Dandelions

A BIT OF HEALTHY PETRIFICATION IS GOOD FOR THE SOUL!

The silence that filled Hogwarts was unnatural.

Nothing felt like home anymore, and the coldness that followed each student in the corridors dominated the warm spring air that attempted to thaw the fear that permeated throughout the castle. Flowers bloomed and birds sang, but in Rory's mind it was still the cold of winter.

Students were to never be alone, and if possible escorted by a member of staff. It was rare that Rory was able to find peace outside his common room, and even then he still felt on edge. No one was laughing anymore, no one was joking at any time...Even the twins found it hard to make their jokes land during a time like this.

Sometimes, he'd be able to forget that everything was happening. Sometimes, George's hand would be warm enough to leave his chest fluttering, and sometimes they'd kiss in the dark hallways and he wouldn't even begin to think about what could be hiding in the shadows.

It was a few weeks later, after the hushed rumors about Harry being the heir to Slytherin had died down, that he sat in the Great Hall numbly spreading butter on his scone. The chatter of the hall was loud, but seemed dull in comparison to the brightness of a Welcome Feast. Dark clouds that threatened to rain hung just above the floating candles, and the four fireplaces roared in an attempt to keep the cold of early spring at bay.

Fred was muttering something about how Oliver was going to lose his mind if McGonagall did end up cancelling the last few matches of quidditch due to the rising threat of what lurked in the shadows, and Rory couldn't help but roll his eyes at the accuracy of it. Even when death, or, well, petrification, leered around corners, of course all Wood cared about was a stupid broom sport.

At the beginning of tonight's dinner, McGonagall had made a hopeful report that the restorative draught seemed to be reaching the potency needed to cure the petrified students, and Rory mulled it over as he slowly chewed his dinner. They'd been saying that for months, he grumbled, for the whole semester practically.

"Hey," George whispered, "The scone's not that bad, I'm sure."

"Mm," Rory grunted, putting it down. "What if this thing never goes away?"

"Well," he sighed, "No one's gotten petrified in a few days. Maybe it has gone on."

In Between the ignorant noise of the Great Hall, and Draco mouthing off in the corner about mudbloods again, Rory was just about sick of pretending everything was okay. He thought back to his first few years at Hogwarts, the warmth and the happiness. Nothing ever seemed to go wrong at first, especially when he had such good friends to lean on. And now, here they were, under constant threat from something they couldn't see and couldn't defend themselves against.

George seemed to pick up on the fact that Rory's mood only continued to darken, and a warm hand placed itself on his thigh to soften its thumping, Rory hadn't noticed. His leg bounced a little less once he felt George's hand, a heat dusting his cheeks as he turned to look the other way down the table.

He missed the sight of Filch sprinting down the middle of the Great Hall once more, knees kicking up high as they did when there was a troll in the dungeon. He lent over the professors' table, and Rory's eyebrows knitted together as McGonagall slowly stood up from her Headmistress' seat with a stony look on her face. Rory began to put his scone down in confusion as McGonagall approached the podium, announcing a dismissal as she waved her hand at the prefects.

"All students, to your dormitories at once. Head students, begin emergency rounds."

She repeated herself a few times, the announcement being lost to the noise quickly. Rory's head snapped the other way as he felt George grip his upper arm, face looking serious as he turned to lead the two of them back to Gryffindor tower.