After curfew, we were all already in our dorm. I could hear Sebastian snoring softly again; he clearly had some sort of issue, as it echoed with relentless regularity. Theodore and Zabini had been asleep for ages, while I, as always, was drilling magic before bed.
This time, I was focusing on water—it was training for precision and affinity. "Aguamenti," I whispered without a wand. Mentally, I pushed a droplet of magic right to the tip of my finger. A thin stream flowed from it, which I immediately began to shape. First, I created a perfect circle, then a triangle, a square, and a rectangle. I moved on to a cylinder, and when that started to bore me, I formed various animals: a dog, a cat, or a cow in different sizes. I wasn't exactly a great talent when it came to art, but thanks to my willpower, the water sculptures looked exactly as I imagined them.
Finally, I created a smaller dragon, similar to the ones from Game of Thrones. I didn't have enough water for wings, though, so I whispered "Aguamenti" again. The dragon grew sturdier and spread its wings; I controlled it so that it appeared to be truly flying. Mentally, I was already feeling significantly fatigued, but a thought struck me—why not try an ice dragon, like the one the Night King had?
I concentrated on the element itself. Water was in constant motion, so I tried to draw the heat out of it, but that didn't work at all. Then I tried to force the water to simply stop. In that moment, my little dragon began to crumble, and I lost control over it. Shards of ice landed on my chest. It was safe, but my bed was soaked, so I focused on "pulling" the moisture back into myself.
It was slow going, but once I succeeded, I felt magically vital. Only my mind was brutally exhausted. I moved on to non-verbal and wandless Incendio. Fire isn't my affinity, so it drained my magic reserve incredibly fast. The bed warmed up a bit thanks to the training, but it wasn't long before I was completely spent. I quickly ran through Occlumency—tidying up memories, checking both outer and inner defenses—and after a moment, I drifted off.
Completely exhausted, I departed for the realm of Morpheus.
***
In the morning, I woke up feeling exceptionally rested. My muscles were burning, but my magic was regenerated, so I felt great. After a quick wash, I joined the others who, as usual, were waiting for me in the common room. We greeted each other, and except for Draco, everyone looked fine.
Before long, we were tucking into food in the Great Hall. Today, a killer combination awaited us: a double period of History of Magic, followed by a double of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and finally, two hours of Potions... Only Greengrass, Potter, Draco, and Granger were likely looking forward to those. Ugh. Potions.
In Binns' classes, I could easily continue my water precision training. I could even do it right over my desk, since he almost never notices the back rows. To be honest, I strongly doubt he remembers the students' names. I'd bet my life he has no idea who is actually sitting in that classroom.
Quirrell will be explaining vampires again, and then those Potions at the end... I should be good at them, really, but they just bore me so incredibly much. Sigh.
After a while, however, a serious-looking owl descended directly toward me. It immediately occurred to me that this was the expected mail from the Ministry of Magic. When it landed, I saw that I wasn't mistaken. A large purple seal with the letter "M" and an address written in my name. Driven by curiosity, I tore the envelope open in a second and started reading. Meanwhile, the owl took a piece of bacon and flew away.
***
Dear Mr. Patrik Evan Rosier,
Allow me, on behalf of the entire wizarding community, to express my deepest appreciation. Your vigilance and courage, demonstrated in the exposure of the unregistered Animagus and criminal Peter Pettigrew on the grounds of Hogwarts, have not gone unnoticed.
I hereby officially inform you that, by decision of the Wizengamot, you have been awarded one of our highest national honors:
THE ORDER OF MERLIN, SECOND CLASS
This award is a token of gratitude for your extraordinary service to the wizarding world. The formal investiture ceremony will take place on August 15th at 2:00 PM at the Ministry of Magic. This ceremony will also include the presentation of a financial reward in the amount of 2,000 Galleons.
Your actions are proof that justice will always find a way when aided by wizards as capable as yourself. It is my honor to be able to present this award to you in person.
Yours sincerely,
Cornelius Fudge
Minister for Magic
***
"Oh, fuck," slipped out of my mouth in shock. If they discussed it before the entire Wizengamot, my name definitely hadn't remained a secret. Soon everyone would know who caught that fucking rat Pettigrew.
"What happened, Patrik?" Agnes asked immediately with concern, while the others waited tensely for my answer. Only Tobias continued to enjoy his sausages, undisturbed and content.
They had completely ignored Fred and George, who had helped me. Or at least, there wasn't a word about them in the letter. Was it because of that special edition, or did they not consider their help at all? The Weasleys had vanished from the school even before the special edition of the Daily Prophet came out.
"Even if they ignored them, I'm definitely giving them half the Galleons," I promised myself silently.
"Patrik?" Agnes prompted.
"I got a message from the Ministry. It's likely the whole Wizengamot already knows I was behind Pettigrew's capture," I replied in a whisper.
I noticed Parkinson immediately prick up her ears, and even Davis was inconspicuously craning her neck in our direction.
"You caught Pettigrew?" Draco asked, shocked.
I nodded.
"Yes, but drop it until we're in private."
Everyone just nodded mutely, and we continued breakfast in silence. Before we left the Hall, I noticed that both Quirrell and Dumbledore were watching me. The Headmaster managed to give me a subtle nod before the doors closed behind us. By then, we were finally heading to History of Magic.
***
I practiced water magic through the entire double period of History of Magic. About half the class was watching me, while the rest were asleep. I didn't dare do it in Defense Against the Dark Arts, though, so I chose to listen to the stuttering Quirellmort instead. When that finally ended, we headed to Snape's Potions.
It seemed to me that Potter was starting to gain Snape's favor. The Professor was acting slightly more lenient toward him. Few would notice, but anyone who had observed their dynamics since the start of the year had to see it. Potter likely noticed it too, because he was visibly trying even harder. If it keeps going like this, I'll certainly pitch my idea to both Draco and Potter and we'll split the profit.
Given my distaste for Potions, I'll be glad if I get an "Outstanding" on my O.W.L.s, but I'm definitely not going on to N.E.W.T. level. I was sure of that.
Oh well, everyone has a talent for something else. Even if I turned out to be useless at Potions later on, Draco would surely back me up like a good cousin. Or I'll simply pay for someone else's talent. I'd be like Tesla and Edison—I didn't need the recognition; I needed the money.
Finally, after handing in our Wiggenweld Potion (part of which we "nicked" again), we headed to lunch. Draco immediately started piling a steak with roasted potatoes and beans onto his plate, while I, inspired by Agnes, took pancakes with maple syrup. The moment he noticed, he looked completely betrayed, which made the others burst out laughing.
I just shrugged. "The occasional sweet lunch won't kill you, Draco."
Though he looked disappointed, he tucked into his steak with gusto anyway. We continued our lunch and quiet conversation, even though the Great Hall was noisy as always. When it came time for dessert, I took a piece of fruit tart. While I ate one slice, Tobias was already shoveling his fourth chocolate pudding.
"Tobias, slow down," Theo said, watching his pace with amusement mixed with a bit of disgust. "If you keep eating like this, you really won't be able to dodge Draco's spells. You'll have the dimensions of a medium-sized troll."
Tobias just licked his spoon and didn't even look at him. "I know Protego, don't I? And why do you care? Worried there won't be any left for you?"
"I'm worried we'll have to roll you to the common room," Theo snapped with a smirk. "You look like you're about to explode. You've even got pudding behind your ears."
"At least I'm not a scrawny ghoul," Tobias muttered with his mouth full and continued eating.
I saw a scowling Snape approaching us. He walked with a brisk, tense stride, his cloak billowing behind him, and I noticed Dumbledore was watching us too. I started to get a bad feeling.
He stopped right in front of us and stared intently into my eyes. The entire Slytherin table went quiet; everyone waited tensely for him to speak.
"Mr. Rosier," he spoke quietly, "put down your cutlery and follow me. Immediately."
I looked at him in surprise—he had never spoken to me so sharply. Without question, I followed him out of the Hall, feeling curious gazes boring into my back. As soon as the doors closed behind us, he led me into the dungeons, toward the Potions classroom. I was curious, but I waited patiently for him to speak. It had to be serious.
Before long, we were in the deserted classroom. He gestured for me to sit, and I obeyed without a word. For a moment, he stared at me with his pale face, but I let him have the first word.
"Patrik, listen to me carefully," Snape began. It had to be truly serious if he dropped my surname. "I received an urgent message from St. Mungo's. Your aunt was brought there an hour ago."
"What?!" I jumped to my feet immediately.
"There was a magical attack. A severe magical attack," he paused for a moment, but before I could press him, he continued: "Her condition is critical; the Healers are doing everything they can."
"Mulciber," the thought hit me instantly. My knuckles turned white from how hard I was clenching my fists, my nails digging painfully into my palms.
Snape took a step toward me, placed a hand firmly on my shoulder, and spoke in a slightly softer voice: "Control yourself, Mr. Rosier; your magic is leaking from you. Your aunt will surely be fine."
Only after his words did I realize how the air in the room was vibrating. Empty potion vials were shaking, and one of them shattered with a crack. I focused on my breathing to pull myself back together. Once I was somewhat calm, though still full of suppressed hatred, I wanted details.
"What happened?"
He watched me for a moment before explaining: "Officially, it is still under investigation. Unofficially, according to the Headmaster's sources, someone tried to murder her in Knockturn Alley. She was hit by a Confringo curse from the side, at almost full strength. According to witnesses, she only noticed it a fraction of a second before impact, and her Protego wasn't powerful enough, so it only dampened the force of the explosion. She is fighting for her life, and we will know the outcome in a few hours."
"I want to go to her. Now," I decided immediately.
"The Headmaster expected as much. You have his permission, but not yet. At the moment, you would only be a hindrance at St. Mungo's."
My magic began to leak again. I struggled to get it under control, along with my terrified and hateful thoughts. Once I calmed down again, I blurted out: "When, Professor?!"
"Do not raise your voice at me, Mr. Rosier," he replied with a frown, but immediately added: "In two hours, I can take you to St. Mungo's."
He saw that I wanted to object immediately, so he cut me off: "You are a Slytherin! Act like it. You won't help her if you keep losing your nerve every five minutes! She will be fine. Have faith in her, Rosier!"
Inhale, hold, exhale. Inhale, hold, exhale. Inhale, hold, exhale.
I repeated it a few times, and when I was sure I was at least outwardly composed, I asked him: "So, here in two hours then, Professor?" He nodded silently, so I turned to leave.
I felt his gaze on my back, but I thought only of my hatred and terror. I hadn't even known my aunt for a year, but I definitely didn't want to lose her. I was certain I would kill anyone who had a hand in her attempted murder... and if she died in that hospital, I couldn't even imagine what I would do.
I felt my magic vibrating with hatred again. A suit of armor I passed collapsed to the floor with a crash, so I had to breathe again. I felt like smashing something to pieces. I thought about training in the Room of Requirement, but I couldn't afford to exhaust myself magically now. Who knows what the situation at St. Mungo's would be like, or if an assassination attempt would be waiting there for me as well. I needed to save my strength.
I didn't feel like going to the common room or the Room of Requirement where the others would be waiting for me. I didn't want to answer any questions, so I spent the next two hours just wandering through Hogwarts until it was time.
Five minutes before the limit, I was already standing outside Snape's classroom. Without hesitation or knocking, I entered boldly. Snape was waiting behind his desk. He didn't say a word of reprimand; he saw my expression, so he just stood up and motioned for me to follow him into his private quarters.
I paid absolutely no attention to the interior. The only thing that interested me was the fireplace in the center of the room, next to which stood a jar of green powder.
"You must say exactly: St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, London," Snape instructed as he handed me the bowl.
I didn't wait and stepped into the fireplace. I grabbed a handful of powder and threw it at my feet. "St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, London!" I shouted in a firm voice.
Everything began to spin. After a while, the movement stopped, and I found myself in one of the massive fireplaces in a huge, chaotic hall. I immediately smelled the scent of disinfectant, potions, and parchment. I stepped out. Snape emerged from the adjacent fireplace a moment later with a dark look. He nodded for me to follow him and walked straight toward the reception desk.
I desperately hoped Vespera was still alive.
***
Author's note:
Bones did say we could use a ceremonial mask if we wanted to remain anonymous... but somewhere along the line, things went sideways. Is our MC becoming the poster boy for the Dark Side? Or was Fudge just desperate to highlight his own success? Who knows...
Vespera has grown on me just as much as she has on our MC. What do you guys think? Will she make it?
***
Step into the Restricted Section
The shadows are shifting, and the story goes much deeper... If you can't wait for the next update, Advanced Chapters are already waiting for you.
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Upcoming Chapters – Already Written:
46. The Unseen Blade
47. The Blood Connection
48. The Ghost of a Friend
49. Hypothetical Questions
50. Ancient Crimes and Modern Recipes
51. The Smell of Teen Spirit and Dark Arts
52. More Than Just a Name
53. The Rat's Final Kiss
54. Deus Vult
55. The Underworld Gambit
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