Ron heaved a loud sigh as he plopped down in one of the soft armchairs in the Gryffindor common room. "So, holiday's over. Time to face Snape again... And homework..."
"Well you are here to learn," Hermione told him.
Ron mumbled something incomprehensible at that, but was interrupted when Harry fell into the chair beside him with an equally glum expression. "Whoa...What happened to you, mate?"
"I've discovered that Snape's refereeing the next Quidditch match."
Hermione knew that Snape's decision was most likely for Harry's safety than his own enjoyment, but the two had managed to look so sorrowful that she almost felt sorry for them. But what could one say? When there's a confirmed mass murderer around, one could never be more careful.
"Want a chocolate frog? I've still got some left," Hermione offered. They were delicious, as she'd been told, though perhaps a little too sweet.
"Yes please," Harry and Ron, as well as all the first years in their vicinity, chorused. It was a good thing that she'd only eaten two, because by the time everyone took a frog, her box was nearly empty.
"I love these," Harry unwrapped his. They'd finished his box the day after Yule. "Oh look, I've got Merlin again." Hermione peered at it. She doubted Merlin would wear his beard at such an impractical length, as he was said to have frequently travelled by horseback. Granted, she'd never met him either. He had been recently deceased when Salazar was still an infant.
"I've got... Herpo the Foul? He's a new one," said Ron, showing them his card.
"And I've got," Hermione said, opening her own, "Salazar Slytherin, apparently." She said "apparently", because the caricature was so ridiculous that it was almost hilarious. What an awful depiction of yours truly! True, Salazar was tall and thin and had somewhat sharp features. True, Salazar liked to steeple his fingers and occasionally wore contemplative expressions. They'd gotten that much right... But really, did they have to make him look more terrifying than Herpo?
Harry was about to say something when they were interrupted by the sight of Neville bunny-hopping into the room. "Malfoy... jinxed me... said he needed practice..."
Hermione quickly removed the spell, and helped him into the chair she had previously occupied. "Did you use 'protego'?" Knowing how often the boy got targeted by bullies, she'd been teaching him the shield charm to set his mind at ease. It took a bit more power than one would usually expect from a first year, but Neville had been practicing very hard.
"I was too slow," Neville panted, though his expression brightened, "I managed to cast the spell though! I think Malfoy walked into it when he tried to follow me. Gave him a bit of surprise, that."
"Good work," Hermione smiled, offering him the last chocolate frog, "I'm sure he would be getting a face-full of his own spell if he tries it again."
"Thanks, Sally," nodded Neville gratefully. Taking a bite out of his frog, he placed the card on the table with the other three. "Here, you can keep the card. You're collecting, right?"
Harry picked it up. "Albus Dumbledore... He's the first one I've ever got -"
He suddenly stopped. Hermione watched his gobsmacked expression with growing apprehension. 'Oh surely, this wasn't where he'd found -'
"Nicolas Flamel! I think I found him! It says here that he's famous for alchemy!"
'Damn it.' He'd seen Flamel in a piece of sweet, of all places. And it wasn't all that unexpected, when she thought about it... But there was nothing to be done about it now, Hermione thought as she chased after them all the way to the library, leaving behind a very surprised Neville. Indeed, it only took them four hours to realize that the Cerberus was guarding a philosopher's stone. Four short hours, and their Gryffindor instinct for seeking trouble was back on full throttle.
"A stone that gives you as much gold as you want! Anyone would want it!" Hermione exclaimed, deliberately drawing their attention away from its other properties. If they don't connect the stone to Voldemort, there may still be a chance of dissuading them from trying to rescue it.
"Of course!" Ron agreed, "Snape would be rich! Then he wouldn't have to teach!"
"I've got to go. Don't do anything dumb and get into trouble!" Hermione slipped away as the boys began to discuss what they would do with a philosopher's stone if they had one. She would've watched them for longer, but she'd already promised to meet someone else. She just hoped her request wasn't too much to ask from two Gryffindor boys.
Ah, who was she kidding? How could she expect them to stay out of trouble when she was hardly managing it herself?
Stars, this was starting to look dire...
"Professor Snape's been in an exceptionally bad mood all week, hasn't he?" Daphne remarked.
The mood of the current Head of Slytherin House was notoriously difficult to read, Blaise thought, but the exceptionally large pile of homework on the table before them left preciously little doubts. Honestly, did the man realize that he would have to read these things? Did he even plan to read them? Or did he simply decide that he wanted more tinder for his fireplace?
"I think he's still recovering from that prank two days ago," muttered Theodore.
"Ah, I apologize on behalf of the perpetrators," Sal chuckled, "I think I know who they are."
"No kidding," Daphne looked at the rolls of half-finished, not-yet foot-long essays and sighed. "Everyone knows it's the Weasleys. I sincerely hope that next time they pull something like this, they consider the consequences first. This is not fun..."
The corner of Sal's lips twitched with amusement. Something told Blaise this wasn't the first time she'd heard the comment. "They don't do this every year, do they? I wonder why they suddenly decided that the Great Hall needed a hundred more snakes."
The three Slytherins exchanged subtle glances at this, deciding not to mention that the prank had a "part two". Nevertheless, Blaise was glad to see that his friends got along well enough to joke about this. Just last month, the incident would've been considered sensitive.
Sal kept laughing, though softly so as not to disturb the quiet of the library. "Well, we've gotten so far already. Surely the rest of it can't take too long," she said comfortingly. "How was Malfoy's party, by the way? I've heard him boast that it'll be the gossip of the month. I wonder if it, er, lived up to the expectations?"
"Well, it certainly was grand," Theodore allowed.
That was no overstatement, Blaise thought, even if Malfoy had exaggerated tremendously in his bragging. The Malfoys didn't things by halves. Upon arriving at the gates, Blaise had been greeted by two pure white peacocks, strutting along the hedge. Where Lucius Malfoy had got them from, Blaise had no idea. Then he'd unfastened his cloak (since he didn't want to wear Sal's present just yet) and gave it to one of the five house-elves, who bowed and showed him to the children's lounge while his parents went off to join the main party. Clearly the Malfoys wanted to keep the kids out of the way, so that they could entertain the people who could actually do something for them.
Blaise could only guess at how extravagant the main feast was, but the fact that even the children's area was richly decorated and had a full banquet table of delicacies such as lobster tails gave him a good idea. And throughout all this, musicians were performing outside in the gardens, under a weather-proof charm to repel the snow.
"They'd hired a whole orchestra to perform" Daphne told Sal, "Though, I'm a bit disappointed. Draco promised Theo that his father would be personally playing a Nocturne."
"And he didn't?" Sal asked.
Theodore snorted. "I only asked him that to call his bluff... I doubt Draco even knew what a Nocturne is. I'm pretty sure his father could play though. I would be impressed if he did."
Blaise nearly raised an eyebrow at this, though he pushed it down at the last second. Was Malfoy Sr.'s aptitude for music important in some way? He wished Sal would ask, because he wasn't very sure either.
Sal's eyes flickered briefly over their faces. "Excuse my ignorance, but what exactly is the significance of the Nocturne? From what I've read, a Nocturne in the magical world is music performed directly by magic, yes?"
Music... directly from magic?
"Exactly," Daphne nodded, "My mom says you're supposed to draw your magic through the air to make it sing. It sounds really beautiful, a bit like a flute, but you have to be really precise or the notes won't come out right. "
Blaise tried not to look too surprised. He didn't know magic could do that.
"You also need to carefully control the amount of magic you let out, as well as how fast you do it," Theo added, "That's why wizards traditionally play the Nocturne to show off their strength, and how well they wielded their magic. There's a direct correlation between the quality of your Nocturne and your aptitude for wordless or wandless casting, the reliability of your spellwork, and even your duelling ability. Not to mention that you also need some inspiration to play tastefully."
Well... That explained why it was such a big deal. Blaise tried to imagine what magic must've sounded like. It was still a foreign concept to him. Though, it would be nice to learn this art form if possible. It would likely be helpful.
An unsolicited name suddenly popped into his head: Knockturn Alley. He shrugged and dismissed it.
"But people don't play anymore?" Sal wondered.
"Unfortunately," Theodore nodded. "Probably because most people can't play very well. It's easier to have instruments like violins and pianos, which you could hire someone to play for you whenever you want. Only the older families remember it now. But I've read that up until the 13th century, every respectable wizard practiced the Nocturne to some degrees. I wish my father would teach me. He never seems to have the time."
"I'll see if I can find some books about it," declared Sal. Of course.
"It'll be awesome if the four of us manage to learn wandless casting," said Daphne, dreamy-eyed, "imagine that! We'll be legendary! How many people do you reckon can do it?"
"There's Dumbledore," Blaise shrugged.
"Maybe it's not actually that hard," Theo smirked, "I mean, I saw Quirrel summon a book wandlessly just yesterday."
Sal pulled a face. "I guess it makes sense. His wand is made of Alder I think, and I've read that it goes well with people who are wandless casters. No idea why the wand would prefer to get used less often. Maybe it's lazy?"
The conversation quickly drifted into a discussion on everybody's wand-buying experience and Mr. Ollivander's weird comments. It was a lovely afternoon. And to think just a month ago, all they could comfortably talk about was homework!
"Oh, no!" Daphne exclaimed, "We've completely forgotten about the essays!"
After grabbing Gregory Goyle's hand just in time to prevent him from blowing up his cauldron and the class, Severus Snape sank back down into his chair tiredly. The idiot boy... How he wished that Goyle had been sorted into another house, so that he wouldn't have to deal with complaints about the hulking bully from students and teachers alike! But instead, he just had to be Slytherin and friends with Draco Malfoy.
Severus rubbed his temples. He hadn't had a full night of sleep ever since they'd found Slytherin's book. After the students had gone off to bed, he'd stayed in the common room and read that book from cover to cover, examining it closely for signs of deceit or forgery or whatnot. Eventually, he had to conclude that it was not only genuinely authored by their esteemed founder, but also written in good faith.
'If only someone could've read this book sooner...'
If only this could've happened when he and Lily were still in school. Then, maybe things wouldn't have turned out this way. Maybe then he wouldn't have lost her...
Severus cursed himself for his distraction when a loud boom sounded in the back of the class. He immediately made his way to Seamus Finnigan's now-deformed cauldron, making sure to give Potter a good scolding as well. The boy was a spitting image of his father: same hair, same face, same popularity, same mannerism. Probably fancied himself a little hero too. Severus would give his life to ensure that Harry grows up safely and amounts to something, for Lily. Heck, he would even referee a Quidditch match for him. but he could certainly do without having to set eyes on the boy so bloody often.
Sighing, he stalked back to the relative calmness of the front of the class. While Malfoy wasn't a particularly talented potioneer, he had at least enough literacy skills and common sense not to do anything catastrophic. Avery and Nott's potion was excellent. Zabini and Greengrass's potion was fine. And Granger clearly knew exactly what she was doing, which was not something most potioneers could claim.
He hadn't expected to find someone with her talents in Gryffindor, but perhaps he shouldn't say that. Lily had been a Gryffindor and a muggleborn, after all, and she was brilliant.
If only someone could've read the book sooner. But there was no use in wishing.
There was no use in wishing, but there was still hope for the future. And now, he wished Granger and her friends luck.