The tension at Hogwarts, which had briefly waned after Halloween, returned with full force the morning after the first frost settled over the grounds.
It began just as breakfast was ending.
The warm hum of the Great Hall was interrupted by a loud gasp from the entrance. Everyone turned their heads. Professor McGonagall stood frozen in the doorway, a look of shock etched on her normally composed face. In her arms was a small, stiff figure. The hall erupted into murmurs as she floated the boy's rigid body toward the staff table, his camera still hanging from his neck.
It was Colin Creevey.
Petrified.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood as the entire Gryffindor table rose with them, craning to see what had happened. The professors gathered quickly, whispering among themselves. Dumbledore stood silently, examining the boy. After a moment, he raised his wand, and Colin was levitated gently onto a conjured stretcher and whisked away.
The Hall was silent.
"Not again," Ron whispered.
Hermione looked as though she might be sick. "That's the second attack…"
"And on a Muggle-born," Harry added grimly. "Just like Filch's cat."
The whispering among the students didn't stop all day. By the time afternoon classes rolled around, the castle was abuzz with fear and theories. The words "Chamber of Secrets" were spoken in hushed tones. Many students had taken to carrying protective charms or wearing ridiculous talismans—some shaped like onions, others strung together with bits of garlic or silver coins.
A tall Ravenclaw boy was wearing an entire necklace of butterbeer caps he claimed would ward off evil. Another Slytherin girl carried a crystal that was supposed to detect nearby danger by glowing red. It hadn't glowed once.
"I swear if I see one more person wearing a repurposed sock as a talisman, I'll hex them," Ron grumbled as he, Harry, and Hermione headed back to the Gryffindor common room.
"Honestly, these charms won't do anything," Hermione said, although she was hugging her books more tightly than usual. "We need actual protection, not superstition."
"It's a bit late for Colin, isn't it?" Harry muttered. His insides felt cold—not just because Colin was his friend, but because he had been coming to see Harry when he was attacked.
"He was just trying to show you the photo he took of you in the match," Hermione said quietly, eyes lowered.
"Do you think the camera caught whoever did it?" Ron asked, perking up a little.
Hermione's eyes lit up. "If it did, it might have caught something magical the rest of us can't see! We should ask Dumbledore."
"Yeah, I'm sure he'll let us walk right into his office and examine a cursed camera," Ron said sarcastically.
Harry, however, remained quiet, his thoughts drifting to the writing on the wall and the strange coldness he felt the night of Mrs. Norris's attack. And now... Colin.
That night, in the warmth of the common room, students from all years huddled together, whispering anxiously. Even the fire seemed to burn lower than usual. Some fifth-years were passing around a pouch of dried leaves that was supposed to keep spirits away. Others were casting protective charms around their beds.
"Fred and George have gone completely mental," Ron said to Harry and Hermione, motioning across the room. The twins were affixing flashing badges to their robes that read: ENEMY OF THE HEIR? BEWARE!
"Idiots," Hermione muttered. "This isn't a joke."
"I know," Ron said, the humor leaving his face. "But everyone's on edge. I heard some second-years say they're going to ask their parents to pull them out of school."
"Can't blame them," Harry said quietly.
"Do you think Blackthorn had anything to do with this one too?" Ron asked suddenly, his voice low.
Hermione hesitated. "We don't have proof. And he is a pure-blood—so he wouldn't be attacked. But that doesn't mean he couldn't be the Heir of Slytherin."
"You really think it's him?" Harry asked, frowning. "Not Malfoy?"
"Draco's too... obvious," Hermione said. "Elias is much harder to read. He's powerful, and clever. so he is the biggest suspect.
"But again, no proof," Harry said, running his hands through his hair. "Until we make that Polyjuice Potion, we're just guessing."
Hermione sighed. "We're working on it. But brewing it is going to take weeks. If only we knew more."
Ron leaned back in the armchair, arms crossed. "Let's just hope there's not another attack before then."
Meanwhile, in the Slytherin common room, Elias Blackthorn sat silently on one of the high-backed green chairs, his thoughts far away. The conversation among the Slytherins had taken a familiar turn.
"Another Muggle-born down," someone whispered. "First Filch's cat, now that Creevey boy."
Draco lounged on a nearby couch, legs crossed and arms folded smugly. "At this rate, they'll all run away screaming by Christmas."
Daphne rolled her eyes. "Honestly, you sound just like your father."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Draco replied.
He had no intention of interfering with this year, unless it endangered him or those he cared for.
The biting chill of early December crept through the ancient stone walls of Hogwarts, frosting windows and dusting the grounds with a thin sheen of white. Students bustled through corridors in thicker cloaks and scarves, their breath fogging the air and fingers wrapped around hot mugs of cocoa in the Great Hall.
Despite the seasonal cheer that started to hum through the castle—decorations appearing overhead and warm scents wafting from the kitchens—there remained a shadow. Whispers still surrounded Colin Creevey's name, and more than one student jumped at shadows or the sound of approaching footsteps in empty corridors.
It was in the second week of December, as Transfiguration class came to an end, that Professor McGonagall straightened her spectacles and stepped to the front of the room, a familiar parchment in her hand.
"I will be collecting names," she announced crisply, "of those who will be staying at Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays. If you are not returning home, please add your name to the list by Friday."
Hermione was the first to step forward, quill in hand, with Ron following closely behind her. Harry lingered near the desk, waiting his turn.
"Staying again this year, Potter?" McGonagall asked, with a slight arch of her brow.
"Yes, Professor," Harry nodded. "The Dursleys... well, they're not exactly the festive sort."
McGonagall made a small hmph and gave a quick, approving nod before returning to organizing the sign-up sheet.
Across the castle, in the Slytherin common room later that evening, Elias Blackthorn leaned back in a high-backed leather chair, a book of ancient runes open on his lap. The flickering green fire reflected in his calm, thoughtful eyes. He had not signed McGonagall's parchment.
While the Trio remained at school for their own reasons, Elias had something far more personal to prepare for—his second Core Expansion Ritual. The first, completed the previous summer under his father's guidance, had yielded visible results: deeper reservoirs of magical power, sharper control. This second one, planned for the quiet of Christmas at the estate, promised even greater benefits—though it would require preparation, rest, and seclusion.
A tap on the back of his chair interrupted his thoughts.
Draco, arms crossed and looking unusually animated, nodded toward the hallway. "Come on. You've got to see this."
Elias closed his book with a soft snap and followed him out, Daphne falling in step beside them. The three made their way into the main corridor, where a small crowd had gathered around a shimmering notice newly posted on the board between two ancient suits of armor.
Elias scanned it.
DUELING CLUB
First meeting: this Friday at 8 o'clock in the evening
All interested students welcome.
A smirk curved across Draco's face. "Well, this ought to be entertaining."
"I suppose we'll find out who the real duelists are," he said quietly, folding his arms.
Draco turned to him, eyes gleaming. "You'll be going, right?"
"Of course," Elias replied simply. "If nothing else, I'd like to see what passes for 'instruction' these days."
Draco gave a snort. "I bet you could wipe the floor with most of them blindfolded."
"I wouldn't say blindfolded," Elias said mildly, "but I doubt there will be many challenges."
Daphne shot him a look. "Don't get too confident. I've been working on that disarming hex you showed me. Might surprise you."
Elias chuckled softly. "Then I look forward to it."
Over the next few days, the castle buzzed with talk of the upcoming Dueling Club. Some students boasted about their spellwork; others fretted about who they might be paired with. The Gryffindors had organized mock duels in the common room using cushions for wands. Even Ravenclaws, usually more book-bound than wand-fluent, had begun rehearsing counter-spells in quiet corners.
Slytherin House, however, took a different approach.
Elias continued his nightly sessions in the Room of Requirement, where he had now fully shifted his focus to magical combat practice in preparation. He had Daphne and Draco with him nearly every evening—Draco determined to prove himself worthy of his new Nimbus broom and House status, Daphne equally focused and competitive.
Spells clashed in brilliant streaks of light. Shield charms burst like soap bubbles. The three of them pushed one another harder each night.
"You're holding back again," Elias said, wand raised after parrying Daphne's quick stunning spell.
"I'm not," she shot back, her brow glistening with sweat.
"Yes, you are," Elias countered, flicking his wand. "Expelliarmus!"
Her wand flew from her grip and clattered to the floor.
"I rest my case."
Draco chuckled. "She hates being disarmed."
"I hate being underestimated," Daphne muttered, picking up her wand.
"Good," Elias said calmly. "Then show me your full strength."
That night, as they returned to the common room, Draco casually remarked, "I hope Potter shows up to the Dueling Club."
"Why's that?" Elias asked.
"Because I want to see if he really is 'the Chosen One'," Draco said with a dramatic wave of his hands. "Let's see how long he lasts against a real opponent."
Elias gave him a dry look. "Don't underestimate people, Draco. That's how you lose."
Draco frowned but didn't reply. Daphne, walking beside them, looked between the two and said, "Well, either way, it'll be interesting."