Hogwarts, Slytherin Common Room, September 2, 2017, 6:30 AM
Solus woke before dawn.
He sat up in bed.
Around him, the dormitory was silent. Albus was snoring softly in the next bed over. Thomas and Greengrass were fast asleep.
Solus got dressed quietly: black pants (trousers), white shirt, Slytherin robes. He made sure his wand was in the inner pocket of his robes.
'Never leave your wand where you can't reach it.'
Another lesson from Corvus.
He slipped out of the dormitory without making a sound.
The Slytherin Common Room was empty.
The green fire in the fireplace crackled softly. The windows showed the dark lake, where shadows of aquatic creatures moved sluggishly.
Solus sat on one of the leather couches (sofas) facing the fireplace.
He closed his eyes.
'Breathe.'
'Feel the magic.'
This was what Corvus had called Sensing. What Lucius had called Voluntas.
The Intent.
The ability to touch magic itself without casting a spell. To feel its flow. To understand its nature.
Solus took a deep breath.
And extended his awareness.
There.
Like an invisible current. Like electricity running through the castle walls.
The magic of Hogwarts.
Ancient. Powerful. Alive.
It was different from the magic of the outside world. More concentrated. More conscious.
'The Founders wove it into every stone,' Solus thought. 'That's why the castle feels. That's why it protects.'
But there was something else.
Something dark.
A stain on the flow.
'What is that?'
Before he could investigate further, he heard footsteps.
Solus opened his eyes.
An older boy was coming down the stairs from the fifth-year dormitory.
Tall. Black hair. Olive-colored (coloured) skin. Gray (grey), calculating eyes.
He wore his Slytherin robes impeccably pressed, and a Prefect badge gleamed on his chest.
Marco Zabini.
Stella's brother.
Marco stopped when he saw Solus.
"Early for a first year," he said with an accent that blended Italian and German, just like his sister's but more refined.
"Couldn't sleep," Solus replied.
Marco approached and sat on the opposite couch (sofa). He crossed his legs with military precision.
"Solus Gray," he said. It wasn't a question. "The Muggle-born who made the Hat decide in three seconds."
"News travels fast."
"In Slytherin, everything travels fast." Marco studied him. "My sister says you're interesting. Stella has a good eye for these things."
"And what do you think?"
"I don't know yet." Marco smiled faintly. "But I'll be watching."
Silence.
Then Marco asked: "Do you know what Slytherin really is?"
"A house for ambitious and cunning students."
"That's the simplified version." Marco leaned back. "Slytherin is a chessboard. Every student is a piece. And we are all playing for something."
"For what?"
"Influence. Power. Connections." Marco made a vague gesture. "Some play for their families. Others for themselves. And some..."
He stopped.
"Some what?" Solus pressed.
"Some play for people outside of Hogwarts." Marco looked directly at him. "Be careful, Gray. Not everyone in this house is what they seem."
Before Solus could reply, more footsteps echoed.
Other students were beginning to wake up.
Marco stood up.
"Some advice from a Prefect to a first year: keep your head down. Observe. Learn. And don't trust anyone too quickly."
"Not even you?"
Marco smirked.
"Especially not me."
And he headed back up the stairs to his dormitory.
. . . . . . .
Great Hall — 7:00 AM
Breakfast was organized chaos.
Students filled the tables, talking loudly. Owls flew through the hall delivering mail. Professors drank coffee at the High Table with expressions ranging from "ready for the day" to "why do I teach here?"
Solus sat at the Slytherin table next to Albus, who looked like he hadn't slept at all.
"You okay?" Solus asked.
"Didn't sleep," Albus admitted. "Kept thinking about... you know. About being in Slytherin."
"You're going to have to get over it."
"I know. It's just..." Albus lowered his voice. "My brother James sent me an owl last night. He said it was a prank. That the Hat made a mistake. That I should ask for a re-sorting."
Solus frowned.
"Can you do that?"
"No. But James doesn't know that. Or he doesn't care."
Solus studied Albus.
The boy looked small. Fragile. As if the weight of the Potter name was crushing him.
'He needs an anchor.'
"Albus," Solus said firmly. "The Hat doesn't make mistakes. Ever."
"How do you know?"
"Because the Hat was created by the Four Founders. It can see your mind. Your heart. Your potential." Solus leaned forward. "It put you in Slytherin because it saw something here. Something you need. Or something Slytherin needs from you."
Albus looked at him.
"Do you really believe that?"
"Yes."
Albus nodded slowly.
"Thanks."
Stella appeared out of nowhere, dropping into the seat across from them with toast in one hand and a book in the other.
"Morning, outcasts," she said cheerfully. "Ready for your first day of classes?"
"What is that?" Albus asked, pointing at the book.
"Modern Magical Theory: An Introduction, by Marcus Belby." Stella took a bite of her toast. "Found it in the library last night. It's fascinating. Talks about how magic has evolved in the last hundred years."
Solus looked at the book.
'Marcus Belby. The name sounds familiar.'
"Why are you reading that?" Albus asked.
"Because I want to know how magic works. Not just parrot spells." Stella grinned. "Did you know most modern wizards use only ten percent of their magic's potential?"
"Ten percent?" Solus leaned in, interested.
"According to Belby, yes. He says ancient magic was much more instinctive. Wizards felt the magic and shaped it. But after wands and standardized spells were created, wizards became... lazy."
'She's not wrong.'
Corvus had said exactly the same thing.
"Spells are crutches. True magic is pure Intent."
"Where did you find that book?" Solus asked.
"Magical Theory section. Third floor of the library." Stella closed the book. "Why? Want to read it?"
"Yes."
"Go tonight then. I'm already done."
Albus looked at both of them as if they were crazy.
"Are you two seriously going to read about magical theory on your first day?"
"Yes," Solus and Stella said in unison.
Albus sighed.
"I am definitely at the wrong table."
. . . . . . .
First Class: Potions — 9:00 AM
The Hogwarts dungeons were cold.
Not metaphorically.
Literally cold.
Solus could see his breath as he walked through the stone corridors toward the Potions classroom.
Albus walked beside him, shivering.
"Why do the dungeons have to be so cold?" he complained.
"Because we're under the lake," Solus replied. "And the water keeps the temperature low."
"How do you know that?"
"Basic physics."
"Physics?"
"Muggle science."
Albus blinked.
"Muggles study how the world works without magic. They call it science."
"That sounds... hard."
"It's fascinating."
They arrived at the Potions classroom.
The door was open.
Inside, there were two rows of workbenches, each with a pewter cauldron and shelves full of ingredients in jars.
Exactly as Corvus remembered it.
Well, almost.
The ingredients were more varied now. Jars labeled in languages Corvus hadn't known: Japanese, Swahili, Mandarin.
'The world has globalized. Even here.'
First-year students began to file in. Slytherin and Ravenclaw together, according to the schedule.
Solus chose a table at the back. Albus sat next to him.
Stella entered moments later and sat across from them next to a Ravenclaw girl with straight black hair and Asian features.
"Hi," the girl said shyly. "I'm Mei Zhang. Do you mind if I sit here?"
"Not at all," Stella replied. "I'm Stella. This is Solus. And that's Albus."
Mei nodded to each of them.
The door slammed shut.
And a man walked in.
The Potions Master wasn't what Solus expected.
Young. Maybe thirty-five years old. Messy brown hair. Three-day stubble. Rumpled robes that looked like they hadn't been washed in a week.
But his eyes.
His eyes were sharp. Calculating. As if they were assessing every student and finding them wanting.
"Good morning," he said with an accent Solus identified as Scottish. "I am Professor Alistair Croft. And this is Potions."
He walked to the front of the room, hands in his pockets.
"Some of you think Potions is boiling ingredients and hoping something useful comes out. You are wrong." His voice was dry. Bored, almost. "Potions is chemistry applied with magic. It is precision. Patience. And understanding."
He paused.
"If you lack any of those three things, you will fail this class. And I don't care."
Awkward silence.
"Now," Croft continued, "who can tell me what a Simple Cure Potion does?"
Several hands went up.
Croft pointed to a Ravenclaw girl.
"It heals minor injuries. Cuts, scrapes, bruises."
"Correct. Five points to Ravenclaw." Croft looked at the class. "And what is the most important ingredient?"
More hands.
Stella raised hers.
Croft pointed at her.
"Ginger root," Stella said confidently.
"Wrong."
Croft didn't sound annoyed. Just matter-of-fact. "Ginger root is an ingredient. But not the most important one. Anyone else?"
No one answered.
Croft sighed.
"The most important ingredient in a Simple Cure Potion is the water. Because without the correct base liquid, the other ingredients won't mix. And without mixture, there is no potion."
He paused.
"Potions aren't just ingredients. They are processes. And if you don't understand the process, you can have all the ingredients in the world and you will still fail."
Solus watched him intently.
'This man knows what he's doing.'
'He's boring. But competent.'
"Today," Croft said, "you will make a Simple Cure Potion. The instructions are on the board. You have one hour. Begin."
Solus read the instructions.
They were simple.
Too simple.
Water (1 pint / 500 ml). Ginger root (chopped). Daisy petals (dried). Murtlap essence. Stir clockwise five times. Simmer for ten minutes.
But there was something missing.
'It doesn't mention the exact temperature.'
'It doesn't mention water quality.'
'It doesn't mention the precise order of ingredients.'
These instructions were designed for students to fail.
Or at least, to produce mediocre potions.
'Croft is testing us.'
Solus looked around. The other students were already rushing to the shelves, grabbing ingredients without thinking.
Albus looked at him.
"Aren't you going to start?"
"In a moment."
Solus closed his eyes.
'Feel the magic.'
He extended his awareness toward the cauldron in front of him.
Pewter. Moderate heat conductor. Not ideal, but it works.
Then toward the ingredients.
Ginger root. Anti-inflammatory properties. But if chopped too fine, it loses potency.
Daisy petals. Stabilizer. But if added too soon, they burn.
Murtlap essence. The actual healing component. But it's volatile. Must be added at the end.
He opened his eyes.
"Albus."
"Yeah?"
"Get water. But not from the tap. From the pitcher in the corner."
"Why?"
"Because tap water has minerals that interfere with the potion. The pitcher has distilled water."
Albus blinked.
"How do you know that?"
"Observation."
Albus went to get the water.
Solus stood up and walked to the shelves.
He chose the ginger root with care. Not the biggest. Not the freshest.
The most balanced.
Then the daisy petals. Dried but not brittle.
Finally, the Murtlap essence. The oldest vial. Because essences improve with time.
He returned to his table.
Albus was already there with the water.
"Now watch," Solus said.
Solus worked with precision.
He heated the water to a simmer. Not boiling. Just hot.
He chopped the ginger root into medium chunks. Not too fine. Not too thick.
He added it to the water.
He waited three minutes.
'This isn't in the instructions. But it's necessary.'
Then he added the daisy petals. One by one. Letting each dissolve before adding the next.
He stirred. Not five times.
Seven.
'Five is too few.'
'Seven ensures complete mixture.'
He waited.
He watched the color (colour) of the water change from clear to pale yellow.
'There it is.'
Finally, he added three drops of Murtlap essence.
The potion shimmered.
And turned gold.
Solus turned off the heat.
"Done."
Albus was staring at him, jaw dropped.
"That was... how did you do that?"
"Logic."
Across the table, Stella had finished too. Her potion was yellow. Not gold, but close.
"Well done," Stella said, impressed. "Yours is better than mine."
"Yours is good too."
"But not perfect."
Solus shrugged.
Professor Croft walked between the tables, inspecting.
Most of the potions were murky brown. Some bubbled dangerously. One exploded, covering a Ravenclaw student in green slime.
Croft sighed.
"As expected. Widespread mediocrity."
He reached Solus's table.
He stopped.
He looked at the cauldron.
Then he looked at Solus.
"Who made this?"
"I did," Solus replied.
Croft pulled out a wand. He waved it over the potion.
A golden vapor rose up.
"Perfect," Croft muttered. "Absolutely perfect."
He looked at Solus with an expression that was part surprise, part suspicion.
"How?"
"I followed the instructions."
"Lie." Croft's voice was flat. "The instructions I gave produce mediocre potions. You modified the process."
Solus held his gaze.
"The instructions didn't specify the exact temperature. Nor the type of water. Nor the precise order. So I improvised."
Croft studied him for a long moment.
"Twenty points to Slytherin." He looked at Stella. "And ten points to Slytherin for Miss Zabini. Her potion is also superior."
He walked away.
"The rest of you: practice more. Class dismissed."
After class, Solus and Albus walked back to the Common Room.
"That was incredible," Albus said. "How did you know what to do?"
"I thought."
"But... where did you learn about potions?"
'In my second life.'
'Corvus was a Potions Master.'
But Solus couldn't say that.
"I read a lot over the summer."
"You read about potions?"
"Among other things."
Albus shook his head.
"You're weird, Solus Gray."
"Yes. You already told me that."
That night, Solus went to the library.
He found the book Stella had mentioned: Modern Magical Theory.
He sat at a secluded table and began to read.
The book was fascinating.
It spoke about how magic had evolved from medieval times to the present. How wands had standardized spells. How schools had systematized teaching.
But it also spoke about what had been lost.
"Ancient magic was chaotic but powerful. Wizards of that era didn't need spells. They only needed Intent."
Solus smiled.
'Someone finally understood.'
He kept reading until midnight.
Then he closed the book and returned to the Common Room.
Albus was already asleep.
Solus lay in his bed.
'First full day.'
'Twenty points to Slytherin.'
'Croft is watching me.'
'Good.'
'Let him watch.'
He closed his eyes.
And slept.