. . . . . . . .

They...were casting on her Slytherin. He deserved it for being an idiot, she knew it, and she would have thumped him, too. But...something was happening...inside her chest or stomach or...somewhere.

She was...feeling...stuff.

It wasn't a heart attack. She was far too young and healthy for that. No...it was not that. It was a feeling of...wanting to shield the Slytherin with her robe? Was that the feeling? She didn't know and there wasn't time to process her feelings.

Switching her gaze momentarily at the Ravenclaw blabbering at her, Beverly simply gave her an unimpressed look. So what, child? She wasn't going to risk her neck for an idiot, even if he was from her own house, even if she felt like...protecting him.

UGH. What were these feelings?

She was glad Gabe hadn't disarmed her. That would have started another fight because a witch should not be disarmed like that, at least not HER. She did shoot him a grateful nod for it. No more casting on her Slytherin...

...Who was on the floor and...crying? She wasn't good with tears. GROAN. Gripping her wand tight and keeping her gaze on the 'Claws, she crouched next to her housemate.

"See what happens when you don't think straight?" she hissed. They were going to have a word later, yes. "I'm going to free you but if you try anything stupid again..." She'll let him finish that with his imagination. Taking hold of his arm, not too tight but firm enough to hold him back if he dared do something else, Beverly cast, "Finite."

And if he did try something he wouldn't be worrying about the Ravenclaws. She wasn't going to risk more points loss.