Now that the ferocious threat had passed, Marion could peacefully revert to being agitated and inwardly panicky. By no means was she doing well enough to hide this, however. She had gestured to the remaining students to exit the Garden and had floated out after the final one, her face a mixture of tiredness and anxiety. Not even the presence of Marcus and Ean did anything to lift her dull mood. What mattered was that the Hufflepuffs were in capable hands; those hands, unfortunately, were not hers nor will they ever be.

“Perfectly summerized by Ms. Rose and Mr. Rocker, gentlemen,’’ Marion said somberly. “Of course, your assistance in assessing things further is welcome.’’ The ghost wrung her hands then clutched at her face. “I never want to lay eyes on those vines again! Such horrid memories they dragged up.” Marion didn’t even have the energy to choke back the sob that followed. “I wish I could have been more helpful to everyone but my capabilities are extremely limited. For that reason, brave Hufflepuffs, please see to it that you consult with Professor Feirgrund for a quick checkover. If any of you feels up to it, you may escort Professor Cole to those… dreadful things.” Another sob escaped her.