Hogwarts, Slytherin Common Room, September 9, 2017, 6:30 AM
The first full week at Hogwarts had established a pattern.
Solus woke at dawn. He dressed in silence. He went down to the empty Common Room and practiced (practised).
Sitting in silence.
Closing his eyes. Extending his awareness toward the flow of magic running through the castle stones.
'Breathe.'
'Feel.'
The magic of Hogwarts was like an invisible river.
But there was also that dark stain he had felt on the first day.
Today, Solus decided to investigate it.
He extended his awareness deeper. Followed the flow of magic down, toward the dungeons, toward...
'There.'
Something in the depths of the castle.
Something that didn't belong.
It wasn't evil.
It was... alien.
Like a parasite attached to Hogwarts' spine.
'What is that?'
Solus tried to go deeper, but the magic resisted. As if something were blocking him.
Wards.
'Someone sealed this.'
'Intentionally.'
He opened his eyes.
The green fire crackled softly in front of him.
'I need to explore physically. Sensing the Intent is not enough.'
'But I can't do it alone.'
'I need Stella and Albus.'
. . . . . . .
Great Hall, 8:00 AM
Monday breakfast was quiet compared to Friday.
No owl post. Just tired students eating before their classes.
Solus sat at the Slytherin table next to Albus, who was yawning over his oatmeal (porridge).
"Sleep well?" Solus asked.
"No. Thomas snores." Albus rubbed his eyes. "How is it that you always look awake?"
"Discipline."
"That sounds horrible."
Solus smiled faintly.
Stella arrived moments later, dropping into her seat with an expression way too animated for eight in the morning.
"Morning, outcasts," she said cheerfully.
"You're too awake," Albus muttered.
"I'm always awake. It's a gift." Stella took a bite of toast. "So, what's the plan for today?"
"Plan?" Albus asked.
"To search for the Chamber. Obviously."
Solus looked around. No one was paying attention.
"We can't search during the day. Too many students. Too many professors."
"Then at night?" Stella asked.
"No. The Prefects patrol. And Madam Pince probably put wards on the Restricted Section."
"Then when?"
Solus thought.
"Weekends. When most students are in Hogsmeade or on the grounds. We can explore the Common Room without drawing attention."
Stella nodded.
"Makes sense."
"But first," Solus continued, "we need a map of the castle. A real one. Not the one they gave us."
"Why?" Albus asked.
"Because the official map only shows the permitted areas. It doesn't show the hidden rooms. The secret passages." Solus looked at Stella. "Does your brother have one?"
"Probably. Marco knows everything about Hogwarts." Stella grinned. "But he won't lend it to me easily."
"Then we'll have to convince him."
. . . . . . .
Transfiguration Class, 9:00 AM
Professor McGonagall was exactly as the legends described her.
Strict. Demanding. Relentless.
"Transfiguration," she said as she walked between the tables, "is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. It requires absolute concentration. One mistake and you could turn your partner into a telephone permanently."
Several students laughed nervously.
McGonagall did not smile.
"It is not a joke, Mr. Finnegan." She looked at a Gryffindor boy. "Your uncle Seamus nearly blew himself up in his first year. The Finnegan family has a long history of... excessive enthusiasm."
More laughter.
"Today," McGonagall continued, "you will transform a match (matchstick) into a needle. It is the most basic exercise in Transfiguration. And if any of you fail..."
She paused dramatically.
"You will practice (practise) until you succeed."
She placed a box of matches on each table.
"Begin."
Solus studied the match in front of him.
Wood. Phosphorus at the tip. Simple.
Transfiguration: changing the fundamental structure of an object.
It is transmutative magic.
Corvus had been an expert in Transfiguration. Not with standardized spells, but with pure Intent.
'Feel the wood. Its structure. Its molecules.'
'Now imagine metal.'
'Cold. Hard. Sharp.'
'And command it to change.'
Solus raised his wand.
"Acus."
The match trembled.
It twisted.
And transformed into a perfect silver needle.
McGonagall passed by his table.
She stopped.
She picked up the needle and examined it under the light.
"Perfect," she said with a voice that sounded surprised. "Absolutely perfect. Ten points to Slytherin."
She looked at Solus.
"Is this your first time attempting Transfiguration, Mr. Gray?"
"Yes, Professor."
"Extraordinary."
McGonagall left the needle on the table. "Carry on."
She walked away.
But Solus saw her look back twice during the rest of the class.
'She is evaluating me.'
'Good. Let her evaluate.'
Beside him, Albus was struggling.
His match had developed strange metallic bumps. It wasn't a needle. It was... something.
"What am I doing wrong?" Albus whispered, frustrated.
"You're thinking too much," Solus replied. "Don't think about the spell. Think about what you want the match to be. Visualize it."
"I am visualizing it."
"No. You're visualizing the process. Visualize the result."
Albus tried again.
"Acus."
The match twisted.
And turned into a needle.
Crooked. Uneven.
But a needle.
Albus smiled.
"I did it!"
"Well done," Solus said.
McGonagall passed by again.
"Better, Mr. Potter. Five points to Slytherin."
. . . . . . .
Lunch, 12:30 PM
Stella was excited.
"Did you see that? McGonagall almost smiled when you transformed that match."
"She didn't smile," Solus said.
"Almost. Which for McGonagall is like a standing ovation." Stella took a bite of her sandwich. "You're making Slytherin look good."
"That's not my goal."
"I know. But it's happening anyway."
Solus looked toward the High Table.
The professors were eating and chatting among themselves. McGonagall was talking to Professor Longbottom. Professor Volkov was eating alone, reading a book.
And Professor Annan...
He was looking directly at Solus.
When their eyes met, Annan nodded slightly.
Then he went back to his food.
. . . . . . .
Free Period, 3:00 PM
After classes, Solus decided to explore the castle.
Not looking for the Chamber.
Not yet.
But familiarizing himself with Hogwarts.
With its corridors. Its stairs. Its secrets.
He walked through the floors. Passed the Defense classroom. Climbed toward the Astronomy Tower.
The stairs moved when he least expected it.
'Corvus hated this,' Solus thought with amusement. 'He said the moving staircases were Godric's whim.'
From the top of the tower, Hogwarts stretched out like a labyrinth of stone and magic.
The green grounds. The black lake. The Forbidden Forest in the distance.
'It is beautiful.'
'And dangerous.'
'Like everything worth having.'
"Nice view, right?"
Solus turned.
Marco Zabini was standing on the stairs, his Prefect robes impeccable and his expression neutral.
"Zabini."
"Gray." Marco climbed the last few steps and stood next to Solus. "Exploring?"
"Getting familiar."
"Smart."
Marco looked out at the grounds. "Hogwarts is bigger than it looks. There are places here that not even the professors know."
"Like which ones?"
Marco smiled faintly.
"If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret."
Silence.
Then Marco asked: "Is my sister bothering you?"
"No. Stella is... useful."
"That's a diplomatic way of saying it." Marco leaned against the railing (bannister). "She says you guys are looking for something. Something hidden in the castle."
Solus tensed.
"She told you?"
"No. But I know her. And I know that look." Marco looked at him. "Be careful, Gray. Hogwarts has secrets. And some secrets have teeth."
"I can handle it."
"That's what everyone says." Marco began to walk down the stairs. "But if you need help... or a map... just ask."
He stopped.
"Oh, and Gray. Rosier is watching you. I don't know why. But he is."
"I know."
"And?"
"And I'm watching him too."
Marco smirked.
"Good. Then you're learning."
And he went down the stairs.
. . . . . . .
Slytherin Common Room, 7:00 PM
That night, Solus sat in his usual spot in front of the fireplace.
Albus was upstairs, finishing his Herbology homework.
Stella was in the library, reading about magical theory.
Solus was alone.
And that was fine.
He needed to think.
First full week: done.
'I've stood out in three classes. McGonagall, Croft, and Volkov are watching me.'
'Annan knows about Corvus.'
'Maybe more than he admits.'
'Marco offered me help.'
'But I don't know if I can trust him.'
'And there is something dark under the castle. Something sealed.'
Too many things.
Too many moving pieces.
'I need to consolidate all this.'
'I need solid allies before making any big moves.'
"Gray."
Solus looked up.
A third-year boy was standing in front of him. Brown hair. Average build. Nothing memorable.
Except for his eyes.
Intelligent.
Calculating.
"Yes?"
"Hadrian wants to talk to you. Upstairs. Fifth-year Study Room."
Solus went on alert.
'There it is.'
'The formal invitation.'
"Now?"
"When you have time. No rush." The boy smiled. "Just... a conversation."
"Tell him I'll come Saturday."
The boy arched an eyebrow.
"Saturday?"
"I have homework to finish first."
A lie. But it established power.
'I don't come when you call.'
'I come when I'm ready.'
The boy nodded slowly.
"I'll tell him."
And he went up the stairs.
Solus leaned back on the couch (sofa).
He got up and walked toward his dormitory.
Albus was on his bed, writing on a parchment.
"Solus?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think I'm doing a good job? You know, in classes."
Solus sat on his own bed.
"You're improving. Every day you're better."
"But not like you. Or like Stella."
"You don't need to be like us. You need to be like you."
Albus looked at him.
"Is that enough?"
"More than enough."
Albus smiled faintly.
"Thanks."
Solus lay down on his bed.
'Albus needs confidence.'
'Not ability. Confidence.'
'That I can give him.'
'With time.'
He closed his eyes.
. . . . . . .
Interlude
Somewhere else in the castle, someone else was watching.
Hadrian Rosier was sitting in the Study Room, an Ancient Runes book open in front of him.
But he wasn't reading.
He was thinking.
'Solus Gray.'
'Muggle-born.'
'First year.'
'But...'
Rosier had been at Hogwarts for years. He had seen dozens of first-year students.
None were like Gray.
'The way he speaks. The way he thinks. The way he moves.'
'It's as if...'
'As if he were older than he looks.'
Rosier closed his book.
He took a blank parchment from his bag.
And began to write.
[Dear Minister,
As requested, I am reporting on the notable students of this year.
There is one in particular who deserves your attention: Solus Gray. First year. Slytherin. Muggle-born.
He has stood out in multiple classes. McGonagall mentions him in conversations with other professors. Croft gave him twenty points in his first Potions class. Volkov is watching him.
But the most interesting thing is his behavior (behaviour).
He doesn't act like a child his age. He is too controlled. Too calculating.
And there is something in his eyes...
Something I struggle to decipher.
I don't know what it means. But I think you should know.
I will continue observing.
Respectfully,H.R]
Rosier sealed the letter.
Tomorrow he would send it with his personal owl.
For now, he put the parchment in his trunk.
'Who are you really?'