𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑃𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑀𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟 | 𝑁𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑏𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑜𝑚

Chapter 10 - The Boring Club

Harry and Neville either looked completely amused or incredulous. "What happened?" Neville asked, mouth quirked up in a--yes, that was it--an amused smile. He was clearly amused by the sight of a breathless Helena.

Helena realized she must look absolutely wild then, and attempted to recompose herself, smoothing her hair back away from her face and clearing her throat. She stood back up to full height.

"I overheard him speaking with Professor McGonagall," she explained. Then, imitating Argus Filch's voice, she said, "'Poking around on the grounds. Today I caught Longbottom snooping around the corridor where the Room of Requirement's supposed to be'--and so on."

A laugh bubbled out of Harry's chest then. "Yep, that's exactly what Filch sounds like."

"Killer impression, Hels," Neville joined.

Helena's cheeks warmed. "Aren't you guys concerned at all?"

Harry shrugged, much more nonchalant than he had been before. "As long as he doesn't catch us, we'll be alright, I think."

Helena was astounded, to say the least. Hadn't he warned them just earlier of Filch? Sputtering, she asked, "Well, then what if Professor McGonagall does?"

Harry paled now, the reaction she had been semi-hoping for. "Let's not think about that, yeah? Now, Neville and I were just about to head off to bed. You'll likely do well to think of doing the same--it's getting late."

Helena swallowed and relaxed a bit--Harry's reaction had proved to her that perhaps Filch was no figure to fear anymore. As she'd heard in the hallway, he didn't seem to hold much power with the teachers, after all. "Alright," she tried to sound casual; despite her calming down a bit, her heart was still racing from the encounter.

"Would you like for one of us to walk you?" Neville offered as he and Harry began to approach the door. Behind them, the once-roaring fire began to dim to coals, signifying their leaving.

"Wha--no, no, that's alright," Helena beamed, as she dismissed his generosity; she appreciated it, she really did, but: "I can handle myself, you know."

Neville shrugged. "I figured as much."

Awkwardly, the three of them filed out of the Room of Requirement, one by one, slowly so as to avoid causing a sudden cluster in the hallway. By the time it was Helena's turn to exit, she found herself along on the other side of the door, Neville and Harry already peeled off toward their own chambers. Tucking the book away in her robes, she started her way toward her own, deep in thought--if Harry wasn't concerned about Filch, then what was the purpose of all the sneaking around? Then again, she realized, it may not have been Filch he was scared of all along, but rather the hawkish presence of Professor McGonagall. For that, Helena could not blame him at all. If she hadn't made it evident already, McGonagall scared the daylights out of her.

"Professor Borington, what are you doing roaming the halls? It's late, and it is not your place in the rotation to monitor."

Helena froze. It had been like a bad jinx, thinking about McGonagall. Trying to wipe the anxiety and--perhaps it was fear?--off of her face, she turned slowly on her heel, much more aware of the presence of the library book pressing against her ribcage.

Professor McGonagall looked awfully stern. Filch had likely made her irritable--not good at all. She quirked a wiry eyebrow features almost bird-like in the torchlight.

"S-sorry Professor," Helena stammered out, feeling silly, as if she were still a child. "Just. . . just had to do some research. In the library," she quickly added.