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Rose Potter shook with both terror and fury as she unsteadily walked away from the staircase that led to the third-floor corridor, regretfully listening to the sobs of Neville Longbottom in the background as they raced as fast as they could.
Everything had gone to hell as soon as she and Ronald Weasley had left for the duel with Malfoy and Crabbe.
They had found Neville locked out of the tower as soon as they had stepped outside and had then been accosted by the walking tornado that was Hermione Granger. Honestly, that girl spoke so much about unrelated tangents that sometimes Rose felt as if her brain would short-circuit if she listened to her for more than five minutes. Worse was the fact that the Fat Lady had been gone at the time, locking them all outside which in turn also led to Neville and Hermione following them to the trophy room for their duel.
When they entered, no Slytherins had been waiting for them and no Slytherins showed up. It did not take them any longer than a second to understand what had happened— the house of snakes had shown why their reputation for deviousness and cunning was every bit well deserved.
They were instead almost caught by Filch, who had obviously been tipped off by Malfoy or one of his cronies and was on the hunt for any bold enough to break curfew. They could only flee as fast as they could, running blindly through the halls at speeds that Rose was sure she could never have achieved under normal circumstances before they finally came to stand outside a locked door, suddenly cornered and desperate for an escape.
Until Hermione had unlocked the door and revealed the terrifying monster within.
For a moment they were peering straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a monster so huge that it covered the whole space between the roof above and the floor below. It had three heads and six mad eyes set upon three noses which twitched and quivered in their direction as drool hung in ropes from yellowish fangs as big as knives.
Rose Potter had thought being made the new Gryffindor seeker would have been the craziest thing that happened that day, but that baffling bit of reality did not really hold a candle to the three-headed monster Cerberus that loomed behind the locked door leading to the locked third-floor corridor.
She had wondered for a brief moment of time, exactly what Dumbledore had been thinking by allowing that thing into the school. The eleven-year-old was not sure it was a good idea, but she had seen the trapdoor under the monster's massive paws and could not help the question that came to her mind at the fearful moment when the beast had lounged at them. What the hell was Dumbledore hiding?
But as the Girl-Who-Lived ran down the hallway with racing thoughts and a thumping heart— she did not notice Ronald who had been the slowest among them freeze nor did she notice a certain Potions Professor materialize out of nothing above the downed red-head.
Severus Snape's eyes sharpened as he stared down at the youngest Weasley, who was completely and utterly bound. He would have likely smirked in satisfaction had one of his snakes not been left lying in the Trophy Room, face down and unconscious with a large distinct lump forming upon his skull.
Snape knew all too well that there was far more at play here than what lay in front of him, but he could hardly prove it. His godson would not have wasted his time on a duel with Weasley alone but perhaps there was another close acquaintance in play. Snape could have cursed aloud at the fact that he had been too late and had probably let go of the opportunity to incriminate Rose Potter when he'd decided to escort his wayward Slytherins back to his office first, but he did not.
As a matter of fact, his face stayed completely impassive even as he thought he was piecing the situation together rather well. If Draco had really come here to duel Weasley who had successfully managed to show up as well, then the redhead must have agreed on a second as well and whoever it had been, they had seemingly fled at the first sign of danger at the latest. Snape wondered whom it had been even as haunting green eyes flashed through his mind.
A seemingly impossible, but plausible thought crossed his mind and though Weasley mercifully did not see it from his spot on the floor, his eyes actually did widen as he stared down the empty hallway in which he had caught Weasley. But who exactly would also have the motivation to leave that letter underneath his office door?
It must have been somebody who clearly was not on great terms with either side. The potion master just shook his head, it appeared to Severus Snape as though his own preconceptions had betrayed him.
It had taken Alaric a surprisingly short period of time to find the library after their charms lesson had ended that day. True, he had not yet located a book that would instruct him in subtle the arts of the mind, but progress was progress at the end of the day and he was well into his second-year syllabus by now.
He managed to sneak away as soon as the class had ended by turning into a corner that only he knew led towards the library which he knew about because of the great headways he had been making in the daring venture of exploring the entirety of the magical castle. The dungeons alone were vast, stretching far beyond the Slytherin common room into depths where not even Slytherins regularly ventured. Privately, Alaric thought the concern over such a trek was quite childish because from a logical perspective, he could hardly imagine that the founders would have put anything in the school that was dangerous but logic was not something that most of the magical community adhered to so he had been careful during his nightly explorations.
He reached the renowned library five minutes before he otherwise would have by taking the conventional route and spent a couple more hours looking for books on the mind arts but he could not find it. Frankly, there were just too many books in the library for him to locate such a specific spell and asking Madam Prince was out of the question since the subject was quite sensitive for most ordinary magicians who were not explorers of the deeper arcane. It was nearly time for dinner as he flipped furiously through the final pages of a spell book, cursing rather colourfully under his breath when he came to its conclusion without finding what he was looking for.
"Language, Master Peverell." A stern yet incredibly clear voice came from his side without any warning, "I would hate to deduct points from somebody who appears to be an early favourite to become my star student."
Alaric almost jumped at the cool question that came from directly behind him, allowing the book to close with a rather loud snap that drew the attention of Madam Pince whose eyes snapped towards them warningly for a moment as he turned to find Professor Quirrell looking down at him with a rather amused expression on his face.
"I'm sorry, Professor," he spoke with as much sincerity as he could manage, he was not used to speaking frankly to the man who appeared rather amused by his sudden jerkiness, "I won't do it again."
"Certainly not when I'm in your vicinity, at least." The Defence Professor smiled knowingly at him before his face turned more serious, "What has you so jumped up?"
He hesitated. He did not really want to share the information, as he dreaded the questions that would follow such an admission. Besides, the older man with pale white skin who always wore a turban over his head had never struck him as someone who was easy to get along with and would indulge in the curiosities of his students.
But the older man could probably speed things up quite a bit though, and if there was any Professor who would know about mind arts then it would be the one who taught students how to defend themselves magics both mundane and arcane. A part of him remembered the way his professor spoken about the subject of defence— it was as if he were drawing them all in towards something he truly loved, placing them in a kind of trance.
Professor Flitwick had also made arguments about the importance of his own subject today by preaching its versatility, explaining how it had roots in all sorts of things from duelling to household upkeep and everything in between. It was an interesting lecture, but one that he had received from almost all his instructors regarding their respective subjects.
But to Alaric, Professor Quirrell's points had been far more compelling— he knew all too well what it was like to feel helpless in situations one would rather not be in, and the eagerness to ensure they remained prepared for whatever the world might throw at them was rather tempting in a way he could not describe.
The Peverell scion paused for a moment before he sighed, giving in to practicality and curiosity as he looked up at him questioningly. "I'm searching for books on a certain subject which I'm sure must be inside here. But without knowing anything about it, it's been nearly impossible to find."
"If it is a simple desire, a method of completing it likely does exist, yes." Professor Quirrell slowly appraised him, seeming to be mildly surprised by his explanation and waited for a moment before he cut in once again when Alaric did not speak, "Well? If you would like me to aid you in your endeavour, it might help if you tell me what you're looking for?"
Alaric blinked in distant bemusement. He was not accustomed to anybody actually helping him, let alone taking the initiative to do so, the impulse to ask the professor for help had never even materialized and now that he really thought about it—he might need to start working towards breaking that habit.
"The Mind Arts, Professor," Alaric softly admitted, looking to the side. It was not exactly something forbidden but it was unique and would certainly serve to set him apart from his peers for all bystanders, "I'm searching for books on the subject, the Sorting Hat made me really curious about them,"
"That wasn't so difficult, was it? The Professor thought for a moment, seeming to be debating something internally before a few seconds later, he seemed to come to his decision as his sharp eyes quickly moved around the empty section they were in. "I can guide you towards a few books on the subject, but I would strongly recommend you keep it to yourself. It could spark some rather problematic questions if people find me instructing you in these types of magic."
Vaguely, Alaric wondered why such a thing might cause problematic questions but he did not bother to ask. He was grateful enough to receive some answers and he quickly assured the older man with an eager nod, "I'll keep it to myself,".
The Professor peered at him critically for a moment before nodding. He withdrew his wand and Alaric felt magic rush outward from it— it was as if something heavy and oppressive was spreading around them, emanating from the older man in waves which spread across the room at speed beyond comprehension. "I would recommend reading all of the theoretical sections before trying anything yourself."
Alaric slowly grasped the tome that had materialised in front of him and held it close to his chest. His eyes briefly scanned over the golden title emblazed over its cover— The Untold Secrets of the Mind.
"It always amuses me to see youngsters so eager to learn," The Defence Professor told him with a chuckle, nodding with mild approval. "Now, if that is all, I recommend that you return to your common room. Dinner is fast approaching, and I would hate to have such a gifted student skip feats in favour of books so early on in the school year."
"Thank you," he said, finding it odd, if not difficult to thank somebody out of genuine gratitude as opposed to an obligation.
The older man gave him a small, thin smile before raising a hand to pause his retreat. "Remember, Master Peverell, that within this world— curiosity is not a sin and if managed carefully and honed correctly, nothing but positive outcomes would stem from it. Have a good night."
With that parting message, the pair of them left the library, moving in different directions. Alaric did his utmost best to digest the words of his professor, feeling as if there was a larger message that he had missed within those eloquent words.
Thanks for reading.
