[ Location: The Dungeons - Potions Classroom ][ Date: September 5th, 1991 - Friday Morning ]
The dungeons were cold. Not "turn down the thermostat" cold, but "soul-sucking dementor" cold. It smelled of pickled slime and despair.
I sat next to Hermione—my designated academic carry. Shikamaru was at the back, presumably trying to blend into the shadows to nap. Harry and Ron were at the next table, looking like they were marching to the gallows.
The door banged open.
Professor Severus Snape swept into the room. His black robes billowed behind him with zero wind assistance.
'He definitely practices that in the mirror. "Turn, pause, glare." Drama queen.'
"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class," Snape whispered. His voice was silky, low, and terrified the first years into silence.
He started the roll call. He paused at Harry's name.
"Ah, yes," he said softly. "Harry Potter. Our new... celebrity."
Draco Malfoy snickered.
'Here we go. Bro is full on interrogation.'
"Potter!" Snape snapped. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Hermione's hand shot into the air like a rocket. I flinched. 'Girl, you're going to dislocate your shoulder.'
Harry looked blank. "I don't know, sir."
"Tut, tut. Fame clearly isn't everything."
Snape ignored Hermione's quivering hand. He grilled Harry on bezoars and monkshood. It was painful to watch.
"Sit down," Snape snapped at Hermione, who looked crushed.
"For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death."
Snape turned his gaze to the rest of the class. "Well? Why aren't you copying that down?"
There was a frantic scrabbling for quills.
"And you," Snape stopped at my desk. He looked down at me with eyes black as tunnels. "Frostwell."
'Daa fuck'
"Professor," I nodded politely.
"Tell me," Snape sneered. "If I asked you to brew a Cure for Boils, and you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire, what would happen?"
I blinked. I hadn't read the book.
'Think, Vivan. Chemistry. Heat + Volatile Organic Compound. Its gonna be Bad. let's answer it like how I did in my previous life'
"It would probably melt the cauldron, sir," I guessed. "And emit a toxic gas. Generally ruin everyone's day."
Snape stared at me. He looked disappointed I wasn't an idiot.
He said curtly. "Don't let it go to your head."
He swept away.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
"Lucky guess?" Hermione whispered.
"Educated guess," I winked. "I know my explosions."
The brewing started. It was a disaster. Seamus Finnigan nearly set his eyebrows on fire.
Suddenly, a hissing sound filled the room. Neville Longbottom had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted lump of slag. Potions sludge was spilling everywhere.
"Idiot boy!" Snape snarled, vanishing the potion with a wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"
Neville whimpered, boils popping up on his nose.
"Take him to the Hospital Wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he turned on Harry. "You, Potter. Why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought it would make you look good if he got it wrong? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."
"That's so unfair!" Harry argued.
"Don't push it," Ron hissed.
At the back of the room, I looked at Shikamaru. He had finished his potion perfectly in ten minutes and was currently balancing a quill on his nose.
'Of course. Potions is just cooking with dangerous ingredients. A ninja's specialty.'
[ Location: The Great Hall - Dinner ][ Time: 6:00 PM ]
"I'm telling you, it's a trap," I said, stabbing a potato.
"He challenged me!" Harry argued. "A Wizard's Duel. Midnight. Trophy Room."
"Harry," I sighed. "Malfoy is a coward. He won't show up. He'll tell Filch. You'll get caught. Gryffindor loses points. Everyone hates you. The end."
"I have to go," Harry insisted. "I can't let him think I'm scared."
"Men and their pride," Hermione huffed from beside me. "You mustn't go. You'll get us all into trouble."
"Us?" Ron frowned. "Who said you're coming?"
"I am coming," I announced. "Because someone has to drag your carcasses back to the dorm when you inevitably get lost."
"And me," Hermione stood up. "To stop you."
"Troublesome," Shikamaru muttered, face in his pudding. "Don't look at me. I'm sleeping."
[ Location: The Third Floor Corridor ][ Time: 11:45 PM ]
We were creeping down the dark hallway. Me, Harry, Ron, Hermione (who had gotten locked out of the common room), and Neville (who had forgotten the password).
"This is the Third Floor," Hermione whispered frantically. "It's out of bounds! Dumbledore said we'd die a painful death!"
"Relax," I whispered. "If we die, you don't have to take exams."
"That is not comforting!" she hissed, gripping my arm.
'She's scared. cute'
We reached the Trophy Room. Empty.
"He's late," Ron whispered, wand raised.
Meow.
We froze.
Mrs. Norris, the skeletal dust-colored cat, walked into the room. She looked at us with lamp-like eyes.
"Run!" Harry whispered.
We bolted. We ran blindly through corridors, ripping through tapestries.
"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Filch's voice wheezed from nearby. "ADOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"
We sprinted until we hit a door. Locked.
"We're done for!" Ron moaned. "This is the end!"
Hermione pushed him aside. "Oh, move over! Alohomora!"
The lock clicked. We piled inside and slammed the door shut, leaning against it, panting.
"We lost him," Harry wheezed. "He thinks... he thinks the door is locked."
"It was locked," Hermione snapped.
"And for good reason," I said, my voice dropping an octave.
I pointed behind them.
They turned slowly.
We weren't in a classroom. We were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor.
And standing in front of us was a dog.
A very big dog.
A dog that filled the entire space from floor to ceiling.
It had three heads.
Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes. Three noses, twitching in our direction. Three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellow fangs.
It wasn't attacking yet. It was just... surprised.
"Nice doggy," Ron squeaked.
"It's... standing on a trapdoor," Hermione whispered. "It's guarding something."
The dog—Fluffy—growled. It sounded like thunder.
"Run?" Harry asked.
"Run," I agreed.
We fumbled for the door handle.
ROAR.
The heads lunged.
'Not on my watch.'
[ Ability Active: Telekinesis. ]
I didn't try to push the dog. It weighed a ton. I pushed the door.
I slammed the door open with my mind just as the jaws snapped shut where Harry's head had been a second ago. We tumbled out into the hallway and sprinted.
We didn't stop running until we reached the Portrait of the Fat Lady.
[ Location: Gryffindor Common Room ][ Time: 12:15 AM ]
"What do they think they're doing?" Ron gasped, collapsing onto an armchair. "Keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?"
"You don't use your eyes, do you?" Hermione snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"
"I wasn't looking at its feet!" Ron shouted. "I was a bit preoccupied with its heads!"
"It was standing on a trapdoor," Hermione said. "It's guarding something."
She stood up, glaring at them. "Now, if you two don't mind, I'm going to bed before either of you come up with another clever idea to get us killed. Or worse, expelled."
She turned to leave, but paused, looking at me.
"You..." she hesitated. "You didn't run. You opened the door. I saw the handle turn before Harry touched it."
I shrugged, nursing my headache. "Must have been a draft."
She rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile. "Goodnight, Vivan."
"Night, Hermione."
She disappeared up the girls' staircase.
Harry turned to me. "So... we almost died."
"Yep," I said, checking my Mastery.
[ System Notice: Telekinesis Proficiency Increased. ][ Current Mastery: Level 4 (40%) ]
'Survived a Cerberus. Gained 4%. Not bad.'
"But we found out something interesting," I said, looking into the fire. "That dog is guarding something small. Something valuable."
"Like what?" Ron asked.
"Something someone would want to steal," I mused.
'The Philosopher's Stone. And I have a Quest to get it.'
"Go to bed," I told them. "We have flying lessons tomorrow. And I think Malfoy needs another... accident."
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