Today was the day the potion to release the students from their petrification would be finished. Harry Potter had slain a basilisk of all things, to bring the Heir of Slytherin's reign of terror to an end. He wouldn't have believed it, had he not been in the infirmary when a Phoenix had dumped Potter, Weasley, the girl Weasley, and Lockhart on the floor. It had been shocking, to say the least.
Perseus sat quietly at Hermione's bedside, reading a rather thick muggle textbook that Madame Pomphrey—Poppy as she'd directed him to call her in private—had provided for him to pass the time, and to study religiously. It was titled Gray's Anatomy, by Henry Gray.
The book was as interesting as it was perplexing. It answered questions Perseus never knew he had, explaining in detail concepts Perseus had never even considered. He'd been reading the book for a week now, and still found himself amazed with the turn of every page.
The body was more complex than anything Perseus had ever studied, and it gave him an acute understanding of just why things like Animagery and Human Transfiguration were so difficult.
And to think muggles had discovered all this without the use of magic; what could he discover?
He looked up from his book as the door to the infirmary banged open, and Professor Snape entered, a cauldron floating in behind him.
Perseus closed his book and uncrossed his legs. Lost as he was in his book, and with the overarching anxiousness he was feeling, he'd completely lost track of time.
Professor Snape gently lowered the cauldron he'd been levitating to the ground. Stooping over the potion, his greasy hair hung freely, the fumes rising directly into his face as he churned it thrice clockwards.
Perseus thought he must get some sick pleasure out of the potions, the way he practically inhaled their odious vapors. The horrible scents and sometimes thick plumes must've been some sort of intoxicant for the man. They merely served to make Perseus nauseous.
Madame Pomphrey entered the infirmary from her office, her face lighter than he'd seen it in the few weeks he'd spent with her. He could tell her inability to help the students was weighing on her heavily, and the arrival of Professor Snape with the Mandrake Draught had already done a lot to boost her spirits.
She complained to him often about the constant flux of visitors and full beds. While he thought a day without an injury to treat was boring, to Madame Pomphrey, a day without a visitor was an amazing day.
Rising from the cauldron, Professor Snape gave Madame Pomphrey a single stiff nod, before sweeping out of the infirmary, his cloak billowing behind him.
"Alright Mr. Black, one half vial for every patient," she said, handing him 4 vials.
He immediately turned towards Hermione, ready to pour the vial down her throat as quickly as possible.
Madame Pomphrey tutted. "No, no, Mr. Black," she said, steering him to the other side of the room. "Miss Granger will be last, I'm afraid. It wouldn't be fair to the others, you see?"
Perseus frowned, but did as he was told. It mattered little whether she woke up first or last, as long as she was awake soon.
Pouring the vials into their mouths, Perseus watched on silently as they all were released from their petrification in turn. Each was out of their bed quickly and without difficulty, as if they'd merely been sleeping for the past year.
Madame Pomphrey didn't even bother examining them, merely sending them on their way.
Finally, all that remained was himself, Madame Pomphrey, and Hermione.
"It appears I am needed most urgently in my office," Poppy said, moving to the door. "And remember, Mr. Black, one half vial!"
Perseus grabbed the final remaining vial and approached Hermione's bed, silently thanking Madame Pomphrey. She had been better to him than he was sure he deserved thus far.
Holding on to Hermione's hand, he poured the vial into her mouth with the other, before pocketing it in his robe.
He looked closely, but he felt it first. The stiffness was leaving her hand, its previous stone-like quality returning to the soft, parchment worn skin he was accustomed to.
Her cheeks regained their pinkness, and Perseus found himself holding his breath as awareness slowly crept back into her brown eyes.
He'd spent the last few weeks at her side, telling her about the things he was learning with Poppy, and the things she was missing in class. He was unsure if she could hear him, but it brought him a sense of comfort, just being in her presence.
She blinked once, then twice, before shooting up in the bed, her eyes wide and her breath rapid.
"Perseus," she exclaimed, squeezing his hand. "You were right! It was a basilisk! Did you figure it out? Did Harry figure it out?"
Perseus squeezed her hand in return, the bombardment of questions that was so Hermione, filling him with warmth.
"Potter figured it out," Perseus said. "He killed the basilisk and saved Ginevra Weasley."
Hermione released a girlish squeal, before launching herself at him, causing them to collapse on the bed.
He caught her, and laughter bubbled up in his chest, her sheer presence filling him with joy.
She untangled herself from him quickly, her cheeks pink. "What time is it? I've got to go tell Harry I'm awake! He really figured it out!" She got up from the bed quickly. "I'll talk to you again soon, Perseus! Goodbye!"
Perseus didn't even get a chance to wave before the girl was gone, shooting out of the infirmary at a full sprint. One would never guess it was the first time the girl had so much as moved in the last 3 weeks.
Perseus frowned, sitting on the bed. He'd been her constant companion, reading to her and holding her hand. He'd waited patiently for weeks for her to wake up, so that he could perhaps tell her that she was stupid for walking around the castle with no one else around, that she could've died. But more importantly, to tell her he was happy she was okay, and that he'd missed her.
"Don't look so dour, Mr. Black," Poppy said, coming out of her office to stand in front of him. "Miss Granger is merely excited. I'm sure you'll see her again soon."
Perseus shot the woman a look, unhappy with her reading his expression so easily.
"Off we go, Mr. Black," she said, gesturing towards the door. "We have a feast to attend, and we're already late."
Perseus sat silently in his seat in the Great Hall, listening, as Slytherin was once more robbed of the House Cup by the Headmaster himself—not that he really cared.
He supposed the points were well deserved, even if the administration of them was at the least ideal time.
He glanced over at the Gryffindor table, spotting Hermione through their frenzied cheering at winning the house cup for a consecutive year. She was talking rapidly with Potter, no doubt demanding all the details of his escapade into the Chamber of Secrets.
Perseus didn't know much about it himself, and didn't feel the need to learn anything more on the matter. He was simply glad the problem was solved, it mattered not how it happened or who did it. He was also glad to learn Gilderoy Lockhart had been placed in the Janus Thickney ward, unable to remember even his own name. He was sure he'd never get the smile off his face.
"Where have you been?"
Perseus looked away from the Gryffindor table, turning to meet Daphne's gaze. He swore her eyes grew brighter by the day.
"The infirmary," he said, taking a sip of his juice in a futile attempt to soothe his hoarse throat.
"The infirmary?" Tracey asked, tilting her head. "Were you hurt?"
Perseus shook his head. He glared at the few people who were paying a little too much attention to their conversation. He knew people would listen, but they could at the very least be discreet.
"No, I'm fine."
"So what were you doing? Hanging out with Pomphrey?" Blaise asked sarcastically.
Funnily enough, the idea wasn't too far off, nor was he really opposed to it. He'd come to appreciate and value Madame Pomphrey' quiet, steady presence.
"I was learning."
Daphne's eyes grew wide. "From Madame Pomphrey?"
Perseus nodded. "Yes. She has agreed to take me on as an apprentice, to help prepare me to become a healer."
Down the table, Malfoy laughed out loud.
Perseus glanced at him, and the boy shot him a smug smirk. "A Healer, Black?" he said, sneering at him. "How the mighty House of Black has fallen."
"Do you think your mother would agree, Draco?"
The table grew completely silent, even the older students stopping to stare at them.
"Perseus-"
Draco cut Daphne off. "I'm sure my father would," Draco said, seemingly pleased with his response.
Perseus nodded. Draco Malfoy was as big an imbecile as one could get. His father was a nobody, hardly fit enough to be considered nobility. The man had nothing to his name besides his riches; as bountiful as they might be, everyone was rich in their own right. The Malfoys however had nothing, they owned nothing, they were nothing. No, Narcissa Malfoy née Black was their claim to nobility, and Perseus would be sure they never forgot it.
"Your father, Draco," Perseus said, his voice grating against his throat. "And you can tell him I said this—is a servile social climber, who has my cousin Narcissa and the Founding House of Black to thank for any and all good fortune that befalls him."
There were gasps, and mutters around the table. No doubt news of this conversation would reach the ears of parents, who would do Merlin knows what with the information, not that Perseus cared. His aunt would probably even congratulate him. Telling off the Malfoys had apparently been a pastime of many Blacks before him.
"Perseus," Daphne whispered and brushed her fingers against his hand, breaking his focus.
She shook her head softly, gesturing with a nod for them to leave the hall.
Perseus frowned but nodded, getting slowly to his feet. He offered Draco a nod, before following Daphne out of the hall.
Daphne didn't speak on the walk back to the dungeons, merely giving him the occasional glance.
"Aristocrat," she said, and the wall that led to the Slytherin common room slid away.
"You mustn't let Malfoy into your head, Perseus," she said once she had turned around to face him.
"Draco Malfoy is no threat to me," Perseus said with a shrug.
Daphne glared at him. "Lucius Malfoy is everything you say he is, but he is also much more."
Perseus snorted. The Black Family had a Black Book thicker than Hogwarts, A History. It was how he knew Lockhart was a fraud, besides the obvious reasons. Perseus was the head of his family, and he had access to everything there had ever been, without impunity. Not even his aunt could stop him, or could read even a tenth of the things he had read. Some of the things he'd read in that book had made his stomach crawl, some of the things he'd read about Lucius Malfoy himself had left him nauseous. He knew exactly the sort of man Lucius Malfoy was.
Daphne sighed. "Just, don't antagonize him needlessly, please?" she said. "You may be untouchable, Perseus, but we can't all be from the House of Black."
She gave him a meaningful look, before turning and heading up the stairs to her dorm.
Perseus turned and stared out of the window that looked into the depths of the Great Lake. Grindylow and fish swam by the window, and he followed them with his eyes. He thought about what Daphne said, and it scared him.
His aunt had never spoken of things like this before, in her talks of the Black Family's greatness. Never spoken of a single ally—only enemies and acquaintances, never a friend. If they'd ever had any, it was a secret even to him.
It wasn't a trend Perseus wanted to continue. He'd had enough of being alone as a child, and he'd come to appreciate the few people he'd allowed himself to meet.
The Black Family had protected itself for centuries. Surely it could protect a few more?
