The stone walls of the Slytherin common room felt colder than usual as the evening progressed. Draconia sat in a high-backed chair, watching the green light from the Black Lake shimmer through the glass. A group of older boys sat near the fireplace, their voices low and urgent, but the tension in the room was not about their conversation. It was about the empty space where a person should be. The rumors had begun to circulate during the afternoon, drifting through the corridors like a bad scent. A frantic escape from the castle grounds had been whispered about since lunch, and the panic had grown with every passing hour.
"They say the guards actually saw him," Greta said, leaning forward from the sofa. Her eyes were wide, and she looked as though she had not breathed properly in several minutes. "They say he didn'క్కి the boundary and just kept running."
Draconia did not look up from her hands. She knew the girl was talking about him. The name was not spoken aloud, but the description of a messy head of hair and a frantic, uneven gait made him unmistakable. The news of the escape had traveled through the house like a contagion. If he had truly escaped the grounds, the entire social order of the school felt momentarily fragile.
"It is probably an exaggeration," Draconia said, though her heart hammered a strange rhythm against her ribs. "People love to add details when they are bored."
Pansy Parkinson sat beside her, tapping a manicured nail against the mahogany table. The sound was sharp and rhythmic in the quiet room. "It is not just a rumour, Draconia. Even the prefects look like they have seen a ghost. They are saying the Ministry was alerted because the perimeter wards reacted to his movement."
"The wards are sensitive," Draconia replied, trying to keep her voice steady.
The common room was crowded with people who were pretending to be occupied with their homework or card games, but the stillness was artificial. Every time a door opened in the corridor outside, the volume of the room spiked for a second before dropping back into a hushed, anxious murmuring. The guards had been seen patrolling the edge of the forest, their wands drawn, looking for a boy who was supposed to be caught or cornered.
"Do you think he actually made it?" Greta asked, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "If he is out there, in the dark, he could be anywhere."
"He is likely hiding in a hollow tree or a thicket," Draconia said, though she felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to go outside. "He is not a master of concealment. He is quite loud when he moves."
"The news is getting worse," Pansy said, her eyes darting toward the entrance. "Someone said he was spotted near the edge of the forest, heading toward the trees. The professors are acting like he has disappeared into thin air."
Draconia watched a group of sixth years whispering in the corner. They were looking at the door as if a ghost might walk through it at any moment. The idea of him being out in the wild, running through the tall grass and the dark shadows of the trees, made her skin prickle. She pictured him running with that heavy, uncoordinated stride, breathing hard, his clothes catching on the brambles. It was a ridiculous thing to think about, yet the thought of his escape felt more real than the empty chairs in the Great Hall.
"It is all nonsense," Draconia said, more firmly this time. "He is too clumsy to be a fugitive. He probably tripped near the gates and everyone saw him scramble back into the shadows."
"You say that, but you look like you are waiting for a signal," Pansy noted, a small, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"I am simply waiting for the silence to end," Draconia answered. "The way everyone is staring at the floor is exhausting."
The atmosphere in the Slytherin dungeon felt heavy, as if the weight of the news was physically pressing down on the rafters. The whispers were no longer just about an escape; they were about the implications of it. If he was free, it meant the control the school exerted over its students was a lie. It meant the walls were not as solid as they seemed.
"My father wrote to me," Greta said suddenly, pulling the attention of the table. "He said the Ministry is expecting a report by morning. They want to know if the breach was intentional."
"Intentional or not, it is a mess," Pansy said, turning back to her inkpot. "The whole house is talking about nothing else. It is as if the entire school has lost its mind because one boy decided to walk into the dark."
Draconia felt a flicker of irritation. She did not like the way the news was being handled, as if his disappearance was a spectacle for their entertainment. She knew him better than they knew the rumour. She knew the way he moved when he was startled, and the way he looked when he was lost. He was not a ghost, and he was not a shadow. He was a person, and he was out there, somewhere in the cold, while they sat here in the warmth of the dungeons.
"He is not a ghost," Draconia muttered, almost to herself.
"What was that?" Pansy asked, tilting her head.
"Nothing," Draconia said, standing up. The movement was abrupt, and she felt the eyes of the room settle on her for a fleeting second. "It is just a story. A long, drawn-out story that will be forgotten by tomorrow morning when someone else does something foolish."
She walked toward the small table where her things were kept. The transition from the warmth of the fire to the cooler air of the corridor felt sharp. She needed to move, to do something that was not sitting here listening to the same frantic sentences repeated by different mouths. Her hands were slightly unsteady as she reached for her bag.
"Are you going to bed?" Greta asked, watching her with an expression that was too observant for Draconia's comfort.
"I am tired of the chatter," Draconia said. "It is all nonsense."
She reached out and took her wand from the velvet-lined case. The wood felt smooth and familiar in her grip, a solid reality in a room full of half-told lies. She tucked it into her sleeve and pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders.
"It will be all over by supper tomorrow," she added, her voice louder so the entire room could hear her dismissal of the chaos. "I am going to sleep."
She told Pansy it was all nonsense and packed her wand.