I finally got into my studies and didn't notice how fast time Halloween came. I wondered if there would be a troll or not? During breakfast, I glanced over at the teacher's desk. Quirrell looked the same as usual.
Name: Quirinus Quirrell.
Status: Two for one.
Class: Dark Mage
Level: ?
I didn't know why, but everyone around me was convinced that Quirrell was weak. I didn't dispute that the possessed man had built a reputation for being a bumbling, stuttering fool, but he was making misses. Considering that I was watching him, I noticed it. Also, we mustn't forget the fact that I hadn't seen his Level. Charity Burbage, the new Muggle Studies teacher, had a Level 32. I supposed I could see Levels in people who didn't exceed mine by 15. I'd never encountered Sybill Trelawney yet, it would be interesting to look at her.
- I hope you're not in love with him. - Morris distracted me from my thoughts.
- Who? - I didn't understand.
- Quirrell!
- What? - I stared at him. - Are you okay?
- You shouldn't stare so hard at a teacher, Tail, - Herbert said admonishingly, - It could cause ridiculous rumors.
- So far the only nonsense about me has come out of Morris's mouth, - I remarked.
- Why me? - my cousin was indignant.
- Who do I owe my stupid House nickname to? - I countered.
Seriously, I'd been called Tail by every slytherin except my classmates.
- She's right, Mor, - Flint patted him on the shoulder, - you talk too much.
- Again, - Morris rolled his eyes, - why do you always take her side?
- Because I'm cute, - I said seriously.
All three of us snorted.
Ron got right Wingardium Leviosa by the end of class. Hermione didn't even correct him. He just watched the others do it, looked in his textbook, scratched his head, understood the process, and his feather soared up along with the others.
After Charms, Flitwick asked Hermione and me to linger.
- It's been a long time since I've seen someone learn spells so quickly, - the little professor said, - I suggest you join the Charms Club I lead on Thursdays.
Hermione and I looked at each other and nodded enthusiastically.
Two months had given me time to look around me and make conclusions. Magic aside, Hogwarts wasn't much different from any other school. At least in the fact that there was also an unspoken social hierarchy. At the top of the social pyramid were the cool Quidditch players, some prefects, and some influential upperclassmen. I suspected that at the very top was Claudia Metcalfe. Then there were the simpler guys, the less generic, the less intelligent and all that, the cheerful middlings. And last were muggleborns, weak wizards and quiet ones. It was just like a normal school.
While we were freshmen, this division didn't really apply to us. But conclusions could already be drawn. Harry Potter was Harry Potter and there was no way he could fall below the elite. Draco was the leader of the first year. That story about the helicopter had paid off. With my prompting, my crafty cousin built bridges with all the Houses and gained universal respect among the freshmen. The politician was growing. It was not so easy with me. Reputation did not work in my favor. Students mostly shunned me. However, my interactions with Potter and Malfoy were slowly rectifying the situation, as was the fact that I had a trio of fifth-years standing behind me. Neville from canon was at rock bottom, that was obvious. But our Neville was completely different. Calm, judicious, perhaps a little insecure, but still a potentially strong wizard. If things kept going this way, he would be at the top. Ron had every chance of ending up at the bottom, but had clung on to the opportunity to be friends with the heirs of the famous Houses, so he was equated if not with Potter, then with Malfoy. Hermione was also supposed to be at the bottom, but her friendship with us and her talent and intellect elevated her above the rest of the muggleborns. So there we had it. In the school hierarchy, it also mattered which club student belonged to. Rowling only had Quidditch and Gobstones. In fact, there were plenty of hobby clubs at Hogwarts, and they all were advertised to the first-years, trying to lure them in.
Flint did Quidditch and Care of Magical Creatures. Morris took Ancient Runes and Numerology. Burke went to Charms club. According to his own words, he used to go to Numerology too, but he was appointed prefect and time became scarce.
The Charms Club was considered prestigious. It didn't take just anyone. Hermione and I were in a good mood. I'd even forgotten about the troll.
- Only pumpkin, - Draco grumbled, - pumpkin soup, pumpkin pie, pumpkin cookies. How do you eat that?
- Relax, - I said, taking a bite out of the pie.
I was sitting with the fifth-years, and Draco was sitting with me, too. Even Morris, who hated Malfoy, had come to terms with Malfoy's presence. I gave him a pitying look, he agreed to tolerate my second cousin during meals. The rest of the slytherins didn't care, as long as I didn't drag the gryffs to our table.
- But that's an abomination! - he exclaimed.
- While you're being naughty, thousands of children are starving, - I said sternly.
Draco shut up and took up his spoon obediently. He was generally very sensitive to the reminder that I'd been living in a muggle orphanage, as if he was the one who had overlooked me. I ate well at the orphanage, by the way, and I still had my indiscriminate eating habits from the other world. My mother had no time for my and my brother's caprices. If we didn't eat anything, we stayed hungry. A couple of these riots and everything turned out to be edible.
- Wow, you are good at training! It only works on Malfoy, or can you do that to anyone?
- It's not training! - Draco was indignant.
- Only with people I know, - I answered at the same time.
Flint opened his mouth to say something as...
- TROLL! THERE'S A TROLL IN THE DUNGEON! - Quirrell screamed as he burst into the Great Hall.
I almost cursed. Panic broke out all around me. Gryffindors screamed. Ravenclaws jumped to their feet, hufflepuffs kept up with them. Slytherins remained silent and stared at Burke, waiting for a command.
- Now that's training, - I whispered to Flint, - and I've got nothing.
Burke's face was clearly marked by endless fatigue and boundless doom.
- Stay here, - he ordered, rising.
Snape was just about to leave the hall when Herbert intercepted him and began to talk something. Snape glanced at our table and nodded at Burke.
- If there really is a troll, and it's in the dungeons, we should not go there, - he announced the decision at our table. We all nodded in agreement. Burke went to Metcalfe, who also nodded at his words. Right, the Hufflepuff living room is downstairs. It's not safe for them to come down, either.
The Ravenclaw students, commanded by "Neurotic" Hilliard and Penelope Crystal, civilized themselves and exited the Great Hall.
Percy Weasley was still at war with his House. There were some troublemakers. Burke, standing off to the side, couldn't stand it and walked over to them:
- Weasley, don't you know the evacuation formation?
- Evacuation formation? - Weasley blinked.
- I'm the only one who seems to have read that manual, - Herbert rolled his eyes, - Line up. Sixth year, then fifth, then third, first, second, fourth, and seventh.
Weasley nodded dumbfoundedly. With that clue, things were looking up.
- I hope you're not in love with him? - I asked with a wicked grin when Herbert returned to us.
- Who? - Burke asked.
- Weasley!
Flint, Morris, and Malfoy laughed. Herbert's eyes widened.
- WHAT?!
- You shouldn't rush to the aid of our natural enemies like that, Berty, - I said feelingly, - It could cause ridiculous rumors.
- Now someone's going to get troubles, - Burke warned, staring up at the ceiling, - I just calm down a little so I don't accidentally kill you.
The guys were still laughing. I couldn't stand it and started laughing too. Burke shook his head in frustration.
The troll was fished out on the second floor. We and hufflepuffs sat in the Great Hall for almost an hour until the professors came and informed us. Where the troll had come from, how it had gotten past the castle's protective spells, and what it was doing here was still under question.
My birthday was approaching. The guys started sending me away and whispering. I pretended not to understand anything. The Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match was scheduled for the second Saturday in November. The weather was bad, and only my respect for Flint kept me in the stands. Potter and Granger went, just to see what Quidditch was all about. Ron and Draco had almost had a fight the day before. Neville and I only sighed.
Potter wasn't a seeker in this world, so the game went on as normal. Slytherin won. Ours rejoiced, and all I wanted to do was get some hot tea or cocoa as soon as possible. I was actually not a sports-indifferent person, but Quidditch... That's right Potter says, it's a stupid game, not like hockey. I should have congratulated Flint and I could have been free.
- Did you see that, Tail?! - a joyful Flint tossed me into the air.
- Congratulations! - I choked on the air, - You played great!
- Oh, yeah! - Marcus exclaimed, - The next game against Ravenclaw is going to be hot!
- I look forward to it, - I muttered, - Let me go!
Flint let me go, and he was immediately surrounded by slytherins. I stepped aside and bumped into Potter.
- Hey, - he nodded, - Ours are upset, we want to go to Hagrid's place. Are you coming with us?
I didn't go there anymore after the story with Jimbo. I honestly thought about it.
- Tail! - Burke came up to us, - We're going to celebrate! You're coming with us!
- Alas, - I told Potter.
He nodded and left.
- Let's go, - Herbert pulled me along.
My birthday was celebrated in the same office. Potter and Weasley gave me candy, arguing that they couldn't surprise me anyway. Neville gave me a beautiful metal inkpot with multicolored ink, which was enchanted to be spill-proof. Draco gave me a gold brooch in the shape of a flower, which was apparently from the same set as the bracelet I'd gotten this morning from the Malfoys. Granger, on the other hand, surprised me:
- You said you wanted to play it, - she handed me the bundle, embarrassed.
- And we definitely will, - I decided, staring at Dungeon and Dragons in amazement.
We were almost done with cake when Hermione suddenly exclaimed:
- By the way, why don't we ask Ada?
- Ask me what? - I tensed.
- Who is Nicholas Flamel, - Potter shrugged.
How I managed to keep the cup in my hands, I didn't know myself.
- Why do you want to know? - I inquired as nonchalantly as possible.
- Hagrid let it slip, - said Potter, - the day of the Quidditch match. He was still crying about that Cerberus thing. And he said it was because of Nicholas Flamel. So we're wondering, who is it?
Draco's incredulous gaze crossed over to my doomed one.
- You really don't know? - Malfoy asked them.
- Do you know? - Ron perked up.
- He's the most famous alchemist in the world, - Draco said, - the only one in the world who could create the Philosopher's Stone!
Hermione gasped:
- Exactly! How did I... I told you the name was familiar to me...
Hermione's scream was interrupted by Ron:
- This is it. We have the Philosopher's Stone hidden in our school. And Snape wants to steal it.
At this point Draco and I couldn't take it anymore and laughed.
- The Philosopher's Stone? - Draco covered his face with his hands, his shoulders trembling.
- Snape wants to steal it? - I laughed heartily.
- Don't you believe us? - Weasley jumped to his feet.
- Sit down, Weasley, - Draco said with a laugh, - we can't have the Philosopher's Stone at school.
- Why not? - The gryffindors exclaimed together.
- No one has seen Nicholas Flamel and his wife for three hundred years, - I said, - they are hiding, and quite successfully.
- Why? - Hermione wondered.
- Flamel created a substance that can turn any metal into gold, and from which you can create the Elixir of Immortality, - Draco began to explain, - do you have any idea how many wizards decided to take the Philosopher's Stone for themselves? The Flammels are being hunted.
- Wait a minute, - Potter stopped him and turned to me, - you said three hundred years? I just realized. How old are they now?
- About seven hundred, I think, - I answered, - I don't know exactly.
- So there's no Philosopher's Stone? - Ron said in frustration.
- Dumbledore corresponded with Flamel, - said Neville suddenly. He was holding a card from a chocolate frog he'd managed to chew while we were talking.
We all stared at him, and he read it out:
- Albus Dumbledore, currently headmaster of Hogwarts School. Considered to be the greatest wizard of our time. The professor is famous for his victory over the dark wizard GrindelWald in 1945, his discovery of the twelve uses of dragon blood, and his writings on alchemy, co-authored with Nicholas Flamel.
- So there might be a Philosopher's Stone here, - Weasley cheered again.
Draco and I shook our heads.
- Believe what you want, - I snorted, - but we don't think there is and can't be a Philosopher's Stone here.
- And Snape? - Ron yelled. - You don't think he's evil?
- Yes, I do, - I agreed, - especially if you keep blowing up boilers. What makes you think he's up to anything?
- When all the professors went off to get the troll, he went into the Forbidden Corridor! - Hermione told us the great secret, - We saw it in time!
The Forbidden Corridor, by the way, remained forbidden. Had no one ever wondered why?
- He's also suspicious, - Potter added.
I thought they were smart. Draco mimicked a facepalm. I was definitely teaching him a bad lesson.
- You're right! - I waved my arms. - It says it right on the front of his face, "I'm a Dark Mage! Eating babies at night!". Would he act like that if he was up to something? Besides, he's been working here for ten years. Every year he's evaluated, qualified and all that. He's a proven man. He's an asshole, though, you can't argue with that. I'd rather pay attention to someone more defenseless looking. Professor Quirrell, for instance.
- Quirrell? - Potter squinted skeptically.
- Well, - I said, glaring at him disapprovingly. - If he's been through the interview, he must know the subject. Maybe he's just pretending to stutter and let others' guard down!
- Charity Burbage, - Draco picked up, - is the new Muggle Studies teacher. She's a pureblood wizard, after all. What would a pureblood wizard know about the muggle world? What if she's pretending to like muggles, when in fact she's a real maniac who worships You-Know-Who?
Neville, Hermione, and Ron swallowed nervously. Poor Charity was killed by Voldemort in canon. It made me feel uncomfortable.
- And then there's Sybill Trelawney, - Draco jumped to the next candidate for villain.
- Who? - the Gryffindors were surprised.
- You haven't seen her? Well, she is! The teacher of Divination. She never eats in the Great Hall, she doesn't even come down for holidays, isn't that suspicious? - Draco continued.
- It sounds like nonsense, - Harry shook his head.
- No, Harry, - Hermione turned to him, - they're right! Don't you remember? The butler is the murderer!
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. No, more like crying with laughter.
- We really didn't think of them! - Hermione jumped up and started pacing around the room.
- Why would you even think about it? - Draco asked, - Forget it! Even if the Philosopher's Stone is really hidden in here, which I doubt, what business is it of ours?
- But someone wants to steal the Philosopher's Stone! - Hermione turned to us.
- Again, what business is it of ours? - Draco asked, - We're just freshmen. We're not included in the defense system for this nonsense and we don't get paid extra for it. Why get involved?
- It's kind of... - Hermione tried to find the words, - a strange approach.
- Slytherin, - said Neville with a chuckle, - it is a totally slytherin approach.
I nodded assenting.
- I'm with Draco on this one, - I added, - but I'll give you some advice. If you do find something strange, or scary, or incomprehensible, you'd better tell the prefect. They don't wear their badges for beauty. All the more so, as it turned out in practice, the spirit of adventurism is in them.
- But they could get hurt, - Hermione said at a loss.
- You are untrained freshmen, and you couldn't get hurt, right? - I said sarcastically, - Whoever gets caught in the crosshairs of Claudia Metcalfe will get hurt, I can tell you that.
A small celebration in my honor was also held in our living room. Thanks to my interactions with the fifth-years and that letter, I was a recognizable person in the House.
- Tail! Happy Birthday!
Oh yeah. Also thanks to this. Damn nickname.
Burke and Flint ceremoniously handed me a set of writing implements with lilac-colored feathers. I looked closely at the feathers, then at the boys, then back at the feathers.
- How did you know? - I finally gave in.
- We fed Malfoy, - Burke admitted. Flint grinned.
- What did they know? - Morris looked at us in confusion.
- That lilac is my favorite color! - I exclaimed, - Thank you!
The boys laughed.
- Lilac? - I could see that Morris was upset.
What kind of a sensitive chick was he? Morris's gift was wonderful. Three very pretty hairpins. There was no lilac one, that's a fact, but they were still beautiful.
- It was the creepiest trip to Hogsmeade we've ever made, - Burke whispered to me, - three hours stuck in a store to pick out three hairpins is too much.
I chuckled.
- He's a drama queen, isn't he?
Flint, Burke, and I laughed.
- You're laughing at me, aren't you? - Morris said doomfully, - Why do you laugh at me all the time?
His pained expression made me laugh all the more. Morris, having found no other argument, simply threw a pillow at us.
There was a mountain of presents on my bed. Apparently, most had sent their presents after lunch. Mostly sweets, which I set aside, promising myself to look at the cards later, and got on with the rest.
I twirled the heaviest package around.
Dear Adara!
Happy birthday!
Irvin Foley.
Another drama queen.
In the same envelope with this note was a larger letter. Grandma Louise had written a lot wishes and added an interesting postscript:
Irwin loves you, though in his own way. Give him a chance.
I sighed. Foley's relatives needed to be dealt with and put in place. There was a two-volume book on Charms in the bundle. Morris must had written to them about my progress in the subject.
The next gift was a book, too. Aunt Ida gave me The Basics of Ancient Runes.
Then there was a letter from my great-grandfathers congratulating me and informing me that a gift was waiting for me at home. The Blacks were quite unanimous about it.
Only my grandmother broke away from her family and sent me a little key. What was that supposed to mean? There were no charms on it, and it didn't look like the key to the safe at Gringotts. I made a note to write to my grandmother and find out what the key was for.
There were only two presents left. I looked at them thoughtfully. Who else would give me a gift?
One, judging by the size, also had a book in it, but the second gift was... a small object, smaller than my palm, wrapped in a plain parchment sheet. Suspicious. Should I show it to Morris or Berty first? I put the object aside. The second roll was indeed a book. Defense Against the Dark Arts. It wasn't new, and the edges were a bit frayed. There was a note attached to the book.
Happy Birthday.
R.L.
I exhaled. Moony had shown up. Maybe he could had written to me before, but my grandmother wouldn't let the werewolf's letters reach me. So Remus cared? In canon, it was really weird that Lupin hadn't checked out for so long, and then... Remus wrote to me! Although he didn't specify that he was the one. Although it seemed like a small thing to get from Lupin, the very fact that Remus remembered me was already making me happy.
I was determined to write him back. I needed Remus. I might not have been as attached to him as I was to Sirius or Peter, but Remus was no stranger to me.
I threw a glance at the last gift. The perspicacity yielded nothing. Apparently, my level was too low to look through barriers. I cautiously took it in my hands and left the bedroom.
As I expected, Burke, Morris, and Flint were still sitting in the living room.
- What's wrong, Tail? - Flint was the first to notice me.
- Check, please, - I put the object in front of them.
- No note? - Burke immediately understood my problem, immediately pulling out his wand.
- And I have no idea who it's from, - I confirmed.
- It's definitely something enchanted, - Flint muttered, waving his wand, - I don't know many revealing spells, but it's definitely something enchanted.
Morris, too, frowned, waving his wand over the bundle.
- Flint's right, but I don't see any jinxes, - Morris concluded.
Burke shrugged his shoulders.
- Let me take a look at that, - suggested Durran Waters, a seventh-year, the one with level 29.
- Please, - I agreed.
The seventh-year was doing some manipulation for about five minutes, and finally admitted it:
- If there is some kind of curse here, I can't identify it. It's probably some sort of enchanted comb.
Morris sighed and unwrapped the parchment.
- Or a mirror, - he said, taking out a small mirror that might have fit in the palm of his hand.
I squinted.
Foe-Glass
Artifact. The rank is rare.
?
?
- It's not a mirror, - Waters and Burke said at the same time as I took the Foe-Glass in my hands and looked into it. There were shadows behind my reflection, moving in the distance.
- Why? - Flint and Morris asked together.
- The Foe-Glass, - I said.
- Someone is very concerned about your safety, - Waters told me.
- Or someone is paranoid, - I retorted.
The seventh-year only snorted.
December brought me +2 to Magic and interesting acquaintances.
I was staring intently at the shelf with the transfiguration reference books. McGonagall had assigned an essay on transformations from the living to the non-living. Hermione had already written it, and the boys intended to procrastinate until the last minute, so I found myself with Transfiguration alone in the library.
Unfortunately, I was only good at Transfiguration in practical terms, the theory was too boring and abstruse.
- Look through the Transfiguration Today issue, - a voice came from behind me, - Professor McGonagall has a positive attitude toward the use of publicity in essays.
I turned around. Cedric Diggory stayed there, leaning against the shelf, with a large book in his hands.
- Thank you, - I nodded wary. I wondered what he wanted from me?
Diggory grinned.
- I heard a rumor that you think I'm handsome, - he said suddenly. I almost choked on my breath.
- I wondered how that rumor went, considering there were only slytherins in the hallway, - I said, - but it's silly to deny it, because I do think you're handsome.
What did I know about Cedric Diggory from canon? A talented guy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was also played by a vampire. What was he really like? Was he a self-righteous cretin who decided to amuse his vanity at the expense of a freshman girl?
- At least that was honest, - Cedric said and smiled. - I think you're pretty, too.
I snorted.
- Appreciating each other's looks is the beginning of a healthy relationship, - Diggory proclaimed with a chuckle.
- At least the beginning of a good friendship, - I clarified, and we both laughed.
Diggory noisily put the book aside:
- What's your essay topic?
- Transformations from the living to the non-living, - I said in surprise.
- You definitely need Roberts, - decided Diggory, and pulled a book from the top shelf. He's good at it.
I stared at the book, "Magical Transformations," in astonishment. M. Roberts, in which there was a chapter devoted to transformation from living to non-living things.
- I'm ready to join your fan club, - I clutched the book to me, - where do I sign up?
Diggory laughed.