We walked a couple of corridors in silence, and only the younger Slytherins muttered something under their breath, somewhere in the middle of the procession. Were the pure-blood children yet again trying to work out the ins and outs, the underlying reasons, behind the "badgers" and "snakes" mixing so freely? Such contact, much like contact with students from any other house, wasn't in the least unique within Hogwarts — if anything, cross-house interaction was entirely commonplace. But I happen to know that I've got something of an advertising presence in the wizarding world, and any child, any Quidditch fan, has at the very least seen me on some promotional moving photograph. And such adverts can hardly resist a bit of added flourish, something along the lines of: "The astonishing Muggle-born conquers the very heights of the art of broom flight!"
I want to become a Healer, and everyone knows me as the fastest Quidditch player around! And what does that mean for my future career as a Healer, exactly? That I'll be able to outfly everyone to any far-flung, unheard-of destination?
In the Great Hall, to Hannah's surprise, and mine as well, everything had been decorated in the Halloween tradition, only in a somewhat darker style — fitting, given Snape was Headmaster.
As Hannah and I made our way to our seats at the house table, I was surprised to spot the already-awake, alert but not particularly cheerful Gryffindors, among them Harry and Hermione, with Weasley actively complaining about something to Seamus and Dean. Ah, I see…
"…bats," Weasley eyed the decorations of animated bats fluttering beneath the darkened ceiling of the Hall with distaste. "What else would you expect from the Dungeon Bat?"
Breakfast passed peacefully enough, the enthusiasm of some students naturally thawing the somewhat tense atmosphere that had hung over Hogwarts for the past month. The younger students delighted in the holiday, while those a bit older, from third year up, looked forward to a good day off and a trip to Hogsmeade — for some of them, it would be their very first outing to the village. All in all, not bad at all.
"Heading straight to Hogsmeade?" Zacharias asked after breakfast, wanting to settle a question we hadn't yet resolved.
"Whatever suits you best," Hannah answered before anyone else could.
"Right, straight off then, once we've got changed. Shame Justin's not coming."
"Oh?" I picked up on that particular detail. "Why not?"
"He wrote saying he's not willing to risk venturing into the magical world given how unclear things currently are," Zacharias explained. "Hogwarts and Hogsmeade are safe enough, of course, but without good reason it's better not to take chances. I reckon if things keep going the way they are, we could arrange to visit him at his place some weekend instead."
"Unlikely, that," Hannah shook her head. "He may not come from an ancient and noble wizarding family, but he's from Muggle aristocracy. Their Christmas holidays are almost certainly scheduled down to the hour."
"Fair point…"
As breakfast drew to a close, and most of the older students hurried off to their house common rooms to change for Hogsmeade or attend to whatever else they had planned, I finally found the chance to meet up with Daphne right at the exit of the Great Hall.
"Hey," I greeted her with something of a smile, drawing an answering smile from the girl.
"Hey."
A degree of public visibility keeps us from showing anything much beyond walking arm in arm, but there are nuances even there — one can walk in a manner suggesting a gentleman politely escorting a lady somewhere, or one can let one's whole bearing suggest something far deeper. It was very much the second variety that our stroll through Hogwarts' corridors toward the Slytherin common room resembled — Daphne and I had agreed to head straight to Hogsmeade, wander about, stop in at the café for the invariably splendid pastries and rare teas, and only from the afternoon onward would we begin preparing for all our magical manipulations and experiments.
"How's the mood in your house?" I opened with an innocent enough question, one I hadn't intended to develop into anything significant.
"Surely you already know?"
"But we could talk about it all the same. Not just magical research and experiments," a smile crept onto my face unbidden as I looked at Daphne. "Though those experiments certainly appeal to the both of us plenty."
"Very much so. But you're right, one can't spend all one's time on research alone. As for house matters…" Daphne fell thoughtful. "You'd really be better off asking Pansy about the social side of things. My presence among the ordinary sort of dim-witted housemates causes them a fair bit of discomfort. Especially after our practical lessons in combat magic."
"Whereas Malfoy's only grown more respected for it," I chuckled. "Though he's started making quick work of his housemates, like… hm, I don't even have a comparison for it."
"He's simply Malfoy," Daphne waved the thought off with an air of indifference. "It's generally accepted that their family can find a way out of any slippery situation, twist it to their advantage. Blood, as they say, isn't water. And besides, he mostly works as support, and doesn't cause quite as much humiliation to his housemates or other enthusiasts of clumsy wand-waving."
"Sounding rather like Snape, the moment you learned to build runic circuits without so much as a single flick of the wrist. Pride is a sin," despite my words, I was smiling.
"First of all, look who's talking," Daphne gave me a gentle jab in the ribs with her elbow. "And second — I'm a Slytherin. Pride is an intrinsic part of us. Not arrogance, though. That's more of a pathology."
We entered the main tower, with its multitude of shifting staircases, and descended into the dungeons leading toward the Slytherin common room.
"As for 'matters' within the house… I'd say everything's calm enough. As always, some of them beat each other up in the small training hall, plenty have returned to their endless discussions of 'blood purity,' the significance of the Dark Lord, and belittling anyone insufficiently pure-blooded. Some chant that all Muggle-borns ought to be driven out, but it never goes further than words. Oddly enough, the most sensible ones have gathered around Malfoy. And then there are the groups of two or three keeping to neutrality — that's not forbidden among us."
"Truly, nothing new. Ah, well…" I glanced thoughtfully up at the dark ceiling. "Rather a dull year, all things considered. Far too calm at Hogwarts, while all the interesting things seem to happen the moment you step outside the castle."
"Don't fret," Daphne, walking arm in arm with me through the corridors, pressed a little closer. "Today's experiment will certainly bring a touch of variety to life. To ours, at the very least, however briefly."
"That's for certain."
We reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, and Daphne slipped quickly through the passage, leaving me here alone, waiting. Well, perhaps not entirely alone, since the odd Slytherin kept appearing here and there, entering or leaving the common room. Many even gave me a nod in greeting, neutral though it was.
A few minutes later, Daphne emerged in a light autumn coat, a lightly wound scarf in dark green tones mixed with silver. Small, unassuming silver accessories and touches to her outfits suited her remarkably well, all things considered.
"Not changing out of your school uniform?"
"Simpler than you might think," with a wave of my hand I transformed part of my clothing into a comfortable three-piece suit, my robe swapping for another one, simple and vaguely coat-like, all thanks to a great many artefacts of my own making — a small wrist-pocket with expanded space, for instance. "Sleight of hand, magic, and no wasted movements."
I even allowed myself a bit of a preening gesture, adjusting the collar of my robe-coat, at which Daphne barely managed to hold back a laugh, snorting into her fist instead.
"That's absolutely not your usual manner," Daphne took my arm. "Let's go, no point dawdling. We ought to make the most productive use of the day we can."
"Just say you want to bankrupt that sickeningly pink establishment for couples gone mad with sentiment."
"We're hardly going to eat all those pastries for free!" Daphne protested, mock-indignant.
And so we set off, chatting about nothing in particular, through Hogwarts' corridors, drawing ever closer to the main gates separating the castle's inner courtyards and grounds from the world outside. They stood open now, and the only thing barring our path to that longed-for freedom was Filch and Professor McGonagall. They were the ones checking the names of those permitted to visit Hogsmeade against those attempting to slip out of the castle without such permission — and there were more than enough of the latter.
"Onward, to meet the cakes and other desserts!" Daphne flung out an arm in a gesture presumably meant to symbolise allied forces bravely advancing on an enemy stronghold, but—
"Overdoing it a bit…"
"Haven't yet found sufficient reason or cause to relax my self-control…" she even mimicked Pansy's manner of tilting her nose up, high enough to threaten the Great Hall ceiling with scratches.
We left the castle grounds without any trouble, and blended just as easily into the crowd of students hurrying, on this overcast, misty autumn morning, to visit Hogsmeade. No matter the weather outside — rain, slush, endless mud underfoot, spring's blossoming grasses and trees, summer's blazing heat, or autumn's cool spell with its many-coloured leaves — Hogsmeade could always boast a touch of magical charm, never leaving visitors indifferent, and its wide variety of establishments, catering to every taste, only heightened the positive mood further still.
"…raspberry," we'd somehow ended up discussing various possible tea additions. "It has the brightest aroma."
"No, no," Daphne shook her head. "That's a thoroughly pointless addition, since it gives nothing besides aroma."
"But that's the most important thing, same as bergamot in Earl Grey."
"But better is something that also gives flavour."
"But raspberry gives flavour too."
"Of the seeds, certainly. To get the flavour of the raspberry itself, you'd need to strain the entire bush into your cup."
"You're exaggerating."
"Naturally," she nodded, a light breeze tousling her black hair.
"Your suggestions, then?"
"Lemon and mint."
Discussing this very pressing question — since we were headed to a café, after all — Daphne and I entered Hogsmeade. To our surprise, we were among the very first students to arrive on this fine day off, and the village streets were currently occupied mostly by adult wizards, while a handful of the more enterprising students were storming Honeydukes — the early bird gets the worm, as they say.
"First things first," I surveyed the nearby houses, shops, and people, "I suggest we handle all the necessary errands."
"Sound thinking. To Pissarro's!" Daphne tugged me along by the hand with the determination and force of an atomic icebreaker, though from the outside it probably looked like we were walking along quite casually, and, more importantly, unhurriedly, arm in arm.
Taking our time restocking on writing supplies and refreshing our inventory, we left the little shop. The village had already filled considerably with students, wandering the streets, chattering merrily about this or that. Plenty of the younger ones went dashing about clutching various sweets like precious bundles, radiating happiness and showing off to one another. Against that backdrop, the older students looked like pillars of calm, no longer especially interested in sweets, but rather in things like a sit-down at the Three Broomsticks, the Quidditch shop, the bookshop, Zonko's — no harm in playing a joke or two on one's fellow students — and so on.
"Hector!" my housemates came hurrying toward Daphne and me, smiling in greeting.
"You two are here already?"
The lads greeted Daphne in a manner not quite familiar, but no longer entirely formal either — after all, we'd spent hundreds of hours together in training and general company.
"Fancy joining us at the Three Broomsticks?" Hannah asked.
"Personally, since Justin isn't coming," I decided to answer first, "I'd rather spend our long-awaited outing in Hogsmeade with Daphne."
"My thinking's much the same," Daphne answered.
"Predictable," Hannah smiled, as did the others. "We won't keep you, then. But if you change your minds, we'll likely be at the Three Broomsticks until early evening. Do drop by if you fancy it."
The others headed off to the Three Broomsticks, while Daphne and I, she brimming with an enthusiasm she was trying, futilely, to conceal, made our way toward Madam Puddifoot's café.
"No disguises today?" I checked.
"I imagine there's no real need for such measures anymore."
"Fair enough. Only the blind, the deaf, and the thick don't already know about the two of us."
The café greeted us with its same sickeningly pink décor, tables almost entirely empty, and bored staff — two witches, dressed just as sickeningly in flowery cream-coloured robes, who plastered equally sickening smiles across their faces the moment they spotted us. And yet the whole dreadful combination, in my opinion, drew a faint smile from me rather than the predictable revulsion.
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