stopped you before," Amaechi shot back.
The door creaked open under Harry's push.
They stepped inside.
And froze.
There, hulking and foul-smelling, a massive troll lumbered through the shadows. The six of them scattered as the creature roared.
"Use magic!" Hermione shouted.
They did. Spells flew—some missing, some striking true. Amaechi, heart thudding, summoned a wave of water from her pendant that surged over the troll's feet, causing it to slip.
"Nice!" Ron gasped.
"Don't just stand there—Stupefy!" Amaechi called.
Together, they struck. The troll fell with a deafening crash.
Silence.
They stared at one another, wide-eyed, panting.
Then the door behind them opened, and in swept McGonagall, Snape, and Dumbledore.
The scolding was swift. Detention was promised. But the professors couldn't quite hide their surprise at the teamwork—or the success.
Later that night, as Amaechi sat alone by the lake once more, the waters stirred again.
::You begin to walk the path. But beware. The mask you wear... and the mask he wears... may not be the same.::
Her reflection in the water shimmered—not just her face, but something deeper. Something older.
She touched the shell pendant. "I see that now."
The moonlight rippled.
She was awakening.