The air was crisp from the freshly fallen snow that blanketed the entire campus. Though it had only started as a faint drizzle the previous night, by morning it had transformed Hogwarts into a sheet of pristine white. The roofs were powdered, the trees glittered with frost, and the lake wore a thin icy sheen that reflected the dull winter sun like glass.
Ren walked briskly through the hallways, the thick fur of her coat brushing against her knees. The coat smelled faintly of cats and dust, a scent she had grown oddly accustomed to after borrowing it from the lost-and-found box in the common room weeks ago. Her breath came out in tiny clouds, and her boots left faint imprints of half-melted snow on the cold stone floor.
Through the wide arching windows, she could see a group of students engaged in an all-out snow fight near the Black Lake. Their laughter carried faintly through the frozen air. Ren didn't stop to watch. Her feet moved automatically toward the Great Hall, her stomach leading the charge. She hadn't eaten dinner the previous night, and her hunger gnawed at her with the same persistence as the icy wind outside.
The Great Hall was warm, glowing with enchanted torches and the hum of morning chatter. The scent of toast, pumpkin juice, and roasted bacon filled the air like a blanket of comfort. Ren slid quietly into her usual seat, hoping for a peaceful meal before the chaos of the day began. She piled her plate with honey-dipped pancakes and poured herself a generous goblet of orange marmalade, already feeling the heaviness in her eyelids fade as she ate.
Her brief peace, however, didn't last.
The Marauders had arrived. Well, half of them.
Their loud entrance was as subtle as a thunderclap. Sirius led the way, laughing about something stupid, followed by Remus, calm and quiet as always. Because there were no seats left, Remus ended up sitting beside Ren. The proximity made her instantly self-conscious.
She tried to act casual, pretending to be entirely absorbed in her breakfast. She bit into her pancake, sticky with honey, and took a long gulp from her goblet.
"Umm, I'm afraid that's my cup," came a polite voice to her left.
She glanced down and realized she was drinking from Remus's goblet. Her own cup sat untouched right beside it.
"Oh, sorry," she muttered quickly, panic flaring. Without thinking, she dribbled what was left of the marmalade back into his cup.
Remus blinked, completely taken aback. His expression was halfway between disbelief and horror.
Across the table, Sirius burst into uncontrollable laughter, nearly choking on his toast. "Merlin's arse, she spat it back! That's rich!"
Ren's face burned crimson. She wished the enchanted floor would open and swallow her whole. Instead, she focused on her food, pretending not to notice the spectacle she'd just created.
But her mind wasn't even on the table anymore. Somewhere between her embarrassment and the echoes of Sirius's laughter, she found herself trying to recall the boy's name. Was it Lamus? Renal? Ugh.
When she finally dared to glance at him again, Remus was still looking at her, not angry, just faintly amused. He shook his head, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, and took a sip from her untouched goblet instead.
The gesture was oddly kind, and that made it worse.
Ren stood up abruptly, desperate to escape the situation before she could humiliate herself any further. She strode toward the hall's exit, nearly tripping over her own cloak, and was just a few feet away from freedom when she walked straight into someone's chest.
James Potter.
He looked down at her with a mock-grim expression, his hazel eyes gleaming behind his round glasses.
"Excuse me," she said curtly, trying to sidestep him.
But James wasn't about to make it easy. He deliberately bumped into her shoulder as she passed. She stumbled slightly but didn't stop.
When she turned back, James was pointing two fingers at his own eyes and then at her, mouthing something that looked a lot like Watch your back.
She almost rolled her eyes and pushed through the crowd, finally stepping into the corridor. The cold air hit her face like a wake-up call. She exhaled slowly, her breath fogging the air. Whatever James's problem was, she couldn't care less right now. There were far bigger concerns clawing at her mind, thoughts that kept her awake at night, that made her feel like her brain was burning from the inside out.
She needed to see the Headmaster. Immediately.
Her steps grew firmer as she made her way toward the West Tower, her heart thudding against her ribs. The corridors were quieter there, the chatter of students fading behind her. The flickering torches painted long shadows across the walls.
She was halfway down the hallway when something or rather, someone slammed into her hard enough to knock her flat onto the floor.
"Ah—sorry! I—I didn't see you there!" squeaked Peter Pettigrew, sprawled awkwardly on top of her. His weight crushed the air from her lungs, and for a second, Ren thought she might actually scream.
Peter scrambled up, red-faced and stuttering, brushing snow off his sleeves. "I—I swear I didn't mean to—"
Ren's expression darkened with every word. A shade of deep red and purple flushed her face, her jaw tightening until she could feel her teeth grind. Her voice came out low and venomous.
"How. Dare. You. Filthy. Maggot."
Each word hit him like a physical blow. Peter's awkward giddiness faltered, his eyes wide with confusion and fear. Before he could even mumble a defense, Ren flicked her wand with sharp precision.
The spell didn't throw him across the corridor, not entirely. Instead, it slammed him sideways against the wall, the impact echoing with a dull thud. He didn't fall, but his knees buckled slightly, and his face twisted in pain.
Ren's boots clicked against the stone floor as she stepped closer, her shadow stretching long across the hallway. Her usually dull red eyes seemed brighter now, glowing faintly, almost unnaturally so. Peter wondered if it was just the torchlight or something more sinister.
Her lips parted as she drew in a slow, shaky breath, ready to unleash a string of razor-edged words that would slice through whatever courage Peter had left. But then,
"What do we have here?"
The voice was calm, deep, and touched with amusement.
Ren froze mid-step. She turned toward the sound and felt her heart drop.
Professor Dumbledore stood at the end of the corridor, tall and composed, his half-moon spectacles glinting in the dim light. His piercing blue eyes seemed to look straight through their souls as he flicked between her and Peter with a faint curiosity.
"Professor Dumbledore!" Ren blurted, her tone shifting so fast. "I wanted to have a word with you!"
"Why yes," he said lightly, his gaze lingering on Peter's trembling form. "I just acquired some spare time."
His voice carried that peculiar mixture of warmth and mischief, the kind that could either comfort or disarm depending on how it was used. Ren couldn't tell which one she was getting right now.
But there were answers she needed, and only he could give them.