It would have been an absolutely lovely day – had it not been for the chaos that reigned at Hogwarts on that particular Friday. I swear I had nothing to do with it!

It was Friday thirteenth, the black day. I’m not overly superstitious – I would say I’m not at all superstitious, but Mum claims something different – but whatever happened that day made me rethink my beliefs… or something like that.

Anyway, like I said, the day started in a lovely manner. It wasn’t the usual wake-up call with Peeves floating through the dorm and blowing raspberries down at us; rather, it was a warm ray of sunlight tickling my cheek that woke me. I glanced out of the window and found the landscape dashing. I traipsed over to my friend Jo, woke her, and together, the two of us enjoyed the spectacular view we had from our tower window.

However, way too soon, our dorm comrades reminded us of the necessity of going down to breakfast so as not to miss the start of classes.

Breakfast in the Great Hall was fine, normal. The owls swept down, delivering the post. Grandma had sent me another package of sweets; while I stroked the tawny owl’s feathers, I glanced around, wondering for the umpteenth time how I could have got so lucky as to be a witch.

That feeling quickly changed when Jo and I shuffled towards Potions, down in the dungeons. I swear, the scowl Professor Snape wears darkens every day. His face will soon be as black as his cloak.

‘Today,’ the professor began, as soon as everyone was seated quietly at their desks, ‘we will be brewing a draught that requires your special attention. One drop too much of the bundimun secretion, and you’ll clean out not only your cauldrons, but much more.’ His warning tone made me fear for the outcome of this lesson. I’m not the best potioneer there is, I have to admit, though I’m not the worst, either. However, the way Professor Snape glared at each of us didn’t promise a pleasurable experience for anyone.

To my surprise, Jo and my potion came out fine. Well, fine in our definition. When Professor Snape went through the class, checking on our progress, he wrinkled his nose in distaste as he passed us, snapping at us and asking if we were able to read. That confused us, but before we could give the professor an answer or ask him to explain what he meant, he had already continued. I had the feeling, however, that we wouldn’t receive top marks for the potion.

The worst happened, though, when Dennis added a pinch of some yellowish powder while his seat neighbour – Marc, I think his name was – was still stirring anticlockwise. There was some sizzling, then bubbling, then total silence – before the entire cauldron exploded with such a magnitude that my ears rang. People started screaming and raced for the door. Over the noise, I heard Professor Snape shout at Dennis and Marc for not being able to read and follow clearly given instructions.

Well, the entire ‘mess’ wasn’t really a mess. Jo and I had been one of the last to make a beeline for the door; we witnessed Professor Snape taking out his wand and cleaning off the failed potion of our classmates. The cauldron still even looked useable again.

Since Jo had much more talent than I in calming down the nerves of Marc and Dennis, I left the talking to her and simply followed the three up to Transfiguration once the lesson was over. Thank Godric – it hadn’t been a double class of Potion. That always ruined my Tuesday noon.

Professor McGonagall was her usual lovely self – meaning, she curtly gave us instructions on what to do and then left us to practise transfiguring our mice into tea cups and back again. Jo had managed the charm in the previous lesson already, so she opted to refine her wand movement before helping me manage the charm; my cups still squeaked, horrified, whenever someone came too close with hot water.

Anyway, I lifted my wand, moved it like Professor McGonagall had shown us, then spoke the spell, but nothing happened. I blinked, confused. I repeated everything, careful to pronounce the spell correctly, but again, nothing happened. I shook out the hand that held my wand to loosen the muscles so as to not cramp – believe me, cramps in your wand arm are no fun thing to deal with – then tried for the third time. And, like the other two tries beforehand, nothing happened. My mouse remained a mouse sniffling around on my desk.

Confused, I turned to Jo.

She looked back at me, wearing an expression that must have been similar to mine, if not an exact replica.

‘What’s happening to us?’ I whispered.

Jo shrugged. ‘I have no idea…’ She looked at her wand and tried to make it shoot sparks, but nothing happened. I tried the same with my wand, but without success.

Jo and I then turned around and raised our hands. Professor McGonagall quickly addressed us.

‘You see, we don’t seem to be… um, able… to do magic anymore,’ Jo explained, a little uncomfortable under the look of our Head of House.

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows. ‘What do you mean, “unable to do magic anymore�, Miss Carlson?’

Jo bit her lip, staying silent, so I came to her help. ‘See, Professor, when we try to perform the spell like you taught us, nothing happens.’ I raised my wand and demonstrated what I meant. My mouse still was a mouse, and it was still sniffling on my desk.

I had never before seen Professor McGonagall so… surprised and angry at the same time. ‘If this is a joke, Miss Donovan…’

‘I swear I’m not joking here, Professor,’ I interrupted. I admitted, it wasn’t the politest thing to do, interrupting a teacher, but hard times require different manners, I thought.

To my surprise, my classmates joined Jo and me in our… What were we doing, anyway? Complaining? No. Or were we? I mean, our magic didn’t work anymore, so surely we were complaining?

Whatever. Our classmates joined us in our argument and told Professor McGonagall that they, too, couldn’t do the spell or anything else magical. It was as if the class had been bewitched. What an irony, really…

Professor McGonagall took out her own wand in order to demonstrate that magic still worked properly, but nothing happened. She pointed her wand at the mice on Dennis and Marc’s desk, but the two mice stayed mice; no tea cups. Utterly confused, Professor McGonagall let her wand arm sink back to her side. The look on her face would have been priceless – had it not been such a grave situation.

Our Head of House asked us to remain seated while she went to fetch Professor Dumbledore. He, surely, would know what was happening? We waited for a while until both professors returned. However, the hope we had in our Headmaster having an idea of what the problem was and knowing how to fix it quickly evaporated when we saw the look on his face. He seemed as lost as Professor McGonagall. The only slightly difference was that he seemed to take it with a bit of humour.

Anyway, we were released from Transfiguration about twenty minutes early, when we ran into the Ravenclaws of our year exiting Professor Flitwick’s classroom. The looks on their faces told us something wasn’t right on their end, either. Jo and I, joined by Marc and Dennis, quickly chatted up a few of the girls and boys to learn what was wrong. Apparently, none of the charms they had tried to perform had worked. We Gryffindors shared a look, then told them about our Transfiguration class.

‘So do you think that it’s our entire year?’ Rachel, one of the Ravenclaw girls, asked.

Jo shrugged. ‘To be honest, I have no idea.’

‘Well, Professor McGonagall couldn’t do the spell, either,’ I said.

‘Right,’ Jo mumbled, as Marc and Dennis nodded.

We pondered – and came up empty. The Ravenclaws then left for their tower. ‘Let’s go back to the common room,’ Marc suggested, looking after our retreating classmates. ‘I’m hungry, anyway. We can get rid of our school bags and see if we find the way into the kitchen.’

Jo and I looked at the boys. ‘That’s scandalous!’ I exclaimed. ‘We can’t just go and sneak into the kitchen!’

‘Why not?’ Dennis inquired.

‘Just because?’ Jo shot back and rolled her eyes. ‘It’s a principle thing. Didn’t you know?’

The boys shared a look. ‘I think you two are trying to not let us go because you want to find the kitchen for yourself,’ Marc declared after a moment; Dennis helpfully added, ‘He’s right, girls.’ Jo and I rolled our eyes at them, then stalked off towards the common room.

But there was no way to get in.

Oh, the Fat Lady was still in her portrait. She should ask us for the password, then open up the hidden entrance to Gryffindor Tower… right? But it didn’t happen; the Fat Lady seemed to be sleeping. That wasn’t the first time I’d witnessed a portrait falling asleep in its duty of guarding the common room entrance, but usually, when something like that happened, it was easy to wake the portrait up. So we called for the Fat Lady – but she never replied. She simply kept sitting in her chair and not looking at us or noticing us in any way. That was when I noticed that none of the portraits along the walls had been moving like usual.

I pointed my discovery out to Jo; together, we went back a bit to investigate. For the first time in my life, I really hoped that my eyes had been playing tricks on me. But, as soon as we stood in front of the portraits, my eyes were proven right. None of the portraits moved. They were all just that: portraits.

‘It’s getting really scary,’ Jo whispered, when we sauntered back to the Fat Lady. ‘First, we can’t do magic anymore, and now none of the portraits are alive?’ She glanced up at the Fat Lady. ‘What do you think happened, Isobel?’

I sighed. ‘I have no idea, to be honest.’ I, too, looked around and saw Dennis and Marc had come up as well, probably to follow through with their idea of getting rid of their bags and then go raid the kitchen, provided they found it. But they would simply find themselves in front of a closed door.

The boys, however – bragging with their manly strength – opted to force the portrait to move. They simply grabbed the frame and pulled. There was a little crunching to be heard, but it sounded more like the wall readying itself to collapse upon us than the portrait moving to open the entrance to the common room. That was why Jo and I hurried to bring more distance between us and the Fat Lady as the boys broke their backs to get the portrait to move.

I had no idea how, but in the end, they succeeded in opening the common room. Now the question was: Who would stay behind to be the lookout so that no one from the other houses could enter Gryffindor’s common room? Jo and I, of course, thought that the ones who had opened the door should also guard it. The boys, however, found that to be an unfair division of responsibility and argued that we girls should stay behind and play watchdogs. A heated discussion broke loose. I left my defence to Jo; she was by far the one who could spar with words more effectively.

Before the vocal fight turned into one using fists, a fourth year came running along. It was Dennis’ brother, Colin.

‘The headmaster wants everyone in the Great Hall,’ he said, panting from the hurry to get up to the Tower. He nodded to the common room. ‘Anyone in there?’

We shrugged collectively. ‘No idea,’ Marc replied. ‘We… just got here and couldn’t check,’ he lied, not turning red. I shared a look with Jo.

Whilst Colin went to see if any more Gryffindors in the common room or dorms needed to be alerted, the four of us went down to the Great Hall. Nearly everyone else was already gathered there, so we quickly sat down at the Gryffindor table and waited for Professor Dumbledore to speak.

He did start, eventually – as soon as Colin had slipped in among another few students from the other houses who had probably been sent out to check on anyone who may have been missing.

‘Everyone, please; may I have your attention?’ The chatter subsided completely, and silence settled on the Great Hall. ‘Thank you. Well, as you’ve probably noticed, magic doesn’t seem to… work anymore. No one is able to cast a single spell. But don’t panic! The staff and I are working on resolving the situation. In the meantime, I ask the Head of Houses to go to the common rooms and try to find an entrance so that everyone can go back to their dorms. Since we have no idea how long it will take until we have the magic back, we at least want to ensure we’re comfortable, right?’ A few people laughed, and Professor Dumbledore winked. ‘So, if you would all leave now in good order… that would be excellent.’ He clapped his hands, setting chairs scratching over the stony floor.

Professor McGonagall could call herself lucky; she didn’t have to do anything anymore to open the portrait to the common room Gryffindor Tower. However, she was tremendously surprised to see the entrance open already.

Once she calmed down a bit, she looked at us students. ‘Who opened the portrait hole?’ she asked, in her usual stern voice.

Jo and I shared a look before craning our heads in Dennis and Marc’s direction. We found them relatively close to us, but neither of them looked too happy to expose their doings in this matter. Well, earlier or later it would come out anyway, but Jo and I were – silently – agreeing to not divulge the information ourselves.

After a couple of moments in which no one has spoken, Professor McGonagall sighed. ‘Well, go on in then. And remember, just because the magic doesn’t work anymore, it doesn’t mean that the rules are no longer in place. Try to behave and not make too much noise. Classes are cancelled until further notice.’ She threw a look at the open portrait hole. ‘I’m going to close the entrance and ask you all to stay inside for the time being.’

And that was that.

Living as Muggles in Hogwarts was weird. Thankfully, a few Muggle-borns had board games with them, so we could entertain ourselves once our homework was done. Also, double-thankfully, water was still running, so we would be able to shower and brush our teeth before going to bed.

Triple-thankfully, we didn’t need to live as Muggles for all that long.

Professor McGonagall returned shortly before dinner to tell us that the magic had returned. Still a bit doubtful about that information, a few took out their wands and tried various spells, summoning a vase or banning a pillow or something. Our Head of House had been right; the magic was back, and everyone was screaming with excitement as Professor McGonagall tried to explain what had happened.

Remember the explosion of Marc’s cauldron in Potions? Well, it had been the shockwave from the explosion that had wiped out the magic within Hogwarts for a few hours. Professor Snape had given both Marc and Dennis detention, and both learned their lesson to, next time, read the instructions more carefully. No one wanted another exploded cleaning draught to wipe out Hogwarts’ magic for half a day.

The good thing was, nothing really bad happened to me.

That is, until I walked under Filch’s ladder; he had apparently been wiping off some grime from one of the portraits in the hallway. Of course, with my luck, and what with it being Friday thirteenth, I got the bucket of ice cold water right on my head.

Ugh!