"I know I've said this before, but I just can't believe how limited the information on mind magics is," Hermione huffed, her hand banging down on the table to emphasize her frustration. The noise was startling loud in the empty classroom where they studied.

Callidus, lifted his eyes from his homework to look at her, while Caiside and Ginny paused in their discussion about the merits of Poisonous Pussywillows as pet plants (with Caiside arguing that the purr of the plants was adorable, while Ginny adamantly affirmed that keeping poisonous things as pets/decorations was a horrible disaster in the making, especially if one was plagued by six too many brothers.)

"Did you know that Hogwarts has one - One! - book on mind magic - Occlumency, to be specific," Hermione ranted, "and it can only be found in the restricted section? I had Madam Pince check twice." Her head shook as if in disbelief. "Honestly! Isn't Hogwarts supposed to have the best library in all of Britain? The idea that there are books out there that I can't read -" she appeared to almost quiver at the horrid possibility. "And when I made an inquiry to the Janus Thickey ward at St Mungos, they said that their methods are kept confidential because of the potential for abuse of power."

Callidus tensed. He knew Hermione meant well, that she was trying to help, but it unsettled him, to think of the fifth years having some sort of mysterious power to abuse in the first place. Especially a power related to mind magic. Callidus was becoming very adept at meditative practices. His efforts to learn to sense magic helped to hone his self-discipline, and Callidus could clear his mind with almost the same ease as a fish could swim. But meditation was not Occlumency. And Hermione's diatribe was suggesting that it would be an immense challenge to learn Occlumency on his own.

Meditation wasn't even a fool-proof defense. Callidus still felt his skin crawl when he was near the Gryffindors. But meditation was like a dial that dimmed the intensity of his discomfort to tolerable levels. And if Callidus was preoccupied (such as during moments when he was engrossed with a book, or an interesting assignment), the presence of the Gryffindors didn't seem to trouble him at all.

But Callidus suspected that there was one thing that helped more than anything: Harry's warnings about the fifth year's plans to 'do it tonight,' whatever 'doing it' meant. Unfortunately for Callidus, this mean disrupting his sleep, and though it wasn't something he did daily, to have to do it even once a fortnight strained his mind and body. At least he got a great deal of reading done on those nights.

"Am I to guess from your tirade that you haven't learned anything?" Callidus asked.

Irritation was written all over Hermione's glare.

Callidus shrugged. "I haven't been able to learn anything either." Even in ARMED, no one had brought any books related to mind magics. The field was far too obscure, too dangerous and too well-guarded.

Hermione seemed to deflate at that.

"Who would have thought," Caiside interjected. "Two of the brightest minds unable to come up with any information."

Ginny elbowed her. "Hasn't anyone ever taught you that if you have nothing helpful to say, then you shouldn't say anything at all?"

Caiside's head tilted to the side as she looked upwards, a caricature of contemplativeness. "Yes. I believe my mum has said something of that nature a few hundred times. Right after saying something insulting about muggles or muggleborns."

Ginny snorted. "Your mum is like some sort of topsy-turvy version of my mum."

"Really?" Caiside asked. "Which parts? She seemed nice when I met her at King's Cross."

Callidus shook his head, uninterested in the inanities of the first years' conversation. He turned his attention back to Hermione. "I may be able to get a pass into the restricted section."

Hermione straightened. "You can? How?" Callidus couldn't tell if she was more excited or jealous. He suspected an even mix of both.

"Slughorn," he answered, knowing that smugness was seeping into his tone. "Since I'm doing advanced projects in potions, I often have to access materials that are not available in the main library."

Jealousy seemed to be winning the war on Hermione's emotions. "It's unfair that you would receive advanced projects in potions. For those with the aptitude, there should be advanced classes so that others might receive the benefits of advanced learning."

"Be more of a Slytherin then," Callidus advised, suddenly sympathetic. Though he preferred to keep his academic advantages a secret, Hermione was his friend. If anyone deserved it would be her. "Sluggy likes to be buttered up. Flatter him and I'm sure you can get all the advanced projects you want."

Her lips formed a thin line. "That isn't right! Advanced projects shouldn't be favours!"

"It's no different in the real world."

"How can you Slytherins be so accepting of a system that perpetuates unfairness? In fact, how can you be so willing to perpetuate unfairness yourself!"

Callidus's eyes narrowed. "And how can you be so blindly self-righteous as to assume the Gryffindor way is best? To rush forward into situations without understanding the subtleties and intricacies of the relationships, the histories and the people? To masquerade your disrespect as chivalry and virtue?"

"That's not -"

"Hey!" Caiside cut in, surveying each of them with bewilderment. "Are you two - I mean you two -" (she pointed at them for emphasis), "really doing the Gryffindor versus Slytherin thing?"

"We were not!" Hermione huffed.

Callidus scowled. "I was merely attempting to be helpful. She took offense to it."

"Helpful?" Hermione echoed. "By using methods that are little better than - than -"

"Stop!" Caiside cried. "Your squabbling is upsetting Ginny."

"I'm not upset," Ginny said.

Caiside elbowed her.

"Ouch! I mean, I'm terribly upset. I don't know how I'll sleep at night," Ginny corrected, her expression woeful.

Callidus rolled his eyes. "Your attempts at manipulation are so puerile that I'm nearly insulted."

"I wasn't trying to be manipulative," Caiside argued. "Just trying to distract you pair of flobberworms. Which was quite effective (thank you Ginny). Callidus. I know you ordinarily look like you were regurgitated by a ghost, but tell me this. When was the last time you had a decent sleep?"

Callidus scowled. "I have many pressing matters on my mind." (That and he had fifth years to avoid.)

Caiside gave him a self-satisfied smile. "And Hermione? When was the last time you had a decent sleep?"

"Well, honestly, there's just so much I have to do. How is anyone supposed to find the time -"

"Well there you go!" Caiside declared. "Bickering like a pair of - of -"

"Siblings?" Ginny supplied.

"Siblings, when all you really needed was sleep," Caiside concluded.

"I'm still insulted," Callidus growled.

Hermione sighed. "Cass is right." She shook her head. "If neither of us is sleeping well, we're not going to be thinking straight. I'm sorry for snapping, Callidus."

Callidus frowned. He still wanted to argue with Caiside. How in the world did a first year Gryffindor manage to master such a sickeningly patronizing expression? But somehow, despite claiming not to be manipulating them, Caiside had driven Callidus into a corner where he had no option but to apologize, or appear to be a callow lout.

"I apologize as well," he said stiffly.

Caiside grinned toothily. "And now, it's time to -"

"Kiss?" Ginny suggested.

"Well, I was going to say practice meditation -" Caiside said, trying to repress her laughter, while Hermione blushed hot with mortification.

"You two are insufferable," Callidus said, meaning it. He hadn't seriously ever considered kissing anyone, not when potions were so much more interesting, so he wasn't particularly embarrassed. But he it did make him question his judgement in spending time with such patently immature girls. He was disappointed that they had made no headway in the particulars of mind magic. Perhaps it would make more sense to work on his own for a while, or at least redouble his efforts in unlocking the magic-sight potion.

After a brief but intensive meditation session with Hermione, he stood and nodded his goodbyes to the girls. But as he slung his satchel over his shoulder and turned to leave, he felt a tug on his robe, and looked back with surprise. It was Hermione.

"We'll figure it out," she assured him. "No matter what, I'm going to keep looking until I find what we need."

Callidus nodded, giving her a weak smile. He didn't have the same boundless optimism as the Gryffindors. But it helped to know that he had their persistent determination on his side.

Potions lab nine used to be one of Callidus's favourite places in Hogwarts. It still was, but his recent experiences in the lab had been more frustrating and fruitless than enlightening. Was it even possible to create a potion that would make magic clearly visible? Surely it was. Surely he hadn't come against one of the impossibilities of magic. But he realized that the owl-sight spell that he was modifying wasn't even a true potion. It was more of a ritual than anything, with minor elements of potion making.

It did little to help his sense of confidence. Callidus was patient compared to the vast majority of his peers, but it wasn't the mature patience of an adult, who knew the reality of how sometimes failure was simply just an inevitability of life, and sometimes it was better to move on. Callidus couldn't move on. He was far too invested. It was, perhaps irrational, but he had been seized by the idea of somehow contributing to the solution of the Orange Madness, and now, it felt impossible to let the idea go.

Despite his frustrations, despite the agitation that shook up his nerves, Callidus moved with a steady collectedness as he set down his satchel and began to prepare his workspace. Pulling up his notes, he recorded: Variation #47, listing the alterations he planned to make to this particular batch. With a heavy sigh, he pulled out the materials he needed and began to brew.

Brewing potions was generally a pleasurable process for Callidus. The mysterious and methodical nature of the process was fascinating and rewarding, a heady mix of science and poetry. But the same couldn't be said for brewing essentially the same brew forty-six times. At this point, Callidus could almost do it with his eye closed, and in his more sardonic moments, he wondered if perhaps that was the key to the whole process after all. Wouldn't that just be a cruel little twist.

While it was true that sometimes the batches yielded interesting reactions, like dramatic colour changes or whorls of smoke, more often than not, that just meant that the owl-sight ritual had been rendered ineffective (or dangerous). Callidus's newest batch of owl-sight resulted in no flashy display, no alarming meltdowns. It was a good sign, but Callidus still eyed the brew suspiciously. The next step would be to test it on a rat before testing it on himself.

He was always meticulous about this part. Yes, it was true that he was feeling extremely keen to find a solution. Ever since students at Hogwarts started falling sick, it had felt like watching the march of a conquering army, of seeing the fall of dominos and knowing that it was only a matter of time before he would fall as well. Perhaps he would not succumb to the disease. No. Worse would be to see his friends falling around him, and knowing that he failed to stop it.

But while the need may have felt dire, while some part of him cried out for a solution before it was too late, his good habits were well-ingrained. And that meant careful testing of new solutions. He dabbed a generous amount of the liquid on the rat, and waited. After a period, he used a number of spells to measure the status of the creature, and with a hum, he determined that the rat was perfectly healthy.

It was time to test the solution. He braced himself for failure. Using an owl feather (one thing he never had to worry about suffering a shortage of), he painted the solution on his eyelids and waited. When he opened his eyes again, the lab was dizzyingly clear, with bits of dust and dirt needlessly magnified, ingredients distorted and bizarre in their clarity, and the grain of wood of the table displayed in painful detail, but that wasn't what interested him. Accustomed to not being able to see his own magic up close, he looked towards a mirror that was now a permanent fixture in his potions lab, and exhaled heavily when he saw no more than a faint transparent rippling around him.

Shaking his head, he picked up his quill and jotted a quick note about Variation #47. He would have to keep trying. Callidus was debating starting on #48 when he heard a crash and a muffled curse outside his lab. He furrowed his brows as he looked towards the closed door, distantly noting that the what appeared like a smooth surface to human eyes was filled with cracks and crevices to owl eyes.

He wasn't interested in what was going on outside the door. It was just a distraction, and Callidus didn't need a distraction, he needed a solution. But he could hear the person scrambling around, speaking to themselves, and it was making him want to tear his hair out. What was anyone doing outside the potions labs at this hour of the evening? Was it some Slytherins attempting to alleviate their boredom in the most disruptive way? Some hapless fool carrying out detention? Or something else?

Frustrated, and not even bothering to meditate to cool his temper, Callidus stormed towards the door and flung it open. He had opened his mouth to let loose a scathing harangue against the aggravating lackwit who dared to disrupt his experimentations, but the sight that greeted him caused all words to evapourate from his mind. One of his classmates had evidently tripped and scattered their belongings all across the corridor, and they were scrambling on hands and knees to gather up their possessions. But that wasn't what interested Callidus.

"Prince?" the boy on the ground squawked, eyes round as quaffles as he looked up at Callidus.

"Longbottom," Callidus snapped. Neville Longbottom flinched, and clumsily attempted to stand, which only caused him to drop the items in his hands (including a cauldron), creating a bigger ruckus. It took an effort for Callidus to not cringe.

"What do you have all over you?" Callidus demanded.

"Wh-what? I don't have anything on me!" Longbottom stammered, looking down at himself as if doubting his own words.

Callidus narrowed his eyes. It was hard to maintain the upper hand when owl-sight was so disorienting, but he was a Slytherin. And Longbottom was definitely covered in something. The other boy was practically glowing, with the way streams of whitish-yellow light seemed to radiate off him, in curving loops and spirals, as though Longbottom were the sun and was emitting spectacular solar flares.

But upon closer look, Callidus could see that Longbottom's black robes were still black, and whatever light that was shining from him was - was what? Could this possibly be magic? Could Callidus be seeing Longbottom's magic? He needed more information. Immediately.

Longbottom's frightened expression led Callidus to make a snap decision. If Longbottom was afraid, then Callidus might as well leverage that fear to get the answers he wanted. His hand lunging forward, he grabbed Longbottom by the collar of his robes.

"What are you doing here, all the way in Slytherin territory?"

He felt Longbottom tremble. "I-I'm supposed to be here! I was meeting my tutor for potions!"

Callidus paused. When it came to potions, Longbottom was one of the worst students in his year. He hadn't realized that there were tutors delusional enough to believe that they could overcome hopeless ineptitude . Must have been Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs. No Ravenclaw would have been foolish enough to waste the time or energy. Though perhaps there would be Slytherins willing to tutor him if the price was high enough. Longbottom came from an old family after all.

"And just was it that you were working on?" Callidus asked, letting his voice become silky and dangerous.

"Just what we were doing in class the other day!" Longbottom cried, his voice edging ever higher.

"Swelling solution?"

Longbottom nodded. "Yeah, I think that was it. Must've been that!"

Callidus frowned, eyeing Longbottom carefully. "Did you happen to spill it all over yourself?"

"Well, no, not this time, though I know I ordinarily do, or melt something, or cause an explosion, but I really don't mean to!" Longbottom babbled. "I tried to be extra careful, I swear! And when I finished, the instructions said to put five drops under the tongue, so I did."

Callidus blinked. "Longbottom. You're not supposed to consume swelling solution. And if, indeed, you had created swelling solution, it would be a miracle that you'd be able to breath, seeing as your tongue would have engorged to the point of blocking your airways."

Longbottom blanched. "It would have?"

"Yes. You would have suffocated quite quickly and quite horribly."

Longbottom looked like he was about to faint, if not for Callidus's tight grip on his collar.

"Is your tutor completely useless? Does he or she hold some sort of grudge against you?" Callidus wondered. He shook his head, refocusing on Longbottom. "Tell me the ingredients you put in that potion. Now!"

"I-I can't remember all of them!" Longbottom cried. "There - there was flobberworm mucus. And - erm - snail eyestalks. And some sort of pink petals. And spiny dye-murex? Or was it smooth dye-murex? And - and - something white and milky that wasn't milk. Oh, and I think some shooting stardust? I don't remember!"

"None of those ingredients make up the swelling solution. Just what instructions were you using?"

"I don't know!" Longbottom wailed.

Callidus made a snarl of frustration. "Come here." He tugged at Longbottom's collar and dragged him into his potions lab. "Stand right there, and don't even think about touching anything. Do. You. Understand?"

"Y-yes!"

Callidus made his way over to the table, to where Variation #47 of the owl-sight solution was still sitting. His hands were almost shaking as he reached for the owl feather. He needed confirmation that he wasn't the only person who was seeing the beams of light shooting around Longbottom, and the only way to find out was to have confirmation from another person with owl-sight. And what could be more convenient that Longbottom, who happened to already be here?

"Look at that mirror," Callidus ordered, pointing to the silvery object. "Tell me what you see."

"Erm -" Longbottom glanced nervously at the mirror before looking back at Callidus and returning his attention to the mirror. "I see - erm - myself. In this - erm - lab."

Callidus hummed. "Close your eyes, Longbottom."

"Why?"

Callidus's eyes thinned into slits. "You have just ingested an unknown potion. Are you really in a position to ask questions? You know that my knowledge of potions rivals that of the upper year students. Perhaps it is even more advanced. I'm not about to let you leave the dungeons without finding out more."

Longbottom's eyes bulged. "M-maybe I should go see Madam Pomfrey -"

"And what? Medical magic may be extensive, but when it comes to diagnosing the ingestion mysterious potions, your samples would inevitably be sent to a lab. A potions lab. Which this is. So. I suggest that you calm your gormless whimpering and close your eyes."

Longbottom flinched, but eventually obeyed him. Callidus sighed with relief. His grip tightened on the owl feather, and he made his way over to the other boy, painting the crimson liquid on his eyelids before the fearful Gryffindor could come to his senses and realized how inappropriate this situation was.

"C-can I open my eyes now?" Longbottom asked.

"Yes. But bear in mind that while I am trying to help you, your vision may be changed. Do not be alarmed. The effects are only temporary."

"Er - all right." Longbottom opened his eyes, and nearly tripped on himself. "Merlin! What did you do to me? Everything is so - so - weird!"

"Look in the mirror, Longbottom."

Longbottom obeyed. When his eyes settled on his reflection, he yelped. "Merlin's beard! What's all that stuff around me? What's going on? I don't see anything around you. Why is there all this weird light around me?"

Callidus felt a burst of triumph. But Longbottom looked like he was close to melting down. Worried about the other boy's mind snapping, Callidus gripped him by the shoulders, shaking him slightly. "Get a hold of yourself. I'll figure this out."

"I need to go to the infirmary!" Longbottom wailed. "I need to see Madam Pomfrey!"

Callidus pursed his lips. "That's probably a good idea. But listen to me. Are you listening?"

"I-" Longbottom's eyes were misted with tears. "Y-yeah. I'm listening."

"I'm trying to help you. What you are seeing around you is extremely unusual. Madam Pomfrey may or may not be able to help, but I'm willing to get to the bottom of this, to make sure that everything is perfectly all right."

Lips wobbling, Longbottom said: "You are?"

Callidus nodded firmly. "I am. In fact -" he paused as an idea struck him. "I'm even willing to tutor your in potions. Clearly, your current tutor is completely useless. Worse even. If you had, in fact, been making swelling solution, you would have been killed today."

Longbottom's complexion was swiftly turning green.

"You could have very well died," Callidus emphasized. "It would be in your best interest to let me tutor you."

"I - erm -" Longbottom gave him an uncertain look. "That sounds good, 'n all, but, well, what do you get out of it?"

Callidus blinked. Longbottom wasn't as much of a dullard as he appeared. "I'm intrigued by this mysterious potion you have created," Callidus admitted. "Purely on an academic level, of course. If I tutor you, this could benefit both of us."

"Oh. That makes sense. I - all right. Deal." Longbottom held out his hand to shake. Callidus looked at it for a second before shaking it, unable to believe that an answer may have just stumbled into his hands.

"Good. Excellent. Now -"

"Erm - can I go to the infirmary now?" Longbottom asked.

As much as Callidus wanted to lock him away in the lab and study him, he had no other excuses to keep him here. And, on the off chance that Longbottom had accidentally created something toxic, it seemed a prudent course of action for him to go and see Madam Pomfrey. Callidus would hate to lose this new discovery to something as inconvenient as death.

Callidus nodded. "But be sure to remember anything Pomfrey tells you, and make sure you tell me. Otherwise, I won't be able to do much to help you. I'm often in my lab on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday evenings, as well as mid-morning on Sundays, but send me a note first."

"Oh. All right." Longbottom made his way towards the door, staring at it for a long, long while. Evidently, he was still adjusting to the owl-sight potion. But when he finally found the nerve to venture out, he turned back towards Callidus.

"Erm - thanks, Prince. For - er - helping me. For a Slytherin, you're not what I expected."

Callidus only nodded in reply. He wasn't about to admit that he was as much a snake as any other Slytherin.