Lying in his bed later at night, Anthony remembered his homework instructions from Professor Vector. He lay quietly, trying to think of something simple to ask. But the questions circling inside his head were too big and too vague: Was You-Know-Who behind the disappearances? How much power did he have and how dangerous was he? He decided to try the first one, since it was the most pressing to him at the moment. He closed his eyes and softly tapped out a pattern, forming the question in his mind over and over. Scattered images entered his mind: a snake rearing to strike, a wand raised towards a crib, a flash of green light. Crabbe and Goyle's faces, shrouded in black hoods that nearly concealed them.
Anthony tried again with a different question.
"What will I be when I grow up?" he asked himself, drumming again.
Coins clicked in front of him, sounding a pattern that was echoed by a drum beat, which became the drumming of his fingers on his blanket.
Sighing, he rolled over and resigned himself to sleep, where he dreamed of himself and his friends on stage.
The next morning, Bertram called Mac over to their table.
"I've had an idea," he said excitedly. "I've been working on some lyrics, just simple ones. With your guitar, Mac, and your drumming skills Anthony, I think we should start a band!"
"That's odd," said Anthony. "I just had the strangest sense of deja vu. And I dreamed last night we were in a band."
"So it's meant to be!" said Bertram. "Well? What do you think?"
"Let me see those lyrics," said Anthony as Bertram handed them over. "Hey, these are pretty good!"
"We would need a place to practice," said Mac.
"What about that room behind the mirror?" said Anthony. "James said we could use it any time."
"I'm in!" said Mac. "We'll have to think of a name."
"We'll think of a name later," said Anthony. "I think we should focus on getting good first. And I don't even have a drum kit, I'll have to save up for one."
"This is going to be great!" said Bertram. "First practice tomorrow?"
"I can't wait!" said Mac.
"I guess I can always drum on the chairs," said Anthony.
"Brilliant!" said Bertram.
Later that day, Anthony described his efforts to Professor Vector. "They were just random images," he was saying. "I can't make sense of any of them."
"Black hoods…" muttered Professor Vector, almost to herself. "Interesting. Don't fret, Anthony, it's normal to see vague images at first. You'll get better with practice," said Professor Vector. "I have no doubt that the meanings will reveal themselves in time. Until then, continue clearing your mind and concentrating hard on your question while you tap the patterns. Try an easy one, like where did you leave your Arithmancy textbook?"
Anthony smiled in spite of himself. "All right, Professor," he said. "I'll try."
That night Anthony took Professor Vector's advice and focused on the question of drums. He tapped out a rhythm with his fingers and thought, "What can I use for drums tomorrow?" As he thought, the image of a suit of armor swam in front of him. "Armor?" he thought. "I can't possibly use a suit of armor! How will I get it through the mirror?"
Thinking on this question, he fell into a dreamless sleep.
Classes were more interesting than usual the next day as Peeves the poltergeist was in an especially destructive mood. There was a rumor that the newest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had tried to exorcise him in one of his classes but whatever the reason, he had decided to wreak havoc however he could. Not even the threat of the Bloody Baron, who was generally the only one who could control Peeves, could stop him for long. All day long, Anthony and his classmates were distracted by the sounds of crashing, clattering, and clanging. The teachers had largely given up teaching and resigned themselves to letting the students practice what they had already learned. After a particularly alarming sound near the fourth floor, Anthony's Charms teacher threw up his hands and dismissed them early. As this was Anthony's final class of the day, he used his free time to head over to the secret passage on the fourth floor. But then he saw something odd. A broken suit of armor lay in pieces near the stairwell. It looked as if it might have been dropped from a balcony. As Anthony looked through the pieces, he saw several flat pieces that made a sharp sound when struck. He tested the breastplate, which made a satisfying boom. After a quick check in the mirror to ensure no one was coming and enduring a cheerful comment suggesting he needed more exercise, Anthony dragged the pieces of armor into the chamber behind the mirror. He fetched a pair of sturdy sticks from the woods near the passage and set up his makeshift drums. Anthony dimly remembered his vision from the night before, but it was quickly forgotten as the patterns and rhythms he created echoed pleasantly around the room. He was just beginning to practice a riff from "2112" when Bertram and Mac entered with his guitar.
Mac whistled. "Look at that setup!" he said. "Not bad. And it doesn't sound half bad, either."
Mac tried a chord on his guitar, tuned it, then tried again. He grimaced.
"I guess that's why they call it practice," said Bertram. Mac punched him in answer and played another chord, which sounded less sour this time.
They played around with riffs and rhythms, Bertram yelling some lyrics he knew, and sounding less and less like Peeves' antics as the afternoon went on. Eventually they broke apart, breathing hard and smiling.
"Not bad," Anthony said with a grin. "Although I think we know who the true talent is."
"Obviously me," said Mac, laughing.
"Think James would mind if we left some stuff here?" asked Bertram. "A guitar is one thing, but we'd look pretty conspicuous if we carried a drum kit down the hall."
"I'm sure it's fine," said Anthony, looking at the fresh butterbeer bottles and candy wrappers that had taken up residence since the last time they had seen it.
They walked out of the mirror after a cautious peek and walked toward the Hufflepuff common room.
In the middle of the corridor, they found Regulus loudly talking with some of his Slytherin friends. Crabbe and Goyle were nearby, listening to every word. "Of course we're safe, we're purebloods," Regulus was saying. "You-Know-Who has some good ideas if you think about them. How can we hold onto our magic with mudbloods tainting everything? It's all going to disappear unless we do something." His friends, Crabbe, and Goyle nodded emphatically. One of the Slytherins sidled away, unnoticed by Regulus. "He's looking for people to join up and help keep the peace," he said. "Some of the Mudbloods are protesting and getting violent. Since we're more powerful, it's up to us to make sure they don't hurt anyone."
"This is starting to get serious," Anthony said. "But what can we do?"
Bertram shook his head. "I wish I knew," he said. They walked towards the Hufflepuff common room in silence, each lost in his own thoughts.
"Stop!" said a familiar voice in front of them. They had reached the portrait of Sir Cadogan already. "Who goes there, friend or foe?" he questioned.
"A friend," Mac said.
"Anyone else hungry?" asked Anthony.
"Starving!" said Bertram. "Grab a hand pie for me while you're there, will you?" asked Mac.
"Sure thing," said Anthony, heading to the still life portrait of fruit. He tickled the pear and was met with a group of house elves, all eager to give him whatever he wanted. When he entered the common room, Mac had set up his record player with a new single.
"They're from America," he was explaining, "but they're popular with Muggles here, too, they did a tour here last year. Shh, this is a good part."
"Time is truly wastin', there's no guarantee, yeah
Smile is in the makin', we got to fight the powers that be
I don't understand it, people wanna say, yeah
Those that got the answers, red tape in the way"
"Are they a wizard group?" asked a Hufflepuff girl. "It sounds like they're talking about You-Know-Who!"
"You do not need to be a wizard to feel the fear in the air," said Xenophilius sagely. "They notice their friends and neighbors going missing, even if they don't know why."
A chill went down Anthony's spine. "Do you know anything else that's happening?" he asked Xeno. "My parents won't tell me anything."
Xenophilius looked around and dropped his voice to a whisper. "I hear that You-Know-Who is starting to go to war against Muggles and Muggle-born. Even half-bloods aren't safe. I also hear he's recruiting people to his side, to help."
"We heard Regulus talking about that!" exclaimed Bertram. "But what can be done about it?"
The group looked at each other and were silent for a minute. When they left the common room, they were lost in thought.
