Eyes in the Shadows

Olivia Middleton's POV

I'm jolted awake by a shout that could wake the dead. "Harry! Harry!" I groan, dragging my blanket over my head. "Bloody hell, Ron! Can you not talk like a normal human being? I'm seriously concerned for your vocal cords."

My voice is hoarse, and my eyes are still adjusting to the light. I'd fallen asleep on the common room couch last night, curled up with a book and a half-empty mug of cocoa. The fire's burned down to embers.

But before I can fully sit up, Ron throws himself at me in a warm, bone-cracking hug. "Merry Christmas, Liv!" he says, grinning like a kid on too much sugar.

Christmas?

Wait—Christmas.

"Oh," I blink, suddenly wide awake. "Is it really?" Harry's already sitting up nearby, hair even messier than usual. I push back my blanket and hug Ron back, still surprised. "Merry Christmas, you loud, oversized golden retriever."

"Merry Christmas, Harry," I add, nudging his knee with mine. Ron's practically vibrating. "Look! We've got presents!"

"All of us?" Harry asks, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Ron tosses him a wrapped parcel. "Yep. Yours. Mine. And this one's for Liv." It's a small box—elegant, wrapped in emerald green velvet. My breath catches. It looks like something straight out of a dream.

Inside is a ring. Rose gold. Simple. But the center glows—a diamond-cut ruby catches the firelight, deep and red and beautiful.

It's not loud or flashy. It's thoughtful. Delicate. Exactly what I'd choose for myself if I were... well, bold enough. I fumble with the envelope tucked beside it and rip it open.

Olivia,Earlier, when I was in Hogsmeade, in a jewelry shop, I saw this. And as soon as I saw the ring, your face flashed in my mind. I couldn't have found a better place for this ring than on YOUR finger. I hope you like it.Merry Christmas.~ Your secret admirer 

I stare at the note, the ring, then the note again. My heart's suddenly pounding, cheeks burning. My thoughts race.

Who? Who knew me this well? Who saw this ring and thought of me? And why does this feel like more than just a gift? I don't say anything right away. I just keep staring at the ruby, tracing the soft velvet of the box with my thumb, and wonder what it means when someone sees something beautiful—and thinks of you.

I'm stunned into silence.

The ring sparkles against the firelight, the ruby catching every flicker and glow. I gently lift it from the velvet box, my fingers trembling slightly, and slip it onto my hand.

It fits perfectly. Almost... too perfectly.

I turn my hand, letting the rose gold catch the light. It's beautiful. Simple, elegant, like it's always belonged on me. I don't know who sent it. I can't even begin to guess. My heart races, trying to match faces to the warmth I feel from such a personal gift, but none of them fit quite right.

Still, I don't take the ring off. I just stare at it, my chest fluttering in that way it does when something magical touches me—not the spell book kind of magic, but the kind you feel in your bones.

I decide to let it be. Let it sit. Let it stay.

Christmas break ends faster than I want it to. By the time Hogwarts fills up again, I'm walking the halls with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, my scarf wrapped around my neck and that ruby ring still sitting where it was meant to be.

We're holed up in the library when it clicks—the Philosopher's Stone.

Between Hermione's research, Ron's theories, and Harry's constant suspicious glances at Snape, we piece it all together. And we agree, almost too easily, that we have to ask Hagrid more. Tonight.

After curfew, we sneak down to the common room. I'm nervous, but there's something about the four of us being in this together that makes it less terrifying. We're halfway to Hagrid's hut when I feel it.

A presence. Eyes. Someone's following us.

I spin around, scanning the shadows—but nothing. Just empty corridors and the sound of our own quick footsteps. "Keep walking," I whisper. "We're being watched." We hurry the rest of the way, sticking close together.

When Harry knocks, Hagrid answers with a grunt—and the second he sees all four of us, he tries to shut the door. But we say it together, barely louder than a breath: "We know about the Philosopher's Stone."

That gets us in.

Inside, the fire's warm and the air smells like wood smoke and something vaguely burnt. Hagrid fusses, trying to distract us, but we press on. Hermione's already full of theories about Snape, and Ron's convinced he's plotting in secret.

But I stay quiet. I don't believe Snape is after it. And neither does Hagrid.

Eventually, I can't hold back anymore. "The other day," I say carefully, watching Hagrid's expression, "when you mentioned Nicholas Flamel... you looked straight at me. And then you said 'I shouldn't have said that.'"

His eyes drop.

"I know you saw me, Hagrid," I continue, softer now. "Please don't lie to me. If there's something I should know..." He sighs, big and heavy. His hands land gently on my shoulders, grounding me. "Liv... you know I love you, all four of you. But this—this isn't mine to tell. Even if it matters, it's not my place."

My heart sinks a little, but I nod. I trust him. I really do.

A sudden rattling sound snaps our attention to the fireplace. A bucket rattles off the hook, and Hagrid rushes over. He pulls something out—an egg. Ron's eyes widen. "That's a dragon egg. I think it's a Norwegian Ridgeback—my brother Charlie works with them in Romania!"

And then... it cracks.

We all freeze as a tiny, wrinkly, fire-breathing baby dragon tumbles out with a squeaky growl. Hagrid's beard immediately catches a spark, and the others flinch away. But I can't help it. I smile, step forward, and tap my finger gently to the top of the dragon's tiny scaly head.

"Norbert, huh? Aren't you the cutest little menace?" To my absolute delight, he climbs right up my arm, curling around my shoulder like he belongs there. The others laugh—soft, wide-eyed giggles filling the hut.

But then Hagrid's face drops. He stares at the window, alarm spreading across his features. I turn, and my heart skips. Malfoy. Watching us through the glass.

We barely make it two steps out of Hagrid's hut before Professor McGonagall appears, robes billowing and eyes sharp as steel.

"Nothing, I repeat, nothing, gives a student the right to walk about at night after curfew," she snaps, and I flinch at the edge in her voice. Malfoy stands smugly behind her, arms crossed, practically vibrating with joy.

My blood boils at the sight of him.

"Fifty points will be taken from your house!" she declares.

"Fifty?" we all gasp together.

"Each," she adds, and it feels like someone punched the air out of my chest.

Detention too. Of course.

Malfoy's grin falters when McGonagall includes him. "Perhaps I heard you wrong, Professor. I thought you said all five of us?" She doesn't miss a beat. "Yes, I did, Mr. Malfoy. As honorable as your intentions were, you were out of bed too."

Harry throws me a look. Ron smirks at Hermione. I just grin. Serves him right.

Filch drops us off at Hagrid's again, muttering about the "good old punishments" where students got hung by their thumbs or shackled to dungeon walls. I'm trying not to gag from the smell of his breath.

As we walk, I jab Malfoy in the side with my elbow. "If you hadn't snitched, we wouldn't be here right now." He scoffs like I'm the ridiculous one. Typical. Hagrid opens the door with a slumped posture and eyes full of grief. My smile drops.

"What's wrong, Hagrid?" I ask softly, stepping toward him. "They took Norbert," he says, voice rough. "Sent him off to Romania." I turn immediately, glaring daggers at Malfoy, who looks half-pleased. My fists clench. I'm this close to punching him.

Hermione, ever the peacekeeper, tries to soften the blow. "Isn't that nice? He'll be with his own."

"But what if he don't like Romania?" Hagrid asks, heart heavy in his words. I lay my hand gently on his forearm. "Don't worry. I'll have Ron owl his brother to check in, make sure Norbert's taken care of. I promise."

Hagrid gives me a small, grateful smile. Filch clears his throat obnoxiously. "Now you'll be serving your detention in the Dark Forest."

The words hit like ice.

"The forest?" Malfoy stammers. "I thought you were joking! We can't go in there—there are creatures in there! I heard—" A howl cuts him off. "Werewolves," he finishes in a whisper, paling.

Filch is already walking away.

The forest is colder than I expect. The trees groan in the wind like they're alive. Hagrid stops when he finds a pool of silvery goo seeping into the dirt. "What is that?" I ask. He explains it's unicorn blood—used to keep someone alive even when they're close to death. But it comes with a terrible price.

He splits us into groups.

"Ron and Hermione, with me. Malfoy, Liv, and Harry—you three go together." I shoot Harry a look. He rolls his eyes. Lucky us. "I'm taking Fang!" Malfoy insists. "Fine," Hagrid grunts. "But just so you know, he's a bloody coward."

Malfoy's face drops.

"Wait till my father hears about this! What are we, servants?" he grumbles.

We're walking through shadows and twisted roots, Malfoy beside me, Harry and Fang a little behind. I'm starting to regret not punching Draco earlier. "As I said," I mutter, "if you hadn't snitched, we wouldn't be here. Next time you see us breaking the rules, just keep your bloody mouth shut. You don't know what might be important."

Malfoy goes quiet. For once. Then his voice cuts through the trees. "That's quite a nice ring you've got there, Middleton." I smirk. "Why, thank you. And yes, it is."

A pause.

"If I didn't know better, Draco" I tease, "I'd say you're scared."

"I'm not scared, Middleton. And it's Malfoy to you."

I roll my eyes.

I whistle for Fang. "Come here, boy. Good boy." The dog trots up beside me, tail wagging like I didn't just insult his owner five minutes ago.

We walk a while more. The wind picks up. And then it hits. A stabbing pain in my forearm—sharp, electric, wrong. I scream—bloody murder—and drop to my knees, clutching my arm.

"Liv! What is it?" Harry shouts, rushing over. "M-My arm—it's burning—" I choke out.

I look up to him—and then I see it. A hooded figure crouched over the body of a unicorn. Drinking its blood. My stomach turns. Harry follows my gaze and sees it too. Malfoy screams and bolts into the trees without a second thought.

I should run. Harry should run. But he doesn't leave me. He stays by my side.

The figure begins to float—glide—toward us. The closer it gets, the more my arm burns like fire under my skin. I scream again, louder, rawer. The pain blurs my vision. My eyes water.

My world tilts.

And then everything goes black.