Philomathist

"Affectus remotio" Draconia whispered, gritting her teeth and clenching her wand. Waiting, desperately, for something to happen, for something to change. The stack of books around her growing taller by the hour, with titles such as "Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed", and "A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions". She had been at it for hours, late into the night, casting counter-curse after counter-curse on herself. Feeling nothing change but her level of anguish. She hadn't showered or left the library in two days. Her hair was greasy, and the bags under her eyes were heavy. "Stupid Snape. Stupid potions. Stupid magic. Stupid Potter!" Draconia shouted, knocking over one of her stacks of dusty tomes. "Shh." Instructed a passing ghost, much to her irritation. "Stupid ghost." she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. She looked a mess, and smelled even worse. Luckily it was several hours past midnight, and the library was completely empty. She had special permission to be out of bed this late of course, from Snape. "Good luck with your research Miss Malfoid, however, I don't suspect you will find the answers you seek in the library." What did he mean by that? Something about the way he said it bothered her. What does it mean? She looked down at her notes, full of hastily scratched spells and their counter curses, references to books that referenced other books, old anecdotes, and rumors of love hexes. She pulled her hair again, and slammed her fist on the table. If Snape knew what was wrong with her, why wouldn't he tell her? Is this a test of some sort? As she thought, she absent-mindedly sketched a lightning bolt in her notes. Suddenly, she knew. Of course. It was unthinkable, but it was the only explanation. Potter used the imperius curse on her. One of the three unforgivable curses, used to control people like a puppet. Probably when she was sleeping, he snuck in and cast it on her, with a subtle enough command that it would go unnoticed. Of course! A spell that dark and that powerful wouldn't be released by simple counter-curses found in the student library. Draconia was more relieved than angry. Finally, an explanation. Now she just needed to find Potter, get him to release the curse, and tell her father. Finally, something to get that half-blooded creep expelled. She took out her silver hairbrush, ran it through her platinum hair, and sighed, ready to return to her dorm and get some much needed sleep. After returning the books to their proper home, she exited the library quietly, smiling to herself. "I'm probably the first witch in history to be relieved to discover she's under the control of the imperius curse", she mused. The castle was unnerving at night, but it was never quiet. The soft roar of the torches in the corridor, the sleepless ghosts floating around, the soft snoring of the living paintings. Though she was apprehensive, at least she wasn't alone. Alone. The word echoed in her head. She heard footsteps around the corner in front of her. They were hurried, but light. Someone trying not to be caught. Before she could think, Draconia dove into an alcove nearby, hiding next to a suit of armor who turned to look at her, seemingly confused. She held up a finger to her mouth to quiet the armor, to which it simply shrugged and returned to it's resting position. Draconia peeped around the corner and saw a Gryffindor robe and untidy black hair speed by. Harry?! What in Merlin's beard is he doing here? Is he... looking for her? He must be. She gritted her teeth in anger. That creep is up to no good. Probably sneaking around looking for more ways to torment her. Though she was exhausted beyond measure, and yearned for her bed, she decided to follow him. Harry was going somewhere she had never been before, ducking through hallways and secret doorways. Behind paintings and through dark corridors. Never once did he turn and notice her. How did this oblivious fool manage to cast such a high-level dark curse on her? Finally, after squeezing into a dark and dusty room, Harry stopped. Draconia ducked down, peeking around a dusty sheet hanging over an abandoned globe to look at him from behind. He was just standing there, staring at himself in a mirror. What? She continued watching him for minutes, waiting for him to do something, but he just... stood there. Staring at himself. Draconia couldn't hold it in anymore, and she started laughing. Harry whipped his head around, wand in hand. "Malfoid?! What are you doing here? Did you follow me?" "Honestly Potter, sneaking off to stare at yourself in the mirror? Such vanity!" "I wasn't... that's not..." Harry stammered, looking away from her shyly. "That's pathetic, even for you." Draconia giggled, her hair falling forward as she clutched her stomach. "It's no ordinary mirror, Malfoid," Harry shot back, "It... well... come take a look." "Sure", she laughed, approaching him. "And what exactly am I supposed to be seeing?" "What do you mean? Just look in the mirror." "I am, I don't see anything unusual." "It's supposed to show you your heart's greatest desire. It's called the Mirror of Erised. Dumbledore told me about it." Harry said, his face turning red. "Well it seems your mirror is broken, Potter." Draconia giggled, "Because I only see you and me."