Detained PV Detention Closed

Boy oh boy, Ami knew meeting Dorian Gray was going to come back to bite her in the butt. Of course, the Gryffindor boy would tattle on her reach out to a teacher after his knee was broken, but detention? Surely, that was a little rash.

Ah, who was she kidding? She totally deserved this. Just her luck that the detention was moderated by her Head of House and favorite professor, Solomon Lear. Taking her seat and smoothing out her robes, Ami listened to the professor explain the rules of the detention. Writing? Huh, that's not so bad... and although she should have been listening, she didn't fully register his last words- if she had, she would've been far more aware of her surroundings. But, it was too late. The quill was already in her hand, and the ink was already on her paper.

Fear was an easy topic for the Hufflepuff. Although seemingly fearless, Ami was filled to the brim with fears- fear of failure, fear of never being good enough, fear of disapproval, fear of acne, fear of bees... all of these were good topics to write about, but Ami opted to write about not one, but two of her more light-hearted fears.

Lots of people like my hair
I don't know why, nor do I care
I leave it down on most days
It shimmers in the sunny rays
But what fills me with hot air
Is when people touch my hair

Don't ask me why kids touch my hair
I don't know why, but I do care
It's weird, it's rude, it's disconcerting
You can't see, but inside I'm hurting
It makes me cringe inside my heart
When you reach out, it makes me start

Could you please not touch my hair?
I know it can make people stare
when I scream and shout
and flail about
I just don't want for you to touch
Or grab or play with or clutch

Call me rude right to my face
I'll kick you into outer-space
Why can't people understand
My head just shouldn't touch their hands?
Who knows what junk that they've been touching?
Who knows whose hands that they've been clutching?

But aside from all that rambling
There's another situation in which I'm gambling
away my health, and that's at hotels
This, some of us can relate to all too well
If I want to stay squeaky clean
I need to use that washing machine
It's called a shower, but it's a demon
Really, just considering leaving

You never know how to work the knobs
You'll want to attack the makers in mobs
Plus, the temperature's never right
It seems to be enitrely made of spite
But when all is said and all is done
You need a shower- just that one

There's a lot of things I fear
Two of them are listed here
I hate it when kids touch my hair
I loathe hotel showers everywhere
Call me spoiled, call me a brat
But I won't care- it's my opinion, and that's that!

With a sigh of relief and finishing the poem, she wrote her name at the top and stood up. Noticing she was the first one done, Ami walked up to the front of the room with a bit of a spring in her step, and placed her poem on her Head of House's desk. "Here, Professor." Turning on her heel, the redhead headed for the door of the classroom.

[Ami attempts to leave the classroom]

Evelyn hadn't meant to hit them. She had lost grip of her golf club and it just went swinging behind her. A rookie mistake and one she doesn't plan on making again. Not that that helps now, as she was still stuck in detention with delinquents of all things. Which might've been a bit hypocritical of her but it wasn't even personally about them. She just didn't find many that would take anything seriously.

Which is all the more reason for her to try and leave like the hufflepuff before her. But first she needs to finish the assignment given to her.

I slip on rocky steps
They lead down to inky depths
Calm water laps at my shoes
If only there was nothing to loose

But dread ran from my toes to my spine,
My back as rigid as a line
I felt my body stiffen with tension
Something was coming, I knew with apprehension
This is why I did not want to come
Seeing the beady of eyes of this thing made me go numb

Swim girl swim! the kelpie keens

Must I? It felt like walking to a guillotine

You must! the kelpie neighs

I feel my resolve shudder and sway
The water drags up through my clothes
Water snakes deal deathblows

Swim girl swim, they all cry out

I do not consider to shout
Seaweed tangles in my hair like a mother's hand
My mouth is filling now with sand

Have mercy on me for I want to live!
What mercy is there to give?
Any please any, yet my eyes still close.

My dear, kelpie sigh, did you not grasp these wicked halos?

The kelpie whisper in my ear
Scream all you want, the angels will not hear
Try to swim girl. If you can.

I cannot and am dragged deeper into the purl
Magic cannot make me swim
Now water pulls at every limb

Why did I try to fight?
There was no reason for this fright
My body turns up on shore
Now I shall swim again once more


Evelyn shuddered; she accidentally pressed down to hard on the last line and splattered ink all over the corner page. Close to tears she placed down the paper on Solomon's desk with more force then necessary then tried to exit.

Annabelle stared down at her blank piece of paper, quill in hand. Detention? How could this have happened to her? She had been trying so hard to prove herself to her professors and her fellow students. What if everything she had done up until now was wasted. The teachers would hate her now. She'd just be a "problem kid", like those bullies in her class that always bragged about the amount of time they spent in detention. She sat as far back in the room as she could, hoping that the other students could not see the tears that were beginning to stain her parchment.

Annabelle hadn't even realized that she had stayed out too late. The oblivious young girl had been so eager to explore her new school that she had completely forgotten about curfew. And now? Now she had to write about her greatest fear. The Gryffindor huddled in her seat, wrapping her arms around herself for some form of comfort. Anna's greatest fear had already been realized. She was in detention. She had let everyone down.

The guilty student wiped the tears from her eyes with a clenched fist. Better to get this over with. Placing the scarlet quill against the paper, she began to scrawl out her lines in the best handwriting her shaky hands could muster:


Annabelle looked down at her paper. It wasn't good enough. She wasn't good enough. Yet it would have to do. She wiped her eyes once more and took a deep breath before getting up to hand in her poem.

He honestly did not care what these kids did to get in trouble. Kids would be kids after all but rules were rules. His stables did not need any mucking, it was as if the unicorns stopped pooping mysteriously several months ago. He had no idea what was going on with that, not that he was complaining but that eliminated the usual 'punishment routine' while also assisting the pets - multitasking for the win.

However, something had gone wrong. Not just the mysterious gremlin or elf that cleans his stables when his gaze is averted. Solomon had been experiencing sleepless nights and waking moments of terror these past few months. The theft that was reported to him months ago pervaded his thoughts and his concern had slowly blossomed into  paranoia and anger. The children were in danger and lacked a means of escape, he had to save them by hurting them. Teaching them how to survive. How to fight back.

Perhaps a saner mind would know that he should not leave fate in the hands of children, unexpected things happen.

Animals often had harsh means of teaching their young how to hunt, how to fly, when to hide. Means that many would consider cruel but Solomon saw as necessary. They did not have the luxury of being coddled. The quills were put to work, the dark and terrible intent, to give life to their greatest fear. They would defeat it, exiting detention all for the better. A healthy fear of future detentions and a true fear defeated. 

Solomon would wait for these starving poets to finish their masterpieces. He was astonished when he saw how shallow Ami's fears were, but there was something enlightening about her qualms even if she did not quite realize. 

Aphenphosmphobia, well a very mild form like the one that she described with her hair is a fear or revulsion to being physically touched. While most often phobias are caused by a trauma, which typically occurs during childhood. Sometimes it reflects a predisposition to an anti-social personality disorder. Then finally, the most likely reason, the fear of touch stems from some other fear, such as claustrophobia. 

He wondered how the pen would take the spell the girl unwittingly cast. He would not physically prevent the girl's departure, he would not have to. Solomon did not notice the change at first either, it started on the floor. The floor was covered over in tile, rather that plank boards. The walls also, simple white and black tile. It was when she reached for the door that she would feel a sheet of plastic, like a shower curtain. If she tried to reach through to where the door once was she would find no knob. 

Solomon furrowed his brow, this was going to be an annoying fear. He let out an annoyed sigh as he looked up. One of the light fixtures had become a giant shower head. "Oh come on," Solomon griped out loud "why can't you have normal fears like monsters and vampires." The Professor complained as he closed his desk drawer that might have been filled to the brim with wooden stakes and silvered weapons.

And the water started to rain down from each of the light fixtures. The agitated doxies would scatter and squeal in annoyance. The water was ice cold, then far too hot. "Bloody!"

Ami's hair would be soapy. So wouldn't Solomon's, Annabelle's and Evelyn's. Disembodied hands would lather the hair on their head. "How are we supposed to combat this fear!" An agitated professor declared. Things were not working out as well as Solomon would wish. 

Evelyn's assignment would touch the Professor's desk just as the previous spell had become apparent. Solomon did not have a chance to read what she had wrote, not yet and sadly it was starting to take effect. The water was starting to rise in this 'shower', the hot and cold from above left a tepid bath that would slowly climb, now at the girl's knees and about mid calf on the adult Professor.

What in the world was this little girl's fear Solomon would be forced to wonder. The water would slow his movement as he made his way towards the soaked sheet of paper. The ink was already starting to run, making it hard to read but the spell no less effective. The spell had already been cast, she would need to defeat her fear to cancel the spell. 

The water continued to climb and shadows, like serpents started to stream through the standing water. Solomon tried to read what she had written about water snakes but the words were already smudged. "Did you girls plan this out! Get the swords out of my desk!" It was slow moving for the armored man, but the desk was unlocked and the waters continued to climb.

Snakes.... why did it have to be snakes. Solomon's inner Indiana griped.

Ha Ha... real funny girls.

"Whatever you're writing, just STOP!" Solomon pleaded, but he would be too late. Annabelle had already finished her verse as well. Her secret fear: failure in this place of all places drowning in a pit of snakes.

"Why can't you have normal fears!" He spied a window, as the waters continued to climb he would need to give the water an escape. "Separate fears! Maybe a killer clown. A spider."

Not really knowing all of the details of this escapade because for some reason they had to be in a shower. They were going to have to try REALLY hard to not fail while they nearly drown in a shower and somehow overcome a fear of their hair being touched. The later was easy, well not easy but conceivable but the former... that was going to be tricky. How can you defeat the fear of failure when failure might mean death?

There was no way she was going to get out of this alive. "Professor!" she screamed, eyes closed, mouth hanging open in shock. Why was there soap? Why was there water? So much water... It was cold, and then hot, and then ice, and then scalding, it made her skin crawl. "Professor, what on earth are you trying to-" 

Then it dawned on her, the shower curtain, the tile, those annoying hand touching her hair. Doing her best (but inevitably failing) to shy away from the grabby hands, Ami groaned. "Our fears?" If her fears were this ridiculous, how bad were the others'?

She vaguely recognized the other two girls in the room with her. One was a Hufflepuff, she'd seen her around a few times before, and the other one was a Gryffindor she'd seen around campus quite often, Annabelle, her name was?

"Rising water? Who the hell wrote about that?" At this rate, all four of them were going to end up drowning- wait, was that hissing? "Snakes?! And water?! Water snakes?" Sighing, Ami shot the other two a skeptical glance. So, they actually wrote about their fears. If they were going by the order of who turned it in, then these fears belonged to the Hufflepuff girl who seemed vaguely familiar. 

The Professor mentioned something about swords, as well, and Ami stared at him in complete and utter disbelief. "For real? I love swords, I want one." The Hufflepuff began to wade her way towards the professor's desk, not quite sure if he was joking, or not. Oh well, it couldn't hurt to try. Upon her arrival at the desk, she saw indeed, he did have sword. Taking one in her hand, she swung it around a few times, vaguely remembering a seminar she had attended at her local martial arts school in Chicago. Glancing at the Gryffindor, she added, "What did you write about? Please don't say clowns, that would be terrible timing."

They were going to drown in here if they didn't figure out the water problem sometime soon. "Do you think we can open that window?" Ami called. Normally, she wasn't one to take charge, but she wanted to get out of here as fast as possible. "Is there any way to open the door, too?"

With shaky legs and baited breath, Annabelle stood to turn in her poem. It was best to get this over with, wasn't it? That's right... she'd hand in her sub-par poetry, run back to her dorm, and continue her crying session in the privacy of her own bed. Anything was less embarrassing than this. Sobbing because she got detention... and in front of a teacher? Surely the Gryffindor girl was stronger than that. Yet try as she might, she could not hold back the flood of sobs that was coming over her. There was no use hiding. Her face grew pale and she collapsed back into her chair, closing her eyes and willing the tears to stay inside.

Yet the more she wished for this, the more she felt that they could not be held back. It seemed as though her tears were already outside of her, raining over her for all of the detention room to see. The feeling was so vivid in fact that she felt her hair and robes getting soaked. She had never felt quite so bad before... Annabelle Wolfe, the worst failure Hogwarts had ever seen. There must have been some mistake. She was no witch, just a Muggle who'd had the audacity to think that she was special... the sorrow washing over her felt like a literal wave of water. Professor Lear was shouting something- probably condemning Annabelle for her lack of strength. Then a comforting hand reached out and stroked her hair.

It was a strange thing for someone to do, certainly. Yet the shivering girl didn't mind in the slightest. As a child, her mother would always calm her down by stroking her hair. Every time she got overly emotional or too hyper, it never failed to bring her back to her senses. If there was ever a time that she needed such kindness, it was now. Strange that one of her fellow students would not only know how to comfort her, but be willing to stroke the head of a stranger... Another had brushed against her head. Then another. What was going on? She opened her eyes and blinked the tears away, only to find a disembodied head passing in front of her face!

"What the-!" the brown-haired girl exclaimed, slapping the hand away from her head. This was no offering of comfort. Nor were the tears raining down or the wave washing over her figments of her emotional trauma. This was real! Her eyes were puffy and red, but they opened incredibly wide as she scanned the room about her. The ceiling had sprouted a shower head, and everyone's hair- including hers- was being lathered with soap. She swatted at another hand, utterly baffled by the situation. Was this what happened in magical detention? They make you take a shower?

I know that I stink for breaking the rules, but this is ridiculous... Yet the look on the professor's face told a different story. He seemed flustered and full of panic. Whatever was happening right now, it was not a normal Hogwarts detention. It was certainly not something he had planned.

"Did you girls plan this out! Get the swords out of my desk!"

Plan this out? What was the professor talking about? Of course they hadn't planned for this! And sure, these hands were annoying, but did they really need swords to- "Oh crap!" A massive snake shot out of the water at Annabelle's feet, casing her to stumble backwards. She crawled back across the room on her hands, scrambling for ideas. Those swords were a good place to start, but the professor's desk was on the other side of the room. Her Hogwarts robes were thoroughly soaked now, and she could feel the weight of them dragging her down into the rising water.

Annabelle cast off her robes and lunged toward the desk. Underneath she wore only a tank top and shorts- much easier to maneuver in. She rolled a bit clumsily to dodge another snake attack and grabbed hold of one of the weapons. She then clambered atop the desk, above the water level. Brandishing the sword as well as she could, the young Gryffindor glared at the snake-monsters. She had no clue what they were, why they were here, or what in the world was happening, but it was clear that she and her fellow students were in danger. She had to do something. She had to protect them from... from...

"Our fears?" the red-haired girl suggested. Of course! That was why Lear had screamed at her. He had wanted her to stop writing! There was something odd about those red quills... So somebody here was afraid of snakes. That made sense. And the other was afraid of drowning perhaps? And... showers? That one seemed a little more obscure, but maybe it was reasonable. Yet she was forced to pause at the next question.

"What did you write about? Please don't say clowns, that would be terrible timing."

"Not clowns," she assured the girl. Yet inside she was feeling far from secure. Depending on the context, her little poem could be entirely benign. Or it could be the worst of the three. Annabelle had written that being trapped in here, being in detention, played into her greatest fear. If whatever magic behind this horrible scene took that at face value, it may have dismissed her fears as already taken care of. Of course, Annabelle feared the worst. Even her optimistic brain was having a hard time putting a silver lining o this water-snake-shaped cloud. Annabelle's worst fear was letting people down. What if that meant failing to protect them? What if they died because she was too scared?

Annabelle shook her head. The thought was more than she could bare. Instead she turned to the snakes, Prof. Lear's sword glinting in her shaky hands. She jumped from one floating desk to another, finding her way to the brown-eyed Hufflepuff. "She's right," Anna told her new companion, indicating toward the red-haired student. "We should head for the window." As she spoke, another snake lunged toward them. Anna sliced off its head, but it simply melted back into the water. What were these things? Some sort of illusion. If that was the case, perhaps they weren't so scary after all...

The idea gave her a sudden boost in courage. She leaped forward onto a desk in the center of the room, holding her sword like she was in a video game. It was a rather dramatic pose, but Annabelle's eyes burned with sincerity. "You leave them alone!" she demanded.

The snakes paused for a moment, their eyes locked on the young Gryffindor. Then three of them rushed in from different corners of the room, shifting and melding together into one massive serpent. At this horrific sight her courage began to weaken. Then the snake opened its mouth... and spoke.



I'm not useless... Annabelle gripped the sword a bit tighter.



The snake lashed out its tail, sending the weapon flying from Anna's hands. She stood now in the center of the room, entirely helpless. Though she had only recently picked up the sword, it had given her a sense of security that had just been cruelly stripped away. The serpent coiled its way around Annabelle, lifting her several feet above the water. She struggled against its iron grip, but to no avail.



It hissed, further breaking Annabelle's spirits.



Annabelle's eyes glazed over. She wasn't a threat... there was nothing she could do... Her fellow students were going to die, and it was all her fault that she couldn't save them. They were all going to fail because of her fears. She looked down at the others, pleading and hoping that they would find a way to survive. As for Anna herself... well, it would be better if they left her here to die. The creature's words echoed in her mind. She was useless after all... useless... useless...

No! This can't be the way it ends!

Ami tried to accuse HIM of causing this. This was her fault! Well, their fault. Fears are normally simple, ghosts, spiders, or mundane like public speaking; things he could kill or encourage them to overcome. How does one overcome a shower (in a PG way folks)? The snakes, they were not too bad, kill a few. There is a difference between understanding risk and having a paralyzing fear. 

Time with Solomon is a gift -- he was setting them free. Just now, he wished his gift was better penmanship.

Ami would retrieve a sword from the desk. She was not a sword-fu master, although what kid is at 11 or 12? Not Ami and not with a strength of 1 at least. Ami would ask about the windows, good question there were windows here and perhaps they could off-set the rapidly rising water. The shower-head was pouring hot/cold/tepid water on them. The choppy waters had a layer of frothy suds on top that seemed to grow as the waters agitated.

How does one defeat a shower?

A hotel or foreign shower at that?

Mysterious disembodied hands spiked Solomon's hair, making him look like a geriatric punk rocker. Solomon let out a guttural war cry as he reached into the waters and wrapped his hands around a particularly large water snake. He went under the water, the snake would snap at his leg and miss by only a hair. Meanwhile Annabelle also acquired a sword, banishing it like an 80's video-game sprite.

The shower water would turn ice cold then scalding hot. 

Nobody's fear was the 1980's Nintendo Mario, so there was no sound effects with each leaping bound. The truly greatest disappointment of this adventure.The snakes were numerous, like a bowl of exceptionally angry spaghetti. Annabelle would behead a snake, its jaws would continue to snap its jaws as its' head was separated from the rest of its body.  

Then the girl stared off into space. She was looking at a swarm of snakes as if they were talking to her. Solomon of course not seeing or realizing exactly how her fear had manifested. He simply saw the little girl fling her blade into the water and with a less than satisfying *plunk* it broke the water's surface and sunk to the floor.

"GIRL, what are you doing!" Solomon bellowed, she just threw away a perfectly good offense, maybe even defense. 

A snake flung itself at Solomon, he picked up a water-logged chair and used it like a shield. "Neah!" He cried as he backed up a step and the snake rammed its face into the bottom of the seat. 

"Just... uh... be less afraid of the things you're..." he blocked another danger noodle. "Afraid of! GAH!" He spun the chair and the legs caught the body of the snake and he flung it off to the side. "Kill a few snakes... and the rest will wither," he explained. 

He had no idea what to do with the shower. Her fear of showers was utterly illogical, sadly the sud level kept on rising, the water might have been waist high but the bubbles reached his beard. They would be over the girl's heads if they were still standing in the water.  That was a problem, he was still standing in the water, he was having a hard time seeing the viscous water-monsters. One had decided to strike, it bit Solomon in the backside. He let out a yelp, thanking Merlin that they were probably not poisonous. Probably. OK, maybe it was. 

He reached back and yanked the monster from his precious derriere. The bubbles behind him turned red. He was feeling a bit woozy, "dang it!" There was no way he was going to let anyone suck out his wound. He would climb on top of a chair and then a desk, his chair-shield still in hand.  

Swords, it turned out, were heavy. Very heavy, the type of heavy that made her feel like she was lifting weights that were too heavy for her.

Weak.

Her face morphing into a mask of determination, she hefted up the sword in her hands, looking around for something to hack it at. The Gryffindor girl, her sword was gone and she was surrounded by snakes, looking absolutely terrified. Wait, her fear hadn't been snakes... so then what was her fear? Well, suffice to say, Lear wasn't exactly boosting their morales, as he sat around yelling at Annabelle for throwing her sword into the water and yelling, in general, to go murder some snakes.

Well, that seemed like fun. Just another average day at Hogwarts with Lear, right?

Were the snakes poisonous? Were they magical snakes? If she touched one, would she die? So many questions, such little time... she would have to figure it out as she went along, then. "Die, scumbags!" she screamed, charging at a random snake, sword trailing along after her. Swinging it at the closest snake, Ami completely missed (swords were hard, okay?), the sword slipping out of her hands and impaling itself in the wall. 

Holy crap, that wasn't something that she had wanted to happen. "Sorry!" she called to Lear, and lunged forward, grabbing the snake by the neck. Before she could think too much about it, she whispered a quiet, "Sorry," and snapped its neck, dropping it back into the water.

Never again. Nope. That just made her feel icky all over, was one enough? Maybe Annabelle would be able to deal with the rest on her own. Time to deal with her... um, shower fear. Grabbing a chair that was floating by, Ami hefted it onto the desk, which seemed to be held fast against the water. She probably would only have one chance to do this, and she wasn't going to waste it. Grabbing another sword out of Lear's desk, considering he seemed to have an abundance of them, she set it on the desk so it wouldn't get swept away like Annabelle's sword. Struggling, she somehow managed to maneuver the chair on top of the desk, and hesitantly, she climbed to the top of her makeshift structure, precariously balancing on the seat of the chair.

 Now or never. Grabbing the sword, Ami took a deep breath, and leapt into the air as high as she possible could. The chair went tumbling off of the desk, and Ami extended her sword arms as high as it could possibly go.

It was clear, now, what her intention was- to disable one of the shower heads on the ceiling. The tip of the sword scratched along the shower head, knocking it loose... but to celebrate too early would be a mistake, because as Ami crashed onto the desk, banging several limbs of her body, the loosened shower head only made things worse, water flooding down in greater amounts than before.

Frick, that went terribly. "Window!" Ami screamed, lunging towards the window. "Open the widow!"

Annabelle struggled once more to free herself from the illusionary coils. Lear was screaming at her, demanding to know what it is she was doing? Isn't it obvious!?! She was trying to break free! She was desperately trying to rejoin the battle, to protect her fellow students against the hideous creatures... and failing. Failing miserably. It was no wonder the professor was so disappointed with her. Anna tried her hardest to block out the sickening voice that seemed to echo in her skull. The snake rose to face her, staring her down as if it wanted to consume her soul.

Indeed, that was what it seemed to be doing. It's eyes were solid black, yet they seemed to swirl and pull her in. It was a gaze halfway between hypnotizing and petrifying. And it's words...such horrid words... yet she could not drown them out.



Annabelle nodded. It would be easier... She felt the snake wrap itself tighter around her. Any tighter and her ribs would crack. Still, it felt strangely comforting- like a cold hug.



That was true. Annabelle had tried to help, and look where it had gotten her. Besides, wasn't this where it always got her? More often than not, her attempts to "help" winded up landing her in trouble. Now here she was again, dangling helpless as the water climbed higher. It reached her waist, then her neck... Anna let the water rise over her face, not even bothering to close her eyes. This was easier. This was all she could do.


Another voice interrupted the spells demeaning speech. This voice was rough but jolly, a voice she knew quite well. Her best friend from back in the Muggle word... Jason Stone. So what if I do? She found herself replying. What did he know? He wasn't even a Wizard. Heck, he wasn't even here! Just a figment of her imagination as her brain made it's last ditch attempts at keeping her alive. Well, nice try brain. Annabelle Wolfe didn't deserve to be alive



There won't be a next time, Jason. Annabelle was exasperated. Why couldn't she just give in. Why did she keep pushing herself in the form of this conversation with her old friend. It didn't even make any sense. The two of them lived in separate world now... she could never even tell him about magic. Sure she'd see him on vacations, but nothing would be the same. Anna had always promised to be Jason's best friend through thick and thin, but she would inevitably let him down. She let everyone down. Just go away...



Suddenly, something shifted within the terrified Gryffindor. She remembered the night Jason had told her that. The two of them had been mere eight-year-olds, playing wilderness explorers in his backyard. Jason had been scared of the dark, but Annabelle had believed in him. She had told him there was nothing to be afraid of. Now, in a way, he was returning the favor. Pictures flashed before Annabelle's eyes- perhaps she was suffocating under the water. She saw herself playing with her friends back home, laughing under a brilliant sunset. She saw the Hogwarts Library where she and her wizard friends went to talk and study. She saw the faces of Ami and Evelyn, even Professor Lear... not friends yet, but they could be.

"You're right." Annabelle spoke aloud, bubbles of air flowing from her mouth. She stared directly into the eyes of the creature. "I'm weak. I'm worthless on my own."

The snake paused a moment. This girl... this tiny, awkward witch was speaking back to it. She seemed to agreeing, as she very well should, but something was off. In spite of her words, the girl's tone was defiant. She glared into the eyes of the snake as though it was she who was really in control. Then the brown-haired student spoke once more.

"Here's the thing though. I'm not on my own." Annabelle grinned an almost scary and wolfish grin, matching her name perfectly. The images of all of the people who counted on her flooded her mind. These people would be terribly sad and disappointed to find out that she had died. She was not about to let them down. "I've got my friends. And because of them, I'm stronger than you'll ever realize. You don't even stand a chance."

The snake screeched a horrible screech, then vanished into a puff of smoke. The illusion was broken. Of course, this also meant that Annabelle would be dragged sharply to the realization that she was drowning. Panicked, she swan to the surface. The Gryffindor coughed and spluttered, noting that her head was only a few feet from the ceiling now. And where were the others? Ami was at the window, trying to pry it open. Good plan. Lear was fending off snakes with a water-logged chair. As for Anna herself- it was time she got off her ass and did something.

Annabelle dove, swimming toward the floor until she had retrieved her weapon. She held it now with far more confidence than before. This time she was not relying on the sharp piece of steel. This time she drew from a much greater power. Anna slashed at creature after creature, taking almost too much pleasure in watching their heads fall to the ground. These snakes would not scare her anymore. Her strokes were wild and overdramatic, as if the young girl were simply copying what she'd seen in movies and games (which she mostly was). But they the job done. Ami could open the window, Anna could kill the snakes, and Lear could hopefully call off whatever the hell he had done to them... even if not, Annabelle would make absolutely certain that everyone got out alive. She could protect them.