Things at Hogwarts had taken a turn for the decidedly weird. Apparently, Eloá's letter to the Headmaster had the intended effect - Hogwarts was now thoroughly protected from any lurking Basilisk threats.
It was also, incidentally, absolutely crawling with roosters.
With surprising dedication toward what might have seemed like a bizarre project, Dumbledore had personally woven a complex system of charms. Most of the time, the birds stayed in an enchanted pen built beside Hagrid's hut - a structure that had been severely expanded through magic. But whenever students moved between classes, during breakfast and dinner, or after curfew during Prefect rounds, the entire flock was summoned into the castle and given free rein.
Additional enchantments kept them from scratching up tapestries or vandalizing portraits, and they were barred from classrooms and the grounds proper. Meanwhile, the House-Elves worked tirelessly to ensure that not a single feather or droplet of avian indignity marred the floors. How they managed to keep it all spotless while remaining unseen was a mystery Gabriel had decided not to question too closely.
Still - the plan seemed to be working. Weeks into the new term, there hadn't been a single peep from the so-called Heir of Slytherin. Gabriel was grateful for that and quite content for things to stay exactly this way.
The lull also allowed his mind to drift toward other, more personal concerns - specifically, one of his younger friends, whose behavior had begun to worry him more and more.
That was why, on the morning of January 25th, a truly bewildering scene unfolded before the first-year students of Hufflepuff and Gryffindor: a Ravenclaw upperclassman sprinted full tilt through the corridors, a rooster tucked securely under one arm, before swooping down on one of their own, grabbing her by the robes, hoisting her over his shoulder, and vanishing up the stairs without a word.
Luna Lovegood, who had just witnessed Gabriel's dramatic abduction of Ginny Weasley, simply waved cheerfully after them and called out:
"Bring her back intact!"
-~=~-
What in Morgana's cold tits, Gabriel!?" Ginny shrieked as he all but shoved her into a broom cupboard and slipped in after her.
"We need to have a talk," he said simply, raising his wand toward the door. "Colloportus," he intoned. A satisfying click sounded as the lock sealed.
"And you had to grab me like a sack of potatoes and shove me in here for that, you bloody pillock!?" Ginny snapped - then froze, eyes adjusting to the dark. "And why did you bring a bird!?"
"I picked you up like that because I thought it'd be funny," Gabriel replied matter-of-factly.
He was immediately rewarded with a sharp kick to the shin.
"And it was," he added - and earned another.
"You're only going to hurt your feet doing that, you know?"
Her response was to shove a hand in his face. He went cross-eyed looking at it and sighed. "Honestly, you girls are so unreasonable."
She made a low sound that he was fairly sure was a growl, and the tip of her wand began to spark dangerously.
'Do all Gryffindor girls do that lion thing? he mused as she glared at him. Hermione does the growl sometimes too. And she's definitely got the mane for it. But she had it already before the sorting. Maybe it's a House requirement to look and act like a lion?'
He snorted to himself, which only made Ginny's wand spark harder.
'Actually, that's a thought - Lion Hermione. Like a werewolf, but a werelion. Can I even do that? Transfiguration's done weirder things before. Maybe I'd have to study an actual werewolf first-'
"-briel! Gabriel! GABRIEL!"
"Uh? Oh, yeah, it wasn't me," he said automatically, blinking down at the furious redhead now glaring up at him with an expression eerily reminiscent of Hermione's. He still hadn't worked out what that look meant, exactly - only that it tended to precede shouting.
"Can you just… let me go?" Ginny said, exasperated. "I've got class in two minutes."
"Yeah, with Binns. Relax, he doesn't notice who's there anyway. As long as most of the class shows up, he's happy."
She narrowed her eyes. "How do you even know my class schedule?"
""Luna,"" they both said at once - though one of them sounded considerably more cheerful about it than the other.
"Oh, don't make that face. I'm doing this for your own good, you know?" Gabriel teased, though his voice carried an undertone of seriousness.
"What do you mean?" she asked, frowning.
"First, let me deal with the light. I'm already half-blind in daylight." He flicked his wand upward; no words, no motions beyond the smallest twist of the wrist. A stream of blue fire spiraled from the tip, condensing into a floating orb that filled the cramped cupboard with a soft azure glow.
Ginny stared, momentarily distracted. "You should get glasses," she said absently.
"Please don't tell me you're projecting your crush onto me," Gabriel pleaded.
The dry glance she gave him was answer enough. He looked down at the rooster under his arm as it gave an indignant bok.
"Yeah, mate, I agree - that sounds like a load of drama," he muttered.
"Again," Ginny said, arms crossed, "why did you bring the bird, Gabriel?"
"Right, yes. Let me explain." He adjusted his hold on the rooster and looked faintly sheepish. "I picked you up like a sack of potatoes because it sounded fun-"
He paused, waiting for the inevitable kick. When none came, he smirked and continued, "-and I brought you somewhere private because I've got a few sensible questions to ask, and I didn't want to embarrass you in front of the others."
'Or let you dodge the answers again,' he added silently.
"And doing all that in front of my classmates isn't embarrassing me?" Ginny asked mildly.
"It is," Gabriel admitted without shame, "but it's funny - and this way, you can blame it on me instead of yourself."
"Of course I'll blame you! And you still haven't explained the chicken!"
The chicken in question let out an indignant bok! at the accusation.
Gabriel laughed and promptly shoved the bird into her startled arms. "He's your emotional support animal - I read about it in a Muggle book about therapy."
"What's a 'The Rappy'?" she asked, frowning.
"No, it's- never mind." He sighed, the amusement draining from his face as he focused back on her.
"Look. I know I act a bit like an idiot most of the time - playful, loud, whatever — but I'm actually a pretty smart bloke, if I say so myself. My grades are at the top, I'm the best in class at anything I bother to try, I never had any trouble casting a spell, and I read theoretical material years ahead of my level and have no trouble understanding it."
"Wonderful," Ginny deadpanned. "You're a genius. Can I go now?"
"No." His tone was calm but firm. "I'm telling you this so you understand that I'm pretty good at magic - so when I start getting strong gut feelings - real ones - I don't ignore them. Sometimes I feel pulled toward certain places, or people, or I hear faint voices in my head that sound like my own. So I research it, and when I find out those are signs of someone with a developing Third Eye…"
He shrugged. "Well, then I start giving those instincts a bit more credit."
Ginny frowned. "Are you getting somewhere with this?" she asked, though there was a tightness in her shoulders now that hadn't been there before.
"Since I came to the Isles, and specially after I got in Hogwarts..." he continued quietly, "I sometimes meet someone and just… feel something. Like 'this person needs friends,' or 'this person wants to be normal,' or 'this person needs some support.' Sometimes it's faint. Sometimes it's louder."
She swallowed, voice smaller now. "And… what did you feel when you saw me?"
He dropped to one knee so he could look her in the eyes. "'This person needs help.'"
The words hit like a blow. Ginny took a deep, shaking breath - but said nothing.
"And you know what really bothers me?" he went on softly. "It's that the feeling hasn't gone away. It's only gotten stronger with time."
Her hands tightened around the rooster. The bird clucked softly, oblivious to the tension.
"Something happened back on Halloween, didn't it?" Gabriel asked, voice gentle.
She nodded mutely.
"I just want to make sure you're safe, Ginny," he said, and his tone carried none of his usual levity. "You're my friend. And you're starting to worry me a lot."
It didn't take much longer until Ginny spilled everything.
She told him about the black diary that had appeared among her things the autumn she'd gone shopping with her family - how it had felt nicer than almost everything else she'd brought home, how she'd convinced herself it had been left by mistake tucked with one of her secondhand books. She described the warm relief it gave to write in it, the way it felt to pour everything she kept inside onto the page. It was freeing, she said, like having a secret friend.
And then the dreams began. Dreams of a pale boy in prefect's robes with dark hair and unassuming brown eyes. In her sleep they walked through the castle together and he showed her passages she somehow found in waking life. He never spoke aloud in the dreams, but every night she seemed to see him a little more clearly.
She was hazy about that Halloween. She remembered not feeling hungry, only an irresistible urge to sleep and to try to meet the boy again. She couldn't recall falling asleep; she only woke to Professor McGonagall standing over her, more exhausted than before. Her sheets were stained with blood. She made the Head of House promise not to tell anyone - and Minerva, assuming the same as Hermione had, agreed. Ginny admitted, red-faced and miserable, that she hadn't been certain of the cause of the blood. When she tried to remember that night properly, memory blurred and stopped.
After that first time, something else happened: the boy from the diary - Tom, she learned his name was - began to answer her. Not in dreams but on the page, in the ink. It was wonderful at first, a secret friend no one could touch.
But then the nights grew worse. She woke perpetually tired. She found herself sleepwalking, or waking with sore feet and strange scents clinging to her clothes. As the year drew on, it worsened. Returning home for Christmas helped, for a while, but when term resumed something seemed to have made Tom very upset. He grew sharp and impatient, sarcastic and sometimes cruel. He stopped appearing in her dreams.
She finished, morosely silent.
"Can I see it?" Gabriel asked.
She hesitated, then nodded. From her bag she drew the black journal - plain, worn, its pages aging. She handed it to him. He turned it over, inspected it, then opened it and flipped through what seemed like blank pages. He asked for ink and a quill; she handed them over. Gabriel sat on the cold floor, legs crossed, hunched above the book while Ginny crouched beside him.
He dipped the quill and wrote, carefully: "Hello, Tom."
The ink vanished. Seconds later new letters bled up through the page as if from beneath the surface.
"Hello. Who are you?" formed in neat, answering script.
Gabriel shut the diary with a violent snap.
"Yeah," he said flatly, getting to his feet and stretching as if to dispel the cupboard's cramped air. "This thing's cursed."
He cast a quick Alohomora at the door, which obediently clicked open, and walked out as calmly as if he'd just discovered a slightly sticky jam jar.
"What!?" Ginny cried, rushing after him, the rooster clutched to her chest.
"Totally cursed. One hundred percent. No doubts about it," he said, moving up the stairwell. His voice dropped, steady and sure. "As soon as it started talking, my 'sense' went off like bells."
"And what did it say?" she asked, the worries tumbling from her in a rush.
He halted on the landing and turned to look at her in the pale blue light from the little flame still winking faintly behind him.
"'This thing needs to be killed,'" he said quietly. "'Killed,' not 'destroyed.'"
Ginny didn't know what to say for a long breath. Her eyes darted about as if the stone walls might offer answers. Then she noticed the direction Gabriel had been heading and the dread in her face sharpened.
"What are you going to do?" she whispered.
"I'm taking this to the Headmaster. I'm not keeping that thing with me for even a second longer." Gabriel's tone was blunt, looking down at the object in his hands with a face full of disgust.
"You can't!" She burst out, panic shredding her composure. "He'll expel me!" Tears gathered in her lashes, sudden and hot.
Gabriel's expression softened. He sank to his knees again and opened his arms. Ginny collapsed into them, sobbing into his shoulder. She babbled - about being thrown out of Hogwarts, about her brothers' shame, about her parents' disappointment, about being cast off like her mother's cousin. He patted her back and murmured promises he hoped were true.
"He won't," he said firmly. "I promise." She kept crying anyway. "Ginny, I'm serious. You were used by this thing. It wasn't your fault."
"But it was me," she rasped.
"It wasn't." He sounded almost angry now, not at her but at the idea itself. "It really wasn't. You can be no more blamed for it than a werewolf is for what they do when they change." The comparison didn't make her feel better; she only sobbed harder.
"Look," he said, low and urgent. "I won't say your name. I swear it. Even if Dumbledore asks me. Even if he threatens me-" He stopped as Ginny hiccupped, incredulous. He smiled helplessly. "I won't say it was you who had the diary, okay?"
He didn't think he'd even need to, truthfully. They were hardly out of earshot of the castle's gossiping portraits; and Gabriel would eat his shoe if Dumbledore didn't know everything they had spoken about at this point. Still, he meant it. If given the chance he would take the blame rather than letting her be cast out.
It took a few minutes for Ginny to calm enough to disentangle herself. Gabriel gave her a small, encouraging smile, then rose and turned away - eager to put distance between himself and the cursed thing.
"Gabriel." Her voice tugged him back; he turned. The worry was still there, raw in her eyes. "Please - please don't let him expel me."
Frankly, he hadn't the faintest idea how to handle a desperate girl. He was honestly just as terrified that she might be in trouble as she was, and he was equally motivated to help her avoid said trouble in the first place. So he did the first thing that came to mind: he stuck out his pinky.
"I swear I won't," he said.
She searched his face for assurance and, satisfied, linked her pinky with his in a solemn, earnest seal.
"Go back to class now," he said briskly. "Or go stalk Harry, whatever takes your fancy. I'm sure Binns won't notice."
Ginny flushed and gave him a weak glare. "I don't stalk him."
"Right." Gabriel's tone said exactly how much he believed her, which is to say, not at all.
She hesitated, then - because girls of eleven were made of quick needs and contradictions - and asked another question, voice small: "Do you think I have a chance?"
"What?"
"With Harry, I mean."
Gabriel froze for a heartbeat, then snorted. 'A minute ago she was terrified of being the school's scapegoat; now she's worried about boys.'
"Tell you what. Next time I see him, I'll ask what kind of girl he likes, all right?" he said.
Ginny brightened, a mixture of excitement and anxiety lighting her features. She hugged him quickly, then scampered away. Gabriel got to his feet and started walking away with a relieved sigh.
"Gabriel?" she called again from the corridor.
He used all he had to avoid groaning, instead merely turning his head to look back at her, he eyes fixed on the diary.
"If… if Professor Dumbledore says there's nothing wrong with the diary… could you give it back?" Her voice trembled with hope and fear both.
Gabriel blinked.
"Sure," he said, pumping a thumb up. She smiled and hurried off.
He watched her go, then let his shoulders drop. As soon as her back was turned, he revealed his fingers crossed.
"As if," he muttered to himself, and set off toward the Headmaster's tower. "If Professor Dumbledore somehow became senile enough to think this thing isn't cursed, then I'll deal with it myself. I've been waiting for a chance to try and transfigurate TNT anyway, this looks like a great test subject."