Certain Dark Things || Book Two

xxv. serpent charmer

Cold morning air cut into Harriet's lungs and she savored the burn, holding it in, until she let it go with a hard, shuddering exhale.

Her sneakers hit the ground under her with steady thumps, the earth unyielding, chilled, compacted by a thousand years of a thousand feet following the same trail along the edge of the Black Lake. Cliffs overshadow part of the path, the natural divots and shelves bearing evidence of forgotten parties thrown by the upper years, initials and hearts carved deep into the rocks. Ahead, the Forbidden Forest crawled up from the shore, and the path loped away from the water into the trees, skirting the deeper woods, passing the far Gagwilde Tower on its final curve to the North Gate.

Harriet paused below the cliffs to study the hundreds of names left behind from previous generations. The low waves lapped at the sand, and the sound echoed here, sparse sunlight reflecting upward from the water, casting incongruous lines on the rocks. Behind her, Harriet could hear Hermione and Elara trying to keep pace.

"You wouldn't have to do anything else," Elara told Hermione, words choppy and breathless. "You would only have to mix the potion. I've already gathered the dew, the moth, and will have the leaf soon."

"You need more than that," Hermione retorted, flipping her frizzy hair. "What about a place to store it, hmm? What if someone tampers with it? Or it gets disturbed? It's very finicky, according to the books."

"I've a safe box with a Stabilizing Charm on it prepared."

"Did you get that out of your precious journal too?"

"Yes, actually."

"What are you two arguing about?" Harriet asked as the pair drew level with her, and both immediately slowed their speed, red in the face, breath escaping in sharp bursts. All three witches wore shorts, high socks, and their school sweaters, though Hermione had managed to smuggle in a Muggle track jacket with a zipper somehow. They'd only been jogging for ten minutes or so, and already felt winded at best and outright exhausted at worst.

"Elara—." Hermione began, balancing one fist on her hip. "Wants me to make her an Animagus Potion."

"Animagus? Like Professor McGonagall?"

"Yes, exactly like Professor McGonagall."

Harriet wrinkled her nose in thought, knocking sediment from her sneakers. They weren't due to cover Animagi for quite some time, but Harriet had skimmed ahead, thinking it'd be awesome to change into an animal—until she read how devilishly difficult the whole process was. "Isn't that illegal?"

"Technically," Elara managed before Hermione could, scowling at the bushy-haired witch. "Just as that Horned Serpent you keep under your bed is technically illegal, too."

"I was just asking, Merlin. Leave Livi be."

"It isn't illegal to try," Elara continued, some of the tension leaving her brow. "There is nothing written in the school bylaws or Ministry edicts that prohibits trying; only success."

Harriet snorted. "Seriously?"

"Yes. I've checked."

"Just because it isn't illegal doesn't mean you should do it," Hermione insisted, both hands on her hips now, a lecture looming like a storm cloud in the distance. "Amateur Animagi transformations are incredibly dangerous—especially given your age!"

"At Uagadou, they learn when they're fourteen or so. A year is not a large difference, and there's no guarantee I could even attempt a transformation until next year, anyway."

"It doesn't matter! In 1962, Gail Patt attempted the transformation for her Transfiguration N.E.W.T extracurricular project and wound up getting stuck as a canary! A canary! They couldn't ever change her back, because she lost her humanity! The conversion between human and animal psyche is temperamental!"