unforth | Hogwarts Story: Part 18

So...sleepy. As promised, here it is typed up. Now that I'm getting more and more into parts that concern others, by the way, I thought I would make this explicitly clear: If I say something about your character that is wrong, please please please correct me. :) That is all.

Oh, and this is very long. Consider yourself warned.

After a little while, I heard footsteps approaching, and Lycia turned a corner into my view. She stared at me, examined me closely for a moment, and I wondered at her scrutiny. Then she nodded slightly. “We need you,” she said without preamble.

“Alright,” I replied, a question in my voice. If she heard it, though, Lycia still offered no explanation.

It was a short walk to where the others were. A small off shoot from the thoroughfare, all of my companions squatted in a small cave. They were surrounding a small, ugly bird which sat in a bristly nest full of things that gleamed slightly in the light. When I came in, the bird squawked.

“Offer it something shiny,” Dimitri sounded vaguely frantic.

Puzzled, I took off one of the rings I wore and proffered it in the birds direction. It examined it for a few minutes, and then snatched the ring from my hand. Routing around in it’s nest, it passed me back a conch shell from which the sound of the ocean came faintly. Behind me, Celestine groaned.

Insistent, I forced the bird to take the conch back. In return, it passed me a simple silver bracelet. “That’s mine,” Dimitri commented unhappily, taking it back.

“I’m not going to get my ring back, am I?” I asked, feeling vaguely disgruntled.

The others shifted uncomfortably, and Lethe said defensively, “it has the key, though.” He pointed to what did look like a key, tucked into a niche of the nest.

With a sigh, I removed my other ring. Excited, the bird shoved the key at me, and I took it.

“We have the key,” I glared at the bird, “but I want my rings back.” I had far too little money to lose good silver to a bird, I thought darkly.

It took several minutes of bartering before we managed to get my rings from the contrary creature. It cost Dimitri his bracelet (again) and Lycia a golden coin, though she received a rather shiny set of crafting tools, and didn’t seem unhappy with the trade. The bird, though, seemed to realize that it had not come out ahead, and upon returning my second ring it clucked at us in irritation, and flapped its wings at us. We left without troubling it further.

I worked to contain my slight feeling of fear as we approached the door. What would we find when we opened it, I wondered. I didn’t want to believe that the Headmaster had done the things he was accused of. He was a good wizard, he’d never delve into such dark arts. If he did explore necromancy, it was surely for a good reason. But he’d never have done it. The Headmaster wouldn’t do that. Inserting the key into the hole on the door, I turned it and heard the locks click, and the door creaked open.

We all gasped at lay within. Whatever we might have been expecting, it certainly wasn’t what we saw. A huge circular room, the walls were completely lined with bookshelves twenty feet high or more, and books occupied every space, every surface, except for a lone place on the wall where there was a fireplace. A large fire burned happily, shedding a warm and welcoming light throughout the room.

For sometime after that we all lost ourselves to exploring the shelves of books. I’d never seen anything so wondrous. There were books on all nature of topics, from mystical beasts to the ancient world, and everything in between. I even saw one, tucked away on a high, high shelf, that was about necromancy. None of these interested me, though. I found myself drawn by the book labeled “Potions Wondrous and Rare” and an ancient, pealing gold leaf. Pulling it down, I started to read as fast as I could, for the hour was late and I felt sure that our time here was greatly limited. This book could not leave this room, I felt, so I had best read as much of it as I could before going leaving.

All too soon my suspicions proved correct. I had just finished reading about the use of salamander blood in the creation of freezing potions and heat resistant creams when we heard footsteps echoing down the hallway we had arrived via. Simultaneously, the fireplace behind us began to creak and rumble and move, revealing a secret passage. Exchanging glances with the others, we moved quickly, abandoning our reading and entering the revealed passage, not questioning our luck at having found such a convenient escape. As the fireplace closed behind us, I caught a glimpse of the Headmaster entering the room. My relief was great, for if this were truly where he came when visiting the dungeon, then he was not conducting any necromantic experiments. There had, after all, been no equipment conducive to such activities in the library we had found. Surely, I told myself with cheery confidence, the headmaster merely hid his personal library – a wise course, for books, especially old books, were rare and valuable.

Our adventures for the night were largely concluded, for the secret passage led after some time to a door way hidden behind a painting near the great hall. After we exited it, it proved impossible to open again, and I hid my regret that my means of access to that library was cut off. Still, I reminded myself that it was the Headmaster’s, and his to hide as he would, and contented myself in remembering my duties as Prefect, leading my housemates back to the Ravenclaw common room. What mischief the Lunari’s went on to perpetrate that night are any body’s guess.

I feel I should pause here, for it occurs to me that at no point have I given any sort of physical description of myself, nor of my friends. In an effort to rectify this, I will take a few moments to correct this oversight.

I won’t pretend to any sort of modesty, for there was no denying that I was a rather attractive girl. My hair was brown, rather long, and very straight. I frequently used my wand to secure my hair into a loose bun, for I rarely used it for any form of spell casting. My eyes were brown as well, and my features over all were rather delicate. A little tall for my age, I stood a little over five and a half feet, and I was quite slim. I do not know for certain, for it is most difficult to judge ones own appearance, but I suspect I looked fairly breakable over all, like a stiff wind might damage me in some fashion. I like to think I was considerably tougher than that would suggest, though.

(OOC: Listen, I realized that I don’t know what most of you look like, damn you all. If you want me to include a physical description, you should put one up in a comment. And that way, I can find out if anyone is actually reading this, hehehehehe)

Proceeding, then, with my narrative, the next few weeks of class passed rapidly, with few happenings. The only event of note that I recall was actually rather unfortunate. A few days after our escapades in the dungeon, Maya Lunari – or perhaps it was Aya – was found turned to stone in Gryffindor common room. I could not help but wonder if this was in some fashion connected to the existence of basilisk in the dungeon, but I never did learn for certain either way.

The student body was abuzz with all sorts of gossip. Many whispered about student exploits in the dungeons, though most of what was said was wildly inaccurate. If popular accounts were to be believed, then the intrepid dungeon explorers had defeated at least a dozen basilisks, a host of zombies, any number of giants (no one could say why giants, known for their love of mountains, would frequent the dungeons) and, most fearfully and bravely of all, the groundskeeper himself. For the most part, I ignored the drivel that was being spouted.

Of far more interest to me were the rumors about the first Wizard Armed Patrol mission, which had apparently taken place the same night as our dungeon delving. Many of the accounts were just as obviously greatly sensationalized – I couldn’t credit the account that stated that three students, however competent, could have defeated an army of werewolves and returned unscathed – there seemed to be some common points that were trustworthy. Guillermo Patil, Caius Serence and Marcus Relius had left Hogwarts and apparently apparated – or flown, reports conflicted – to France. What exactly they had done there was completely incomprehensible from the student accounts that I heard, but they had definitely been attacked by something, and furthermore they had rescued at least one person, possibly many more. Indeed, one rescued individual now sat at the Hufflepuff table, a girl named Katrina LaGuar.

I disliked Katrina on sight. A former Beauxbaton student, Celestine couldn’t seem to recall her, which I found faintly upsetting, for she was indeed a memorable sort. She was stunningly, inhumanly beautiful, with flowing silver-blonde hair, a statuesque figure, and an absolutely astonishing complexion. Being around her made me feel gangling and awkward, a feeling I distinctly disliked. Moreover, any and all boys in her vicinity seemed to become incredibly stupid. Most would pause in whatever they were currently saying to simply stare at her, their mouths open slightly, and the rest would stare at her mesmerized even as they attempted to proceed with whatever they had been doing. This generally resulted in a large number of forks missing mouths and spilling food on the faces of the distracted boys. All in all, I found it infuriating, for I tended to think that boys were creatures of intelligence just as much as girls were, and it seemed incomprehensible to me that they could so take leave of their wits. Katrina, though, seemed to have no thought for the boys that gawked at her most awkwardly. Instead, she would regale anyone who would listen with the tale of her rescue. Most daringly, Caius and Guillermo had come for her, and most wonderfully they had saved her from evil most foul. However, it was not they that she eyed with a slightly predatory glance. Instead, as she would tell her story, she would speak of “noble Marcus,” who had impressed her greatly, for he had gone alone into the depths of the dungeon to rescue a group of small children who had been imprisoned there. This self-sacrifice had won him a special place in her thoughts, and she watched him frequently as he went about his duties. Listening to her tell her story again and again, I was rapidly convinced that the majority of the more ridiculous stories about the WAP mission could be traced directly to her.

Still, I had more to do over those weeks than watch Katrina LaGuar. Classes were strenuous as I slowly approached my wizarding exams. Headmaster Nigellus transferred the duties of teaching lower classmen potions to Professor Lestrange so that he could more fully devote himself to his advanced class. This proved fortuitous for me, for almost nobody was in the advanced class, and so myself and “noble” Marcus Relius, the only other student, received a great deal of personal aid and attention from the Headmaster.

I feel that, given his later importance in my narrative, I should convey something of my first impression of Marcus. I had seen him around school for my entire time at Hogwart’s without paying him much mind. My first years at Hogwarts I had something of a low opinion of Hufflepuff’s, and tended to ignore them, so I didn’t really meet him until this time. I found him, in truth to be a remarkably nice person. He was not as skilled at potions as myself, but he was good natured and almost impossible to offend. I suspect this is why he was in the Headmaster’s potions class, for the Headmaster could be abrasive at times, but Marcus took any and all abuse with a smile. I also realized for the first time that he, like I, was a pure blood, and I felt something of a kinship with him, for we were both pure blood’s outside of Slytherin, and we alone felt that Advanced Potions was a class worth taking. That said, however, I still had hardly ever even spoken to him except for when attending class. It would be some days more before I would speak to him extensively for the first time.

My other classes interested me far less. Professor Potts seemed even more disconnected from reality than usual, and herbology was an exercise of willpower for me, for she paid little attention to our activities, and I could easily have pilfered any number of valuable potion ingredients with no one the wiser. The one time I gave in to this feeling, though, I regretted it rapidly, for I was very nearly turned into a fish. This, thankfully, did a fair amount to dissuade me of my larcenous feelings.

My other classes were even less interesting, for I was not turned to a fish in any of them. Professor Lestrange taught transfigurations, which I was decent at but had no interest in. Care of Magical Creatures with Professor Ramjit Singh was especially trying, for animals seemed able to sense that I viewed them not as little living beings but as useful potion ingredients. The beasts of the world did not like this attitude, and tended to express their displeasure by biting, scratching, or otherwise abusing me. The salamander I attempted to gather ingredients from even set me on fire. Lastly, I didn’t attend automata, taught by Professor Tremens, the head of Ravenclaw house. I also took charms with the Professor, and again I did not do particularly well.

Overall, the days passed quickly, and I devoted my time to studying, organizing the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, and attending to my duties as prefect. This was, in truth, more than enough to keep any one person busy, and I occasionally wished there was another of me that could devote her time exclusively to the brewing of potions and other such leisurely activities. Business had been slow, for I had been too busy thus far to devote myself to the marketing and advertising so necessary to building sales. I thought that perhaps if I could build my stockpiles, it would help me if a rush came, but in truth even two of me wouldn’t have helped, for had no money and my supplies of ingredients were dwindling dangerously. I tried to spread the word during meal times, and hoped funds would be forthcoming soon, for quite aside from ingredients I didn’t even have all of my books for the school year yet. I was rescued, though, and spared embarrassment by Caius Serence, who purchased a love potion for the hefty sum of 5 galleons, which covered my books easily and left me with some pocket money to boot. I wondered where he got so much money from, but thought wiser of asking.

Everything changed a few weeks after class started. It was mid-September at dinner on a Friday night. There was a new face at the faculty table. Tall, with fiery red hair, a handsome older woman in long, professional looking purple robes sat beside the Headmaster. Whispers echoed through the student body about who this newcomer might be, though all talk was greeted with a glare from Headmaster Nigellus.