YEAR 2

Andrew and Rowan were at the Library, doing, what else, some research on the Cursed Vaults, trying to figure out what the clue they'd found in the room with the Cursed Ice really meant. So far, it was proving about as successful as the last eight times they tried.

"This blows," said Andrew, slumping against a nearby bookcase. "We haven't made any progress at all."

"I guess there's a reason nobody found the Vaults before," Rowan offered.

"I guess," Andrew said dejectedly.

Eager to escape the subject, he scanned the many, many books they had taken out of their shelves. Advanced Rune Translation; Ancient Runes Made Easy; Ancient Runes Translation. (Rowan thought the cipher used for the message on the wall might have been based on runes.) Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions. (They thought they might find an easier way to deal with the Cursed Ice than using Flipendo, but unfortunately the book was rather light on ice based maladies.) Curses and Counter Curses. (They were called the Cursed Vaults, after all...) Gadding With Ghouls. (Andrew had taken this one out for fun. Gilderoy Lockhart was so dapper!) A Guide to Medieval Sorcery. (Clearly the Vaults had been built around the time of the founding, but all they learned was that Wizards sometimes carried a staff in the old days, and that Godric Gryffindor carried a sword for when Muggles challenged him to a duel.)

Hogwarts, A History. His eyes paused on the title. Looking at it, Andrew was reminded of a question that had been on his mind for quite some time.

"Rowan, maybe you know this," he said. "Hogwarts is supposed to have like, a thousand students, right? How come there's only five of us at our dorm?"

"You're only asking this now?" Rowan replied, stifling a laugh. As the future youngest professor in Hogwarts, he couldn't very well laugh at stupid questions, but still. "Andy, we're in Year Two!"

"I know!" said Andrew, blushing just a little bit. "I thought so last year too, but I reasoned maybe people didn't have enough kids, or something. I counted the Sorting this year though, and it was only forty kids, just like ours."

"That's because the one thousand students thing is just a rumour. Hogwarts only has about two hundred and eighty students per year," said Rowan, going full lecture mode. "There are always ten students per year, five boys and five girls, and seventy students per house. I've read about years where they had more, but it's uncommon. I mean, can you imagine hundreds of students gathering in our common room?" He scratched his head. "I figured your Wizard dad would have told you how many students there would be in your year at least."

"Pa didn't go to Hogwarts, remember?"

"Right," said Rowan, putting a thoughtful hand to his chin, "you mentioned he wasn't from around here. Did he go to another Wizarding school?"

Andrew shrugged. "I don't know. I can ask him when I send my owl this week if you want."

"I mean, sure, but aren't you curious?" his friend pressed.

"Not really. Oh, but me and Jacob did get a Castelobruxo letter."

Rowan's eyes went wide. "Really?!" he asked, looking positively giddy.

"Yes. Pa didn't go there either though. We got it because Da is from Brazil."

"That's your Muggle dad, right?"

Andrew nodded.

"Why didn't you and your brother go there?"

"Da thought we'd have trouble studying. Jake... I mean, Jacob didn't know that much Portuguese when he got his letter. I had more time to learn than him, but by then he'd already gone to Hogwarts and then some, so..." he trailed off.

"Hmm. You could have avoided his reputation though, if you'd gone there," said Rowan, obviously thinking of all the bullying they both endured.

"I guess. He's still my brother though. I thought coming here, I'd be able to connect to him, maybe even find him. I know it's silly—"

"It's not silly," Rowan protested. "If my little brother went missing, I'd stop at nothing to find him."

Yet my big brother doesn't even think to send me a message, he thought bitterly. Rowan must have noticed his expression cloud, because he placed a hand on Andrew's shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"Hey. We're gonna find out what happened, okay?" he said.

Andrew reached out to his hand and brought it into his own. "Thank you, Rowan."

Despite his friend's reassurances, however, Andrew left the Library feeling very frustrated. He couldn't find the Cursed Vault last year, and wasn't making any headway this year either... he knew they existed, but 'the Ice Knight stands guard past the vanished stairs' wasn't much to go on. Thoughts of his brother encased in ice kept going through his head, and Merula was still being a witch to him even though he'd saved her life. Students from the other houses still bumped into him at corridors and whispered his and his brother's names behind his back, saying they both worked for You-Know-Who. Andrew hated it.

Things had eased up somewhat in his own house at least, thanks to their winning the House Cup with his hundred points last year, and he'd been able to prove Merula sabotaged him in Potions the other day, unlike last year, so he wasn't losing points anymore. Chester still kept an eye on him though, no matter how many points Professor Flitwick awarded him for helping tutor the other students. Andrew sighed. The thing is, he loved Hogwarts, and he loved learning. He loved his friends. He loved magic. It was getting increasingly hard, though, to hold on to that love.

These thoughts kept hanging over his head like a stormy cloud all day until he couldn't take it anymore, so he ducked into the nearest empty classroom and stomped his foot really hard. It was just so frustrating! He wished he could shout, and felt like kicking something, but Mr. Filch or Peeves would probably hear him if he did the former, and his dads had taught him better than to damage stuff, especially stuff that wasn't his. His breath was getting uneven though, and he knew he had to calm down somehow, he had Transfiguration next and Professor McGonagall always looked at him with such hopeful eyes, eyes he'd only seen on Professor Flitwick after he levitated his first feather, eyes that didn't think he was a failure or a disgrace like... like his...

Biting down tears, Andrew thought back to when he was little, when he and Jacob would cuddle up to Da and listen to him sing his strange, foreign songs. Jacob was always so unsure back then. Unsure about his words, unsure about his gestures. Andrew was old enough to understand now. They'd just been adopted, and it was harder for Jacob. He remembered their birth parents, even though he wouldn't talk about them. Andrew didn't, not really. He was just happy he was going to have a family, and that his brother would be with him. The kids at the orphanage used to tease them about it, about how people might want Andrew, because he was so little, but nobody would want Jacob, so they might as well get used to being apart. His earliest memories were nightmares of someone taking him away from Jake. He was so grateful that didn't happen. He was so grateful to his dads. He was sure Jake was too, and that he was afraid to displease them in some way. The first time they got scolded—Jacob had convinced him to take a few Sickles from their Pa's pocket, so they could buy candy—he locked himself in his room, thinking he would be sent back to the orphanage. Da and Pa stayed at his door all night, and so did Andrew. They made a pillow fort. Pa brought loads of blankets, and Da sang until his throat was dry. Next morning, when Jake opened the door, they all fell over backwards into the room. Jake was terrified, but their dads just started laughing. Andrew didn't understand, but he started laughing too. Pa explained that they would never kick him out, no matter what he did, and that they loved him very much, but that what he'd done was wrong, and when Jacob asked what his punishment would be, their dads just looked at each other. 'Well, we were going to send you to bed early, but you sort of sent yourself,' their Pa said, and Andrew would never forget Jacob's smile then.

Later that day, Jacob asked Da if he could teach him one of his songs. Da decided to make a day out of it and teach them both.

It went like...

"Não estou disposto

a esquecer seu rosto de vez

e acho que é tão normal..."

His voice was hoarse at first, he didn't have many chances to sing at Hogwarts, but it was picking up. The next part was...

"Dizem que sou louco

por eu ter um gosto assim,

gostar de quem não gosta de mim.

Jogue suas mãos para o céu

e agradeça se acaso tiver

alguém que você gostaria que

estivesse sempre com você

na rua, na chuva, na fazenda

ou numa casinha de sapê..."

The moment he was done, he heard clapping behind him. Loud, enthusiastic clapping. He turned around, startled and more than a little scared, only to find an unfamiliar red-haired Gryffindor boy grinning wildly at him.

"That was really good!" the boy said. Andrew scanned his face for mockery, but didn't find any. "You were singing in Portuguese, right?" he continued, unaware of the scrutiny. "Bill has a Brazilian penfriend, and this one time he sent a Howler it sounded kinda like that."

"Y-Yes, it was," said Andrew, still feeling like he got caught doing something he wasn't supposed to.

"You should join the Frog Choir next time there's an opening! I bet you'd do really well there and..." he trailed off, looking at a spot in the ground. There wasn't anything there that Andrew could see except sunlight, coming from the now open door. As if on cue, the Gryffindor boy turned to look at it and put his hands to his head. "Bugger! I'm gonna be late for practice!"

Andrew followed his gaze and found that the sun was quite a bit lower than it had been when he entered the room. Did he really spend that much time inside? Hopefully he wouldn't be late for Transfiguration like the boy was for practice.

"I gotta go. Nice meeting you, see you around!" the boy said, darting out of the room before Andrew could even say 'bye.'

What a weird guy!

But... maybe Andrew didn't feel so bad anymore. If nothing else, he was reminded that not everyone was out to get him. Maybe he'd ask Ben about this mystery boy later, since they were both Gryffindor.

Maybe he'd ask about this Frog Choir, too.

The song was Na Rua, Na Chuva, Na Fazenda by Hyldon.

It's a nostalgic song about finding someone who would be with you through hell or high water, or as the author put it, 'in the streets, in the rain, in the farm, or in a little thatched house.'