Over the next week, Giza and Blaise fell into a steady routine. After classes, they often found themselves in the library, studying in the quiet, focused atmosphere that seemed worlds away from the bustling halls of Hogwarts. The dim, warm light of the ancient library, the smell of parchment and ink, and the soft rustle of pages turning became a familiar backdrop to their growing friendship.
Blaise, always composed, would sit across from Giza, his quill moving effortlessly across parchment as they worked through assignments. Giza, for his part, found the library a refuge—somewhere he could immerse himself in the world of magic without the tension he sometimes felt in Slytherin's common room.
Their conversations were often casual, but Blaise's calm demeanor made Giza feel at ease. They didn't talk much about their families or the deeper topics of the wizarding world, but there was a quiet understanding between them. Blaise never pushed, and Giza appreciated the space he was given to find his place in this new, overwhelming world.
Occasionally, Giza would catch a glimpse of Daphne and Celeste in the library too, though they kept mostly to themselves. Celeste had seemed distant ever since the Charms lesson, though whether out of frustration or something else, Giza couldn't quite tell. Whenever their paths crossed, Celeste's cool demeanor would remain intact, though her gaze would linger on him just a second too long.
Despite the lingering tension with Celeste, Giza found the week passing smoothly, his studies progressing and his bond with Blaise growing stronger. It was a welcome reprieve from the strangeness of his new life at Hogwarts, and for the first time, he felt like he might be finding a place for himself here.
"How's the Potions homework coming, Blaise?" Giza asked, glancing up from his own parchment as he absentmindedly tapped his quill against the table.
Blaise looked up from his book, his expression as calm as ever. "It's coming along," he replied smoothly, setting his quill down for a moment. "Snape's instructions are… meticulous, as usual. But I've worked through most of it."
Giza gave a slight nod, not surprised. Blaise had a way of handling everything with an air of ease, even subjects that seemed to baffle most of the other first-years. Potions was no exception.
"How about you?" Blaise asked, raising an eyebrow. "I noticed you've been spending a bit more time with your notes than usual."
Giza sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I'm getting there. Potions isn't exactly what I expected it to be. Less about magic and more about precision, like cooking."
Blaise smirked. "And Snape treats it like an art form. Precision is everything to him. You'll get it, though. Just follow the instructions to the letter."
"Easier said than done," Giza muttered, thinking back to his last lesson, where the cauldron had nearly bubbled over after a slightly delayed stir.
Blaise chuckled lightly. "True. But Snape does respect those who pay attention to detail. Just make sure you do that, and you'll be fine."
Giza smiled slightly, grateful for Blaise's calm confidence. As challenging as some of the work had been, having Blaise around made it feel a little less overwhelming.
"It's not like we're going to fail. We're at the top of most classes," Giza said with a hint of pride, though he kept his tone casual.
Blaise turned to him with a smirk. "Yeah, I've noticed. It's been pissing off Celeste. She's been more irritable than usual. Did you hear she hexed a third-year right in the face… brutal."
"Hmmm," Giza let out a short breath of amusement, the image of a furious Celeste casting a hex on some poor older student flashing in his mind. "I wonder if it's the same guy who harassed her on the train," he mused, the memory of the older Slytherins resurfacing briefly.
He grimaced slightly at the thought before quickly turning back to Blaise. "I don't care what she's up to," he added firmly, dismissing the topic as he shifted his focus back to the work in front of him.
"Hah, sureeee," Blaise teased, the smirk on his face widening. "Anyway, it's not like she's at the bottom of the class. She's third, and I reckon she'd be higher than me if I didn't study with you."
Giza shot him a sideways glance, though he couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. "Yeah, right. You're just saying that to boost my ego."
Blaise shook his head, still smirking. "Nah, seriously. You're not giving yourself enough credit. Besides, Celeste could be near the top too if she didn't spend half her time glaring at her wand like it personally offended her."
Giza grinned, imagining Celeste's frustrated expression in Charms again. "Maybe. But I'm not going to give her the satisfaction of knowing I care."
Blaise shrugged, amused. "Fair enough. Still, you've got a way of getting under people's skin without even trying."
"Fair enough," Giza replied, and both he and Blaise chuckled quietly at their conversation.
Before they could say another word, though, a sharp, unmistakable *shh!* cut through the air. Madam Pince, the strict and ever-watchful librarian, was glaring at them from behind her desk, her eyes narrowing dangerously.
Both boys quickly straightened up, stifling their laughter as they exchanged amused glances. Giza mouthed a quick "oops" and buried himself back in his Potions homework, while Blaise simply smirked, his quill poised over his parchment as they returned to their studies in silence.
As Giza and Blaise made their way down the corridor, the dim light flickering from the torches along the walls, they spotted a familiar figure ahead. Daphne was cornered, her back against the cold stone wall, and standing in front of her was one of the third-years from the train. Giza recognized him immediately—the same type who had caused trouble before.
As they approached, they could hear the low, threatening voice of the third-year. His tone dripped with menace. "Looks like you haven't got that mudblood or your little bitch friend to save you this time," he sneered. "Celeste hexing Nott the other day was a dirty move. I might just exact some payback on you for that."
Daphne, for all her usual composure, looked tense, her wand gripped tightly in her hand but still lowered. Her eyes flickered briefly to the side, catching sight of Giza and Blaise approaching.
Blaise stopped beside Giza, his expression shifting into something colder, more dangerous. Giza could feel his own pulse quicken as the words of the third-year hung in the air, stirring up a familiar anger from the confrontation on the train. Neither of them had expected to walk into this, but it was clear they weren't about to let it continue.
Without a word, they stepped forward, closing the distance between them and the third-year.
"I thought I told you to back off. Looks like you have trouble understanding. Not surprising, considering how inbred you are," Giza snapped, his wand raised, and Blaise mirrored him, both of their expressions hard and unwavering.
The third-year sneered, shoving Daphne back roughly as he squared up to Giza and Blaise. "Come on then, mudblood. Let's see if you really do have shit running through your veins."
The insult hit hard, and before Giza could react, Blaise's wand snapped forward. "Petrificus Totalus!" he shouted, but the boy quickly smirked, casting a shield charm in response. The spell bounced harmlessly off, and with a quick flick of his wrist, the third-year retaliated with a knockback hex, sending Blaise crashing to the floor.
As Blaise grunted in pain and tried to push himself up, the boy turned toward Giza, his wand aimed menacingly. But then he hesitated. The look on Giza's face must have struck him—rage like he hadn't seen before. Pure, unfiltered fury pulsed through Giza's veins, and without any rational thought, he raised his wand again, but this time he wasn't just casting a spell.
Giza felt the power surge through him, raw and primal, as if it were answering his anger directly. With a sudden force, a concussive blast erupted from the tip of his wand, more powerful than anything he'd intended. The magical energy hit the third-year square in the chest, sending him flying back through the air. He crashed against the stone floor with a sickening thud, his leg bent at an unnatural angle, his body crumpled in a heap.
Silence filled the corridor as Giza, Blaise, and Daphne all stood there, dumbfounded. No one moved, the weight of what had just happened sinking in as the boy lay groaning on the ground. Giza's wand hand trembled slightly, the last of the energy dissipating, and for a moment, he couldn't quite believe what he had done.
"Mr. Patel!" came a sharp, furious shriek from behind.
Giza's stomach dropped as he turned to see Professor McGonagall marching toward them, her eyes blazing with anger. Her presence seemed to fill the entire corridor, making the air feel even heavier than before. Daphne stiffened beside him, and Blaise, still on the ground, managed to push himself upright with a grimace.
"Oh shit," Giza muttered under his breath, the reality of what had just happened hitting him full force. He could feel his heart racing, the adrenaline from the fight mixing with a deep sense of dread.
McGonagall reached them in seconds, her eyes darting between the crumpled third-year on the ground and the three of them, her expression a mix of fury and disbelief. "What is the meaning of this?!" she demanded, her voice echoing in the stone hallway.
Giza opened his mouth to explain, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. The blast, the anger, the power—it all felt like a blur now.
Luckily, before Giza could stumble over his words, Daphne, as cool and composed as ever, stepped forward.
"Professor," she began, her voice calm but measured, "we were on our way back when this third-year—Nott—cornered me. He was threatening to retaliate for an earlier incident involving Celeste. Giza and Blaise were just trying to help."
McGonagall's sharp gaze shifted to Daphne, and though her expression remained stern, she listened carefully. "And Mr. Patel's... rather excessive reaction?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as she looked back at the boy on the ground.
Daphne glanced briefly at Giza before continuing, unwavering. "It all happened very quickly, Professor. Nott was the one who escalated things first. He attacked Blaise, and Giza reacted out of instinct, trying to defend us."
Giza stood there silently, grateful for Daphne's intervention. McGonagall's eyes moved over each of them, clearly assessing the situation. Though her expression was still severe, there was a slight softening as she took in Daphne's composed explanation.
"I will not tolerate this kind of behavior, no matter the circumstances," McGonagall said sharply, her voice regaining its firm authority. "But given the situation, we will address this thoroughly. Come with me, all of you."
She cast a quick spell to lift Nott from the ground, his body floating behind her as she led them all down the corridor, her robes billowing as the weight of the moment settled heavily on Giza's shoulders.
After a tense walk through the castle, McGonagall led the group to the entrance of Dumbledore's office. The moaning third-year boy had been left in the capable hands of the infirmary staff, but Giza's nerves were far from settled. The weight of what had just happened still hung heavily in the air.
Before them stood a large, ugly stone gargoyle, its lifeless eyes staring forward. McGonagall stopped in front of it, her expression as severe as ever.
"Chocolate Frogs," she said crisply, and the gargoyle sprang to life, leaping aside to reveal a spiraling staircase.
Giza exchanged a nervous glance with Blaise and Daphne. The reality of being summoned to Dumbledore's office had fully sunk in. Daphne, though composed as ever, offered him a small, reassuring nod. Blaise remained stoic, but even he couldn't hide the tension in his shoulders.
Without a word, McGonagall motioned for them to follow her up the staircase. Giza took a deep breath and stepped forward, his mind racing with what might come next.
As soon as they stepped into Dumbledore's office, Giza's eyes were immediately drawn to the array of strange and wondrous gizmos and gadgets spread across the room. Gears clicked, small mechanical arms whirred, and various magical instruments spun and pulsed with a quiet hum of energy. It was unlike anything Giza had seen before, each object seemingly performing some mysterious task of its own.
But before he could take in the full scope of the room, a soft trill drew their attention. Perched majestically near the corner of the room was Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes. The magnificent bird's fiery red and gold plumage glowed in the soft light, and its gentle song filled the room with an odd sense of calm, even in the midst of the tension.
Giza felt a strange comfort from the phoenix's presence, the melody soothing his frayed nerves, if only for a moment. Blaise and Daphne stood beside him, equally entranced by the creature, their earlier tension momentarily forgotten.
McGonagall cleared her throat, snapping them out of their brief reverie. "Professor Dumbledore will be with you shortly," she said, her tone firm but not unkind as she gestured for them to sit.
As McGonagall turned and walked out of the office, leaving them alone, Giza, Blaise, and Daphne awkwardly shuffled into the chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk. The silence that followed felt heavy, the tension thick in the room despite the magical gadgets quietly whizzing and clicking around them.
Just as Giza was about to get lost in his swirling thoughts, the quiet was broken by a small, unexpected voice.
"Thank you," Daphne said softly, her words directed at Giza and Blaise. She didn't meet their eyes, but there was sincerity in her tone that cut through the unease in the air.
Giza nodded slightly in response, offering a tight-lipped smile, while Blaise gave her a quick, acknowledging glance. The weight of the situation hadn't left them, but the gratitude in Daphne's words offered a small reminder that, at the very least, they had each other's backs.
As the minutes stretched on, Giza began to feel the weight of the silence pressing down on him. The tension was unbearable, and without thinking, he stood up and began to pace the office, glancing around at the various spinning gadgets and trinkets. His footsteps echoed softly in the grand room, only adding to the awkwardness.
Daphne shot him a look of mild irritation, while Blaise, ever the composed one, finally spoke up. "Stop fidgeting and sit down," he said, his tone calm but firm, though there was a hint of frustration beneath it.
Giza sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before reluctantly returning to his seat. "I can't help it," he muttered under his breath, though he stayed still, trying his best to contain the nervous energy that had been building since they entered the office.
Both Daphne and Blaise gave him knowing glances but said nothing more. They all knew what was at stake, and the waiting only made it harder to keep the anxiety at bay.
Out of the corner of his eye, Giza spotted the familiar, worn Sorting Hat resting on a shelf. Its ragged brim folded in on itself, as though in deep contemplation. The sight of it brought a rush of memories flooding back—*ancient power.* Those two words echoed in his mind, and suddenly the weight of what had just happened in the corridor seemed even heavier.
The hat had known about his power. The power he barely understood himself—the one he had just used to blast Nott off his feet. Did the hat tell Dumbledore? Had he known all along? Giza's mind raced with questions, but before he could dwell on them, the door swung open.
Professor Snape entered first, his dark robes billowing as he strode into the room, his expression as unreadable as ever. Right behind him, Dumbledore followed, his calm yet piercing gaze sweeping over the room. The atmosphere seemed to shift with their presence, the quiet tension sharpening in an instant.
Dumbledore's eyes rested on Giza for a moment, and though his expression was gentle, there was something in his gaze that made Giza's stomach tighten. Without a word, Dumbledore took his seat behind his desk, while Snape stood off to the side, his arms folded, his eyes cold and calculating as he looked at the three students.
"Mr. Patel, Miss Greengrass, Mr. Zabini," Dumbledore began softly, his voice calm but firm. "I understand there was an... incident today. Let us discuss it."
A/N fixed perspective issue in last chapter. Any other issues like that leave another review
