Struggling to survive at Hogwarts

Chapter 293 Wrong Number Communication

When the Death Eaters came to deliver the message, Thea was sitting at her desk, casually twirling the pen in her hand.

"Young master, the master requests that you go to the potion room now."

"understood."

Upon hearing Thea's reply, the Death Eaters immediately turned and left.

He was terrified that a monster would leap out of the room and kill him on the spot.

"The potion room..."

Thea murmured to herself, but her pen made a checkmark on the notebook in front of her with perfect accuracy, just like the little girl who had entered the wizarding world many years ago.

When she closed the notebook and got up to go to the potions room, if there was anyone else in the room, he would have clearly seen the strange name on the notebook: "Trapped Beast Plan".

------

Voldemort was furious.

Looking at the deep, bone-revealing wound on her wrist, which was still bleeding profusely, Thea obediently lowered her head, but in her mind she was slowly planning her next move.

From Voldemort's perspective, he had already discovered that one of the Horcruxes was missing, and it was highly likely that Dumbledore had taken it. Although Dumbledore was dead, he still left behind Potter, a contingency plan that likely knew all of Voldemort's plans for immortality!

At that moment, Voldemort's murderous intent towards Potter reached its peak.

In the distant mountains, Harry suddenly sneezed, his red nose drawing a burst of laughter from Hermione.

The perspective shifts to Riddle's old house.

As more and more blood filled the vessel, Thea began to feel dizzy, while Voldemort remained unmoved, seemingly oblivious to what was happening.

"I heard someone came to see you yesterday?"

“…It’s Gella,” Thea forced herself to concentrate. “I haven’t shown up for several days, and she’s a little worried.”

"It seems you have a good relationship with her."

"Yes, after all, we're classmates."

Upon hearing this, Voldemort paused slightly, seemingly moved for a moment by a certain word.

"A classmate? Hogwarts—"

Voldemort muttered to himself, his thoughts drifting away once more.

Blood was still flowing.

Even though the knife was coated with a potion that made it difficult for wounds to heal, the rate at which blood was flowing out was still slowly slowing down.

Seeing this scene, Thea hardened her heart and stabbed herself in the wrist again—

Thea's actions drew Voldemort's attention back, and he began to scrutinize the girl in front of him again.

She still had an expressionless face, but Voldemort clearly remembered that she used to be the one who loved to laugh the most.

"—That's fine."

It's unclear how much time passed before Voldemort finally took pity on Thea and allowed her to finish the bloodletting for the day.

Suppressing her dizziness, Thea staggered up the stairs, her steps unsteady. The stairs, which used to be just a few steps to the top, now seemed like a ladder to heaven; just looking up made her dizzy.

"hiss--"

To prevent herself from falling to her death due to a momentary lapse in vision on the stairs, Thea bit her tongue hard, and the pain temporarily cleared her mind.

Thea stumbled up the stairs, her wrist not properly treated, and only a barely effective healing spell was working.

As Thea moved, small, blood-red flowers bloomed around her.

"boom!"

With her last bit of strength, Thea slammed the door shut behind her, and the next second, she slid softly down against the door.

I thought resting would help, but the dizziness got worse, and to make matters worse, the healing spell on my hand was slowly losing its effect...

Damn!

Thea cursed under her breath, her resolve to call for help finally hardening.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Inside a classroom on the second floor of the main building of Hogwarts.

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, forcibly suppressing the inexplicable unease in his heart.

He was completely baffled. Slytherin had been temporarily stabilized by them, Headmaster Snape was nowhere to be seen all day, and the Carol siblings didn't dare to be too presumptuous in front of them...

Everything is fine, so why is he so uneasy?

Professor Binns's highly hypnotic lecturing voice had absolutely no effect on Draco.

until--

When the bracelet vibrated for the first time, Draco thought he was hallucinating.

But when it vibrated again in distress, Draco jumped up, nearly knocking over the table in front of him.

The commotion was so great that even Professor Binns couldn't help but stop lecturing and look at Draco with questioning eyes.

"...Excuse me, Professor, I may need to go to the school clinic."

Before the professor could react, Draco dashed out of the classroom like a whirlwind.

As a result, Daphne and the others couldn't sit still any longer.

They are not blind, nor are they stupid.

Draco looked so pale just now; who else but Thea could make him so nervous?

"professor--"

"professor--"

Professor Binns was getting increasingly annoyed by the students' repeated standing up, but he knew that they weren't intentionally skipping class, as evidenced by the fact that they were still choosing History of Magic in their seventh year.

"Go ahead, that kid just went towards the restroom."

Professor Binns even kindly pointed them in the right direction.

“…Thea—”

Draco's hands trembled as he pressed the communication switch, unaware that tears were already streaming down his face.

Aside from that meeting at the old house that was practically torture, Draco hadn't heard from Thea for over a year.

Like a traveler who has trekked thousands of miles through the desert and finally found an oasis of life at the end of his life, how could he not be moved to tears?

"De...Draco?"

The girl's extremely weak and confused tone hit Draco like a ton of bricks.

Before he could ask anything, Draco immediately fell silent, pressing the bracelet tightly to his ear as if afraid of missing any sound.

“Draco…”

Draco understood the resignation in those words.

“If…if I remember correctly, you should be studying…History of Magic? Professor Binns is good-natured…if it were Professor McGonagall…”

"Thea!"

Draco rarely spoke to Thea in this tone, which showed that he was also pushed to the limit.

Tell me, what happened to you?

Why is your voice so weak?

In the previous sentence, Draco was so angry that he wanted to give Thea a good scolding, but in the next sentence, Draco couldn't hide his heartache.

When the latecomers arrived, this was the scene they saw: Draco, who had long since grown into a teenager, had shed all his bravado. He was leaning against the wall, hunched over, his eyes red, holding the bracelet to his ear as if it were a priceless treasure, every word of which was a plea.

"Don't just stay silent..."

"Don't scare me—"

“I’ve been very obedient lately…”

The group tacitly surrounded Draco, at a distance that was just enough to hear the communications but also enough to keep them alert to their surroundings.

At this moment, no one would laugh at Draco's weakness, because any one of them would have done the same, without exception.

After a long while, Draco heard a sigh from the bracelet.

The silence stretched on and on, as if filled with untold regrets.

"Draco, find Professor Snape for me."

"I need him to save my life."

"Save my life."