Chapter 14

Detention

"And that's when we decided to — um — get you out of that damned place."

"You shall not insult the Hogwarts Library that way." Said Perce with great dignity, to a snickering Subash. "Also, that's pretty unfortunate, really."

Perce frowned at the other two, having heard the entire account of Subash's conversation with Susane. It took a while to sink in, the fact that an uncle of his very classmate dabbled in the Dark Arts. These drifting thoughts, of course, it would have been extremely insensitive to share in that particular situation.

It proved to be a great task to have Perce stay off topics related to magic. Like trying to straighten the tail of a dog, Subash and Roger attempted numerous times to talk about the weather, Mr. Pringle, and, careful not to touch upon Dumbledore, anything that prevented him from springing back to theory regarding magic. In doing so, they went till the extent of feeding the giant squid some grass, or even pointing out the subtly grey nature of a few strands of tail fur of a stray cat (scaring the cat away in the process). Somehow Perce deftly steered the conversation back to that of his interest.

Having failed miserably, and unable to bear his rant any further, the two allowed him, with great reluctance, to return to his den on the first floor of the castle. Neither of them failed to notice his satisfied grin as he was going back, and they realised then the reason for the irritating resemblance of his speech with Luke Jefferson. Having nothing else to do, they continued strolling around the lake till late evening.

Perce realised that it didn't take as long to lose people's respect, however young, as to gain it — in this case, it was with the incident that lost Slytherin a hundred points. Gryffindors passed smirks, while Slytherins portrayed their skills at showing cold glares of the finest degree. Luke, however, only managed to spark Perce's humour, with his extremely verbose nature.

It was a few days later that Hadner found him in the common room, sitting invariably with a book.

"When's the detention?" He inquired, making himself comfortable in a nearby couch.

"This weekend," murmured Perce, flipping a page.

"Hey," said Hadner, in a lower voice, moving a little closer. "Don't feel too bad. What you did was quite normal. No, no, it's fine, I understand..." He insisted. "Anyway, I'll just tell you, Dumbledore doesn't give — err — normal, boring detentions..."

With that, he gave a brief smile, and walked away. Now this aroused Perce's interest. After a few seconds, he looked up, turned around, and frowned to himself. There was a hot gush of anticipation he could feel in his chest. Presently he forced himself to return to the book.

Late evening of the following weekend saw Perce head towards the office of the Head of the Department of Transfiguration. There was, he felt, an incomprehensible tangle of emotions that he wouldn't wish to understand.

Drake Fawley was already present in Dumbledore's office, and evidently he had only just arrived, for he was seating himself in a chair laid by the professor. Noticeably he was looking away pointedly from Perce.

The room was beyond what Perce could imagine as breath-taking, powerful and cool at the same time. Objects he never believed to possibly exist in a professor's office found their place in Dumbledore's. There was a continuous hum of funny little noises. Silver instruments he had never read about stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. At one corner, however, was perched a handsome, fiery red bird, elegance radiating from its very pose. No object failed to grasp Perce's interest.

Dumbledore himself was standing by his table. There was a small smile on his face, a knowing smile. His eyes were twinkling blue. Perce was more baffled than ever.

He seemed to be talking to himself mentally. After a while, he nodded softly to the floor, receiving puzzled looks from both the students. He merely smiled.

"Follow me," he uttered.

Unsure as to any other alternative, the both ventured out of the office. Drake made no eye contact. It was a silent walk, besides the soft sound of Dumbledore's occasionally swishing cloak. The utter silence seemed to pierce the air.

The path taken seemed somehow vaguely familiar to Perce. It wasn't even a moment later that he realised where he was being led. His favourite atmosphere, the pleasant silence, and the smell of fresh parchment and old pages always called him. The Hogwarts Library. This time he arrived not with a sense of elation, but confusion — utter confusion. This reflected in the face of his classmate.

The silence intensified when they entered the library. Madam Pince, the librarian, knew Perce well, of course. She gave a brief nod and smile in the direction of Dumbledore. Perce still considered the library quite the peculiar location for a detention. His imagination had not skipped the Forbidden Forest as a possibility, and the library seemed quite anticlimactic.

He led them to a table in a secluded corner. Two parchments, with scrolls of empty parchment next to them, lay as though waiting, accompanied on each side by a feather quill and a bottle of ink.

"This entire shelf," he said softly, "is what you are required to complete in the course of these two weeks. Every evening you will spend an hour here." He said, with a curious twinkle in his eye, waving his hand at the opposite shelf filled with books.

The extremely ordinary nature of the detention brought a frown to Perce's face. Hadner, certainly, wouldn't say anything just for the face of it. He realised at the same time that that particular section of the library had not yet been visited by him. He was very curious.

"Sir," interjected Drake. Dumbledore turned his gaze to him. "May we — er — I know what we are supposed to do?"

"Oh that would be very simple. I want you both to read the books and write your understanding — your understanding only — in the rather fresh parchment. It should not be a mere copying of content, but an exercise for your capable intellect to compress information. Your understanding, you see, would definitely be simpler and shorter than a textbook." He said kindly. "Your task also is to present the given data in the simplest form possible. I will also mention that no book is required to be done by the other once one of you finishes it."

Gingerly, the two picked up a book each and proceeded to begin the Herculean task. Perce was quite disappointed, for his fertile imagination led him farther than a few floors, and certainly farther than writing. These thoughts, however, subsided as his attention landed on the subject. Magic, of course. He was absorbed into it — magic is a power that should not have ever required a medium. This, in other words, was termed...

The full hour seemed to pass in a flash. Perce observed, yet again, how absorption of the mind seemed to cause time to disappear. They were dismissed for the day.

The next two weeks took the example of the first day. Nothing changed, other than the book taken by each. Dumbledore seemed to know what he was doing, for it didn't take a minute more than two weeks to finish everything. On finishing the last day, both of them received no word from Dumbledore, but a warm smile. They were dismissed.

Two weeks, it seemed, were enough for the anger of the Slytherins to die down. That was the worth of a hundred points, understood Perce. A mere matter of two weeks. Or maybe it was the detentions. He brushed these thoughts out of his head as he got out of his bed a few fortnights later.

At breakfast he saw the familiar faces of Roger and Subash, and, to his surprise, Jake. He smiled brightly as he slapped Jake on the back.

"Hey there!" He burst out.

"Hallo, Perce." Mumbled Jake. "Dumbledore wrote to Drake's parents." He said.

"What — I don't understand —"

"The fire, and maybe about the duel."

"Oh yes, it was quite some boring news." Added Subash. Jake did not respond. Perce sat down, picking up a spoon.

"I see," he said. "Hey — um — are you doing alright?"

Jake gave a curt nod, and a small smile. "Just alright."

"Oh I forgot to tell you, Perce," added Subash, before Perce could respond to Jake. "I had a conversation recently with Donald — the second year — and he thought it was all ridiculous. I think he said the same thing a few months ago, I forgot then too. He thinks Drake just planted that letter you found." He finished, munching into his bread.

Interrupting Perce again, there was a swoosh of owls into the Great Hall. He shook his head, and raised it. Perce noticed his little owl flying closer, and wondered — both about what his friend had just said, and about what possibly he could have received.

It was a sweet little cake, neatly wrapped, that was set on the table. A short note attached said that it was made by Toby, and that Mr. Jordan couldn't resist sending some just for Perce to taste it. The first year smiled to himself, as the little piece melted on his very tongue. His friends, of course, showed no mercy. It was munched and done with in no time. A little sympathy was shown towards the owl, which was given a miniscule bit. It was a good morning, thought Perce.

"What were you saying earlier again? About Donald?"

"Oh nothing, just that he said that letter you got might've been placed there by Drake. Sounds true enough to me."

Perce nodded. It was most likely and he was stupid to not have thought of it. He brushed aside that line of thought, irritation growing in him. The entire thing was damned nonsense — and Drake was too trivial to be a wizard. Perce bit on the now cold piece of bread.

There was a sudden bustle nearby. Every single head turned towards the Slytherin table. A shrill scream was heard, and there was a volley of swears in an extremely high pitched voice, that pierced through everyone's ears. Simultaneously a fire seemed to gush out from the source of the voice. Professor Dippet stood up abruptly, and raised his wand.

A small boom was heard, the fire rose one final time and abruptly descended, leaving small crackling flames on the tablecloth. The voice stopped screaming. Drake was the nearest to the disastrous occurrence. At once, every silent and chattering student had his or her attention grasped. Everyone stared for a minute. It was a pregnant pause after the loud screams.

"A Howler! He didn't open it!" Screamed Luke Jefferson, at the top of his voice. He was prepared to go on the offensive with his vocabulary, taking a breath, but Professor Dippet intervened. The coincidence was appreciated genuinely by Gryffindors near Luke.

"Please, order, now. Get back to your meals," he said. A buzz of murmurs reconquered the Great Hall.

Drake gave a small cough, picked up his wand to clean himself — but his hands were shaking. A fourth year saved him from burning himself with his shaking wand, and he was escorted to the hospital wing. A cold glare was exchanged between Perce and Drake.

"He disgusts me by the day," muttered Subash. He didn't fail to notice that Jake had left to accompany his friend to the wing. "From his parents, probably, the Howler was." Subash added. Roger absently nodded, still gazing towards the faint smoke that still was rising.

Perce said nothing. He finished his breakfast in silence. Then, he got up to head to the library. It would be another day spent engrossed in the topic that had been steadily gaining his interest since the time of his detention with Dumbledore. His friends knew better than to try and separate him from his spot of interest.

Yet, there was something he wanted to do before that.