When that thing transforms, a pang of betrayal and loss socks Viola hard in the stomach. She audibly moans as the vines shatter and grow in unequal measures, sucking Pouch into its mass. This had all been a carefully laid trap—what she'd always feared is clear to her now—but how many steps back? Were these weeds what she had been speaking to through the spirit board? The computers? Via candy and butterfly weeds? CARDe-B? Had this been the thing that walked through their patronus practice way back in January? How long has this writhing mass of vines been manipulating her? Is Lionel Qualls even still with them on this earth at all?

Viola isn't ready to consider that the real Lionel Qualls and this abomination before her could possibly be one and the same. Hot, embarrassed tears rim her eyes as she scrambles to action, taking her classmate Lionel by the elbow with one hand to help him to his feet. With the other, she points her wand at the base of the vines and cries, "Glacius!" Again and again.