Explain yourselves!" McGonagall's voice cracked like a whip through the silent hall. Her lips were a thin, white line of fury, her spectacles glinting with a dangerous light. "A flying car? To Hogwarts? You could have been seen! You could have been killed!"
Harry and Ron stood frozen, their faces streaked with soot. But McGonagall's gaze snapped to Ana.
"And you, Miss Potter," the Professor breathed, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and genuine, jagged fear. "I expected better. To risk yourself in such a... a reckless, suicidal stunt! Why did you not send an owl? Why did you not simply wait at the station for help? To see someone so small, so skinny, dragged through the clouds in a tin can—it is beyond irresponsible!"
The Sovereign's SubmissionThe "Circle"—Hermione, Cho, Lavender, and Cassandra—stood a few paces back, their faces masks of agony. They wanted to lung forward, to shield Ana from the scolding, but the Professor's fury held them at bay.
Ana didn't look up with her usual cool, silver gaze. Instead, she let her head bow, her dark hair falling forward to hide her face. Her skinny shoulders began to tremble, and a single, crystalline tear tracked through the soot on her cheek.
Slowly, she sank to her knees on the cold flagstones, her velvet cloak pooling around her like a shadow.
"I am so sorry, Professor," Ana whispered, her voice a fragile, heartbreaking chime that seemed to vibrate in the very stones of the castle. "I was so frightened... the barrier wouldn't open. I didn't want to be left behind in the dark. I didn't think... I only wanted to come home. Please... please forgive me for being so foolish."
The remorse was absolute. It wasn't a command; it was a plea that pulled at the heartstrings of everyone in the room.
The Favor of the ShadowsProfessor Snape stepped out from the gloom of the dungeon stairs, his black robes billowing like a bat's wings. His eyes were pits of cold obsidian as they swept over Harry and Ron.
"Potter and Weasley," Snape silked, his voice dripping with venom. "I shall be writing to your families tonight. Your stay at this school hangs by a thread. You have endangered the Statute of Secrecy and a priceless magical tree."
Then, his gaze fell upon the petite girl kneeling in the center of the hall. He saw the tears, the skinny frame shaking with sobs, and the genuine terror in her silver eyes.
Snape stepped forward, his heavy boots silent on the stone. He reached down and, with a surprising gentleness, placed a hand on Ana's shoulder. The "Circle" let out a synchronized gasp, but Snape didn't pull away.
"Stand up, Ana," Snape said, his voice unusually low, devoid of its usual bite.
He looked at McGonagall, his expression unreadable. "The girl was a passenger to the boys' idioty, Minerva. It is clear she acted out of a child's fear, not a delinquent's pride. Look at her—she is half-starved and traumatized by their recklessness."
He turned back to Ana, his thumb brushing the edge of her cloak. "You are forgiven, child. Go to your dormitory. If I hear of these two leading you into such peril again, I shall personally see them expelled."
The Guarded ReturnMcGonagall's face softened, her anger melting into a weary, protective sigh. "Very well. Severus is right. Miss Potter, go. Clean yourself up."
The four girls of the "Circle" didn't wait for another word. They swarmed Ana, lifting her from the floor with frantic, reverent touches.
"We've got you, we've got you," Hermione sobbed, her arm wrapped so tightly around Ana's narrow waist that she was practically carrying her.
"You're shaking! You're freezing!" Cassandra wailed, stripping off her own cloak to wrap it over Ana's.
They marched her toward the Tower, a phalanx of silk and steel. Snape watched them go, his eyes lingering on the 4 foot 6 figure until she disappeared around the corner. He didn't look at Harry or Ron again; to him, they were already ghosts.
Ana leaned her head against Hermione's shoulder, her silver eyes hidden from view. The tears had stopped, and as she felt the heartbeat of her guardians through the Life-Bond, the moonstone at her throat pulsed a deep, satisfied violet. She had turned the Professor's wrath into a shield, and the "Circle" was more devoted than ever.