Every single year without fail, a small group of first years disappear from Hogwarts within the first week of school. For the last ten years, no one has been able to discover where they disappear to. Once they're gone, they never return. Every year...
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❝ I didn't poison them.❞
── •✧• ──
"Are you nervous?" Was the first thing Hermione asked her on the way down to breakfast. If anything, Vienna should have been the one asking that. The curly haired Gryffindor was unusually quiet today.
"I'm good." Vienna responded Simply. "Are you? You being uncharacteristically quiet."
Hermione gasped in mock offence. "Are you saying I never shut up."
Vienna rolled her eyes. "I prefer it when you talk. It takes my mind off things."
Hermione nodded in understand and it was as if the quiet morning hadn't happened. She went back to rambling about things only she would ever understand, spitting knowledge and facts left and right. Truth be told, anxiety was eating away at Vienna from the inside like a parasite. She'd doubt if she could even keep a singular pancake down today without vomiting up before first lesson.
As she walked into the great hall behind Hermione, she locked eyes with Vicky. She maintained eye contact for a moment before tearing her eyes away, moving them to look at her brother who was designing something at his spot at the table. She frowned as she got closer, recognising it to be a bedsheet.
"Cardan? What are you doing?"
Cardan raised a finger, finishing stroking his paintbrush. "Just a second." He said. He out the paintbrush down and leaned back, squinting his eyes to admire his creation. With a smirk, he grabbed the left top corner of the bedsheet and told Fred to grab the other. Together, they held it up for Vienna and Hermione to see.
Rage bubbled in Vienna. Her stomach churned and she clenched her fist tightly, feeling her fingernails digging raw holes in her skin. Don't swing at him, don't swing at him. DON'T swing at him.
On the bedsheet, in lazy calligraphy, was a painted phrase. MAY THE ODDS BE IN YOUR FAVOUR, FIRST YEARS.
"Cardan." She hissed. "Get rid of this right now."
"Why?" Shrugged her older brother. "This is meant to be words of comfort. With the odds in your favour, you won't get taken! Simple! Hah!"
She shook her head in anger, feeling the burning emotion sizzle through her veins like a deadly poison. She clenched her fist even tighter as she stood up, not paying attention to Hermione who jumped when she noticed the blood leaking from Vienna's palms.
Every glass on the Gryffindor table shattered. The plates, the goblets, even glasses of people who wore them. A shard of glass splintered off and flew at Cardan's face, nicking his forehead. His skin opened, and a light stream of blood began to drip down. He cringed at the sensation and immediately reached for a handkerchief to wipe the thick liquid away. He stared at Vienna with shock in his eyes, as did everyone in the hall.
