The Charms classroom hummed with anticipation as Professor Flitwick prepared to teach Wingardium Leviosa. Arthur, surrounded by enthusiastic classmates, immersed himself in the delicate art of wand movements and incantations.
"Swish and flick, everyone! Precision is key," exclaimed Professor Flitwick, guiding the class through the levitation spell.
Feathers danced, quills soared, and the room brimmed with magical energy. In the midst of the enchanting lesson, Arthur focused intently on mastering the subtleties of the charm, determined to grasp its intricacies.
In the aftermath of the Charms class, Arthur found himself engaged in casual conversations with his fellow Slytherins. Draco, ever eager to discuss magical prowess, shared his insights about the levitation spell.
"Leviosa is elementary magic, but it lays the foundation for more intricate spells. Precision is everything, Reeves," Draco remarked, a subtle challenge in his tone.
Amid the discussions, whispers of an upcoming Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin circulated. Draco, a fervent supporter of the Slytherin team, expressed his anticipation.
"You'll witness true skill on the Quidditch field. Gryffindor may boast, but Slytherin will triumph," Draco declared confidently, a spark of rivalry evident in his eyes.
The buzz of excitement surrounding the recent Charms class was palpable. However, a distinct undertone of disdain caught Arthur's attention as he heard Ron Weasley, a Gryffindor, expressing his discontent.
"Can you believe that Hermione Granger? Always showing off, trying to make everyone look bad," Ron grumbled to his friend. "She's a real know-it-all, isn't she?"
Harry Potter, Ron's companion, offered a more measured response, "I think she's just trying to help. She's pretty smart, you know."
But Ron was unconvinced, "Help? No one asked for her help. We don't need her sticking her nose into everything."
....
In the dimly lit Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Quirrel's stammering voice filled the air as he continued his lecture on magical creatures. The topic of the day: trolls. He emphasized their penchant for lurking in dark and concealed places, especially dungeons.
Draco and Arthur exchanged glances, absorbing the information, but it seemed Arthur's mind was elsewhere. As the class concluded and students filed out, Quirrel called Arthur back for what he called "a quick chat."
Quirrel, wearing his turban, approached Arthur with a gleam in his eyes. "Reeves, I've been thinking about our previous conversation. Have you considered my offer? I believe we could accomplish great things together."
Arthur, maintaining a cautious demeanor, responded, "Professor, I appreciate your interest, but I need more time to think about."
Quirrel chuckled, his stammer momentarily fading. "Take your time, Reeves. Although I must warn you, my patience is wearing thin. But remember, opportunities like this don't come often."
As Arthur left the classroom, the weight of Quirrel's words lingered. The prospect of learning unconventional magic from a professor with a mysterious background intrigued him, yet caution and uncertainty clouded his thoughts.
...
"It's Halloween, Arthur! Why waste it in bed? You're missing out on all the fun."
As Arthur decided to skip dinner on Halloween night, Draco, ever nonchalant, dismissed his concerns, insisting on enjoying the festivities.
Arthur, looking contemplative, replied, "I just don't feel up to it tonight. There's something off."
Heading toward the Slytherin common room, Arthur took an unusual route that passed in front of the girls' bathroom. It was then that he heard the muffled sounds of someone in distress. Pausing in front of the bathroom door, he recognized Hermione's voice, choked with tears.
"Leave me alone, please," Hermione's plea echoed through the door.
As Arthur approached the distressed Hermione's door, he hesitated before gently knocking. "Hermione, it's me, Arthur. I heard you... Are you okay?"
Hermione's tearful voice came through the door, "I just need some time alone, Arthur.
Arthur hesitated for a moment before slipping a comforting handkerchief under the door. "Take your time," he whispered softly before continuing on his way.
As he distanced himself from the girls' bathroom, an unusual scent caught Arthur's attention. It was a scent foreign to the polished corridors of Hogwarts—a scent that hinted at something more primal, almost beast-like.
As Arthur followed the unusual scent through the dungeons, he stumbled upon a chilling scene. A troll, massive and menacing, had found its way into Hogwarts. The echoing sounds of destruction and terrified screams filled the air.
The source of the screams became clear as Arthur moved closer, revealing a peculiar trio—Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Their expressions ranged from determination to apprehension as they confronted a creature of mythical proportions. The troll, unleashed within the confines of Hogwarts, became an unwitting participant in this unexpected Halloween spectacle.
"Ron, do something!" Hermione's urgency echoed through the corridor as Ron hesitantly attempted spellcasting, his incantations mingling with the distant cheers of the feast.
"I'm trying!" Ron's voice strained with determination, creating a discordant harmony with the rumbling of the troll.
"The spellbook! Swish and flick!" Hermione's guidance resonated through the chaos, her voice rising above the tumult.
As Arthur moved forward to lend a hand, he noticed a mysterious shadow slinking away down the corridor. Intrigued, he decided to pursue it, guided by an instinct he couldn't quite comprehend.
As he continued his pursuit, the shadow weaved through the labyrinthine halls, flickering in and out of sight. Arthur felt an odd tension in the air, as if the castle itself held its breath. The air was charged with an unusual energy, heightening his senses and deepening the sense of mystery that shrouded the night.
Arthur, rounding the corner, caught sight of Snape hunched over, clutching his leg with a pained expression. The dim light accentuated the grimace etched on Snape's face, hinting at the severity of his discomfort. Concern etched across Arthur's features, he hesitated for a moment, debating whether to approach or remain concealed.
The wince of pain on Snape's face was evident as he started to move, attempting to navigate the corridor despite the evident struggle. Arthur, unable to ignore the obvious distress, approached cautiously. "Professor Snape, are you alright?" he ventured, his voice laced with genuine worry.
The once austere Potions Master seemed vulnerable in the dimly lit corridor, his usually controlled demeanor shattered by unseen forces.
"Professor Snape?" Arthur's voice cut through the tense air.
Snape's eyes darted toward Arthur, a mix of surprise and resentment in their depths. "What are you doing here?" he hissed, his words laden with an intensity that hinted at a hidden struggle.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Arthur offered, his initial reservations overridden by a genuine desire to assist.
Snape's icy gaze bore into Arthur's, a silent battle of wills transpiring between them. "Help? No," Snape retorted, masking his pain behind a veil of disdain.
The deafening sounds of the troll's furious growls echoed through the empty corridors of Hogwarts, reminding them of the situation at hand.
Snape, his face contorted with annoyance, quickly processed the information Arthur provided about the troll's location. Without wasting a moment, Snape headed purposefully towards the girls' bathroom, his black robes billowing behind him.
"Stay here," Snape instructed tersely, his voice cutting through the tense atmosphere. Arthur, left alone in the dimly lit corridor, felt a surge of apprehension as he awaited Snape's return.
The distant echoes of the troll's growls persisted, a constant reminder of the imminent danger lurking within the confines of the bathroom. In the solitude of the corridor, Arthur strained to catch any signs of Snape's or any progress, the passing seconds amplifying the weight of uncertainty.
As Snape's silhouette disappeared around a corner, Arthur stood vigilant, grappling with a sense of helplessness. The urgency of the situation hung heavy in the air, and the occasional reverberations of the ongoing struggle behind the bathroom door only intensified his unease.
Snape returned with a slightly disheveled appearance, the lines of irritation etched on his features. Arthur, who had been waiting with a mix of curiosity and anxiety, couldn't help but notice the shift in Snape's demeanor. The atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension as Snape's gaze flickered towards Arthur.
"How did it go, Professor?" Arthur inquired nervously, sensing that the situation had taken a turn for the worse.
Snape, his usual stoic expression marred by annoyance, spoke with thinly veiled disdain. "The troll was knocked before any of the professors arrived. Foolish Gryffindors," he sneered, casting a disparaging glance at the absent trio.
As Snape winced, his leg clearly causing him discomfort, Arthur couldn't resist asking about the details. "What happened to your leg, Professor?"
"Blasted dog." Snape's dark eyes pierced through the dimness, catching Arthur off guard. "And what, pray tell, were you doing here?" Snape countered, his tone sharp and probing.
Caught in the scrutinizing gaze of the Potions Master, Arthur hesitated before explaining, "I saw someone heading in this direction and-."
"-and you thought it would be best to pursue", Snape sneered. "Sometimes I wonder if you're actually a Slytherin."
"Um.... Professor. You mentioned a dog just now. Would you be referring to the Cerberus?"
"You are too oblivious for a Slytherin."
It was then that Arthur noticed that they were standing in front of the door that led to the third floor corridor.
"Whatever you saw here tonight is to remain undisclosed," Snape instructed.
....
As Snape and Arthur walked through the dimly lit corridors, the tension between them hung thick in the air. Snape's stern countenance remained unchanged, his dark eyes scrutinizing Arthur's every move. The rhythmic echo of their footsteps accentuated the silence, broken only by Snape's occasional sighs of frustration.
The strained atmosphere intensified with every step, as if the walls themselves were privy to the unspoken conflict. Arthur, feeling the weight of Snape's disapproval, searched for the right words to break the silence. However, Snape's cold demeanor deterred any attempt at conversation.
The dim glow of lamps cast shadows on the stone walls, reflecting the unspoken tension that permeated the space. Arthur couldn't shake the feeling that Snape knew more than he let on, adding an extra layer of unease to the already palpable atmosphere.
As the reached the entrance of the Slytherin common room, they approached a seemingly ordinary stretch of stone wall, which started to open as Snape said the password. (Salazar)
Before the door swung open, Snape offered a cryptic piece of advice, his voice low and measured, "Remember, appearances can be deceiving. Trust not what is overt but what lies beneath the surface." With that, Arthur entered the Slytherin common room, the door closing behind him.