On the way back to the surface, Murcus's affection for Daphne was obvious enough to make Roger Williams feel personally insulted. Compared with the bright-eyed little witch beside him, he seemed to have been reduced to Daphne's attendant in the merchief's eyes, and he shuddered with indignation at the thought.
Were mermen truly worth so little? When Murcus finally left, she gave Daphne a pearl bracelet and even invited her to visit the Selkie tribe often, while Roger looked down at the strip of seaweed around his waist and the Water-Ripple Grass tied to it, deeply aware of the difference between heaven and earth.
"Daphne, thank you," Roger said after they returned to the shore. The little girl's recklessness gave him a headache, but the fact that she had charged into the Black Lake after him still moved him.
"It's all right. We're friends," Daphne said, raising her fishtail with a cheerful flick. The potion would not wear off for another hour, and the terrifying flesh-eating eel seemed to have been completely forgotten, because her smile was still as bright as ever.
"Roger, can you give me the potion?" Daphne asked suddenly. Her eyes drifted toward the remaining bottles on the bank with open longing.
"These? Absolutely not," Roger said, shaking his head firmly. "Daphne, it's too dangerous beneath the Black Lake. I can't let you take that kind of risk."
"It's fine. Murcus will protect me," Daphne said with a confident smile. "She's the mermaid who brought us back up just now, and her voice is beautiful."
"Daphne, aren't you afraid of them?" Roger asked. He remembered how much she cared about appearances, so he could not understand how she had taken such a liking to the terrifying-looking merpeople of the Black Lake.
"Afraid?" Daphne thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. "They may not be pretty, but they're good people."
She loved the feeling of swimming freely through the water as a mermaid. More importantly, compared with the Black Lake mermaids, she felt as if she had suddenly become even more beautiful and outstanding.
"Look at this," Daphne said, shaking the pearl bracelet in delight. "Murcus promised to take me on an underwater adventure and even teach me the merpeople's language."
"Roger, once I learn it, I'll be able to speak underwater," she added with a laugh. Her excitement made it clear that no amount of warning was likely to stop her for long.
"All right, but you have to be careful," Roger said at last. He reluctantly handed the remaining three bottles of potion to Daphne, though his expression suggested he already regretted it.
"The potion only lasts four hours, so you must make good use of the time," Roger instructed her. "Also, write down the recipe properly. Don't rely on memory for anything involving underwater breathing."
"You're as nagging as my mum," Daphne said, rolling her eyes. She had barely reached out for the potion when Roger took it back again.
"Forget it. Not today," Roger said immediately. "I'll give you the potion after we return."
"I want it now," Daphne said.
She flicked her tail, sending a huge splash of water bursting up in front of Roger. Then she laughed triumphantly while he wiped his face with a grim expression.
"Don't even think about it," Roger said in a falsely fierce tone. Before the potion wore off, the two of them chased and splashed through the shallows of the Black Lake like children who had temporarily forgotten cold, danger, and homework.
By November, the Scottish Highlands had grown bitterly cold. Even with the strengthening effect of dragon blood, Roger had to wear a thick jumper and scarf, and he still felt the wind slipping through every possible gap in his clothing.
Most classes were tolerable, but Wednesday evening Astronomy was torture. Professor Sinistra, wearing an enormous wizard's hat, taught the students how to identify constellations through telescopes, and while the lesson itself was interesting, the weather made concentration nearly impossible.
The Astronomy classroom sat at the highest point of the castle, and the observation deck was open to the wind on all sides. With the cold Highland air cutting across the tower, Roger felt a strong desire to set himself on fire simply to warm up.
"Roger, there's a Quidditch match tomorrow. Are you going?" Daphne asked idly as she adjusted her telescope. Ever since the Black Lake began to freeze, she had not been able to visit the Selkie tribe, and her mood had clearly suffered for it.
"Quidditch?" Roger shook his head. By now, the entire school knew he was a young wizard who disliked Quidditch. "I still need to go to the library to look up information."
"The library?" Daphne exclaimed in surprise. "Roger, you're a Slytherin. How have you become so much like a Ravenclaw?"
"Daphne, I'm from Gryffindor, and I go to the library every day too," Hermione said beside them. Her nose was red from the cold, and she sneezed halfway through the sentence. "Achoo."
"Gryffindor," Daphne repeated, looking at Hermione with sincere amazement. "You are the least lion-like Gryffindor in the entire House."
"I agree," Roger said, nodding solemnly. He went to the library because he needed something, while Hermione seemed to want to read every book in the library simply because they existed.
"Tch. You have no right to speak," Daphne said, swiftly kicking Roger out of the discussion. Then she pulled Hermione slightly aside and asked, "Hermione, let's watch the Quidditch match together tomorrow."
"Together? Our Houses are playing against each other tomorrow," Hermione said, giving her a mischievous grin. "Are you going to cheer for Gryffindor?"
Daphne suddenly realised that their two Houses were rivals. It was strange, really; among the four Houses, the other three all seemed to hope Slytherin would lose.
If Roger had not made a few friends before the Sorting Ceremony, he would probably be trapped socialising only with Slytherins now. He glanced at Malfoy and his two lackeys nearby, and the future of his own House instantly looked even bleaker.
"Roger, you've been looking up Quidditch books lately," Hermione said, her eyes sharpening as if she had discovered a great secret. "Have you finally taken a liking to it?"
"I knew it," she said triumphantly before he could answer. "No wizard can resist the charm of Quidditch forever."
"No," Roger said at once, shaking his head. "I'm looking for information on Bowman Wright."
"The creator of the Golden Snitch," he added, not leaving them in suspense.
He took out the Golden Snitch he had been carrying with him. With practiced ease, he removed the wings, then carefully separated the Snitch into its inner and outer components.
"The Golden Snitch," Hermione said softly.
She picked up the flightless Snitch from Roger's hand. This was the first time she had seen one so closely, and her curiosity quickly overtook the cold.
"A magical alchemical product," Roger said.
He also took out the crystal box, the one he had found in Filch's office. Its engraved number still glinted faintly under the starlight.
"Are you studying how it flies?" Hermione asked, examining the part in her hand. She channelled a little magic into it, and the Golden Snitch's core began vibrating rapidly.
"Not yet," Roger said.
He took out the collector's edition Snitch and asked both of them to look closely for anything unusual. These past few days, he had researched nearly every piece of available information on Quidditch and magical alchemy from the thirteenth century to the present.
"There are only one hundred Golden Snitches made by Bowman Wright himself in official records," Roger said, turning the box around so they could see the engraving. "But this one is marked number one hundred and one."
"Could it be fake?" Daphne asked.
She took the box and examined it carefully, but found nothing obviously wrong. The workmanship was exquisite, and it looked nothing like a cheap counterfeit.
"I suspected that at first too," Roger said. "Then I wrote to a Quidditch collector, and he told me mine is real."
He could not help marvelling at wizards' obsession with Quidditch. "He even offered to buy it for one million Galleons."
"One million?" Daphne and Hermione exclaimed at the same time.
They handled the Golden Snitch much more carefully after that. Neither of them had expected the small golden sphere to be so valuable, and Daphne looked as if she wanted to put it back in the box immediately just to reduce the pressure.
"That isn't the important part," Roger said. He pointed to the mysterious patterns etched across the surface of the Snitch and frowned. "What matters are these winding, intersecting curves. They look like a map."
"Roger, doesn't it look like a rubbing?" Daphne asked.
She carefully returned the Golden Snitch to the box and let out a sigh of relief. "Holding it is really stressful."
"Yes," Roger said.
He unfolded the paper rubbing he had made, but just then a gust of wind swept across the rooftop. The paper snapped out of his hand and flew away into the darkness.
"Children, I believe this is still Astronomy class," Professor Sinistra said.
She raised her wand and used a Summoning Charm to retrieve the paper from the wind. The sheet drifted neatly into her hand, and Roger hurried forward with an apologetic expression.
"I'm sorry, Professor," he said quickly.
Fortunately, Professor Sinistra was kind enough not to deduct points from the three of them. She only nodded, then looked down at the pattern etched across the paper.
"Professor, do you recognise what's on there?" Roger asked at once when he saw her fall into thought.
"It looks like a star chart, but not an entirely accurate one," Professor Sinistra said. She pointed to several of the marks. "Look here. These points correspond to Sirius."
Roger looked up at the sky, then back down at the dots on the paper. The two looked completely different, and for a moment he could not make sense of the connection.
"It is mirrored," Professor Sinistra reminded him.
"Thank you, Professor," Roger said.
A flash of inspiration suddenly struck him. Professor Sinistra's casual reminder had given him the first real clue to solving the pattern on the Snitch.
"Roger, do you think this is a treasure map?" Hermione asked, looking curiously at the markings. She had not expected Bowman Wright to know so much about astronomy.
"It's been too long," Roger said with a sigh. "Bowman Wright lived around the thirteenth century, almost eight hundred years ago. Any treasure that existed has probably been eroded by time."
"Not necessarily," Daphne said, disagreeing at once.
"The wizarding world has plenty of spells that can preserve objects from the erosion of time," she continued. "For example, Hogwarts itself is an ancient magical ruin."
Daphne had been exploring the Black Lake with the merpeople and had learned a great deal about ruins.
.....
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