The Hogwarts Owlery was located at the very top of the West Tower, a towering, circular stone room. Owl roosts lined the walls from the floor straight up to the ceiling. The floor was covered in a thick layer of straw, heavily mixed with owl droppings and the regurgitated remains of their prey. Just below the roofline, large, unglazed window arches left the room open to the elements.
Richie made his way up the spiral staircase, navigated a long corridor, and finally reached the room. Having been here twice already, he knew his way around and headed straight for the very back of the Owlery.
He pointed his finger, checking the roosts one by one like a general inspecting his troops.
"073, nope."
"074, nope."
"..."
"092... gotcha!"
Richie's eyes lit up, and he hurried over.
At the very bottom of that specific column of roosts, Richie found a battered registry book that smelled distinctly of owl guano. Fighting down a wave of nausea, he carefully flipped it open and scanned the records. He quickly found what he was looking for:
Roost 092. Leased by: Ethan Davent, Hufflepuff. Tawny Owl.
Richie set the ledger down, deep in thought. Ethan Davent. He vaguely recognized the name—a first-year Hufflepuff, a completely unremarkable kid. If Ethan was the one pulling these stunts... what was his motive?
Richie shook his head. Whatever the reason, he finally had a solid lead. All he had to do now was keep a close eye on the kid. The second something like this happened again, Richie could catch him dead to rights.
Just then, a figure appeared right next to him.
"Hey!"
Richie snapped out of his thoughts and turned to see Padma Patil, one of the only two first-year girls in Ravenclaw.
"Richie, what are you doing up here?" Padma asked, brushing her hair back curiously.
"Just checking on my owl," Richie replied, giving her a nod and stepping aside. "I'm done with the ledger. It's all yours if you need it."
"Oh, no, it's fine. I just came to see my owl too. Where are you heading now?" Padma didn't even glance at the ledger; her eyes stayed locked entirely on Richie.
"Um... probably heading back to the dorms," Richie said cautiously, unsure of her angle. "We've got Transfiguration this afternoon, so I need to rest up and prep."
Saying that, he started walking toward the exit.
"Me too!"
"Let's walk back together!"
Padma didn't seem to notice his guarded tone at all. She happily fell into step beside him as they headed for the door.
Richie just shrugged. They were both Ravenclaws, which meant they were walking the exact same route anyway. He couldn't exactly tell her to get lost.
They walked down the corridor and started descending the spiral staircase. Halfway down, Padma spoke up again.
"Richie, what's your favorite color?"
"Color?" Richie blinked. He had no idea where this was going, but he answered honestly. "Yellow, I guess. I mean, I have blonde hair."
"And your favorite number?"
"Uh, seven."
"I like seven too," Padma said, her hands clasped behind her back, a bright smile on her face. "Seven is a number full of spatial imagination."
"What about weather? What's your favorite weather?"
"Sunny."
"Oh. I actually prefer rainy days over sunny ones," she noted. "Sitting by the window reading while it rains... I get super focused. But sunny days are really nice too."
"Yellow, the number seven, and sunny skies. Got it."
Seeing the strange, calculated look on Padma's face, Richie frowned. What is she playing at?
Richie barely had any impression of Padma. For the entire school year, she had been a very quiet, aloof girl who hardly talked to anyone. So her suddenly striking up this bizarre conversation felt completely out of left field.
Fortunately, she dropped the weird Q&A session after that. Once they reached the Ravenclaw common room, they split off to their respective dorms.
---
Before he knew it, Saturday morning rolled around.
Bright and early, Richie grabbed the three stalks of Gillyweed and met up with Neville, Seamus, and Wendy in a secluded spot by the edge of the Black Lake.
"Finally!" Wendy stripped off her school robes and started stretching out.
Richie and Neville followed suit.
"I'm going to be the first man to conquer the Black Lake!" Neville bounced on his toes, buzzing with excitement.
Since they only had three stalks of Gillyweed and four people, someone had to stay on shore to guard their clothes and keep watch in case anyone wandered by and caught them diving. By default, Seamus—the weakest swimmer of the group—pulled guard duty.
While he was visibly bummed out, Seamus still beat his chest and promised to lock the area down.
Once they were warmed up, the three of them slowly waded into the water. It was May, and the weather had started warming up, so the lake wasn't as freezing as they had anticipated.
Richie handed out the Gillyweed and tied a safety line to both of them.
"Remember, the Gillyweed only lasts for about an hour," Richie warned one last time. "We have to strictly watch the clock. We can't talk underwater, so rely on the hand signals we practiced. If anything goes wrong, do not hesitate—surface immediately."
Neville and Wendy firmly nodded, their eyes gleaming with adrenaline.
After adjusting to the water temperature, they all popped the Gillyweed into their mouths. It looked exactly like a bundle of slimy, grayish rat tails. But to their surprise, the taste wasn't terrible—it was chewy, slightly sweet, and felt a bit like eating octopus tentacles.
The second they swallowed it, the three of them dove under.
Instantly, the skin on their necks started to spasm and stretch, tearing open into deep slits lined with dark, fluttering filaments. At the same time, thick, translucent webbing sprouted between their fingers and toes.
The entire transformation took less than thirty seconds. A moment later, they realized they were breathing completely normally underwater!
"This... blub blub blub..."
Neville excitedly opened his mouth to talk, but a massive rush of lake water immediately flooded down his throat.
Choking, he panicked and started thrashing around wildly. Richie quickly swam over and clamped a hand over Neville's mouth.
After a brief, panicked struggle, Neville realized he wasn't suffocating. He slowly stopped thrashing. It finally clicked in his brain: he had gills now. He didn't need his mouth or nose to breathe anymore.
He looked at Richie, thoroughly embarrassed, and sheepishly scratched his head.
Seeing that Neville had calmed down, Richie just shook his head in amusement, flashed a hand signal, and pointed deeper into the lake.
Wendy swam by and patted Neville on the shoulder, giving him a deeply teasing look. Remembering the big, heroic speech he had just given on the shore, Neville's face flushed beet red. Luckily, underwater, nobody could tell.
With the hiccup handled, the two of them dove deeper, following Richie into the dark water.