Faner's Money

Breeze was sick. It had come on very suddenly, perhaps caused by the earlier disturbance in his Natural Magic Power. As he got out of bed, a heavy feeling settled over him, making it hard to catch his breath.

It was still early. Even the young ladies and gentlemen who had to get up early for the upcoming little party were still in bed.

Breeze glanced at his roommate Zabini, who had been woken by the sound of him getting up. "I'm not feeling well, so I got up a little early. You can go back to sleep."

But after he spoke, Breeze felt that his throat was terribly uncomfortable, and his voice was hoarse. He seemed weak all over, with a fragile air about him. The tip of his nose, the corners of his eyes, and his cheeks were all red, making him look rather pitiful.

He struggled through a yawn, finding the sensation rather novel.

So this is what being sick feels like. It's not very pleasant.

He got up to wash. Zabini glanced at him, checked the time, and went back to sleep. Whether he really managed to fall asleep, Breeze couldn't tell.

The Slytherin common room was still deserted after Breeze washed up. He dressed a little more warmly, gathered up the various essays he had left unfinished after class, slung his bag over his shoulder, and headed out.

It's still curfew. Hopefully no one else will be around, given that I'm sick.

"What are you doing, Mr. Order? Perhaps now isn't the time to leave the common room. Or perhaps you'd like to cook slugs for your Head of House..."

Well, what you wished wouldn't happen always did. Breeze thanked him for that.

"Sorry." Breeze tried to make his voice even hoarser. "I think I'm sick. I feel awful, so I was going to the Hospital Wing on the second floor. I hope Madam Pomfrey can help me."

Sick?

Snape examined Breeze's face closely, then said coldly, "Stop sniveling."

With that, he turned and strode away, his wide black cloak almost catching Breeze in the face as he passed.

Breeze rubbed his eyes and headed for the second floor. Fortunately, he didn't run into anyone—not even Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat.

"Oh, what's wrong with you?"

Breeze knocked on the Hospital Wing door, and a stern-looking woman soon came out. She swept him with a scrutinizing gaze, her tone somewhat cool, but when she saw how red his face was, a hint of pity flashed in her eyes, and her expression softened.

"All right, I thought someone was trying to play a prank on me. It would have been a joke, but I'm glad you thought to come for help right away."

"Come along. One bottle of Cold Remedy Potion should make you feel better. You wouldn't want to miss the weekend."

Breeze followed Madam Pomfrey into the Hospital Wing. The air in there was quite fresh, without much of a disinfectant smell. He wasn't sure whether wizards even used the stuff, but the cool air helped his feverish head feel a little better.

"Drink this. There's bound to be a minor side effect: steam will come out of your ears. Shall I have breakfast brought for you? A little snake probably wouldn't want to be laughed at, and the staff are allowed to help you."

Madam Pomfrey was clearly a Slytherin. She had impeccable manners, but she was different from the Slytherins of today—less greedy for power and profit, and more compassionate. She was an unusual Slytherin, and Breeze liked her very much.

"Ugh..." It was so bitter. Who had made this potion? It was terribly crude.

"Oh, it seems Snape's potion-making skills have improved again. I've never seen such a basic Cold Remedy Potion refined to this degree. It's working so quickly, and the steam coming from your ears is already coming out faster."

Madam Pomfrey looked at Breeze's disgusted expression with amusement, but the unnatural flush had faded, so she felt reassured.

She tapped the nearby table with her wand. A house-elf wearing an apron soon appeared with a pop.

"Honored Madam Pomfrey, what would you like Dobby to do?"

"Oh, and you too, young wizard sir! Dobby made the apple pie last night!"

Madam Pomfrey glanced at Breeze. "Tell Dobby what you'd like to eat. I have to go get some potions from Snape in a moment. And once you've finished eating, please leave. Don't touch anything, either."

With that, Madam Pomfrey left.

"My name is Breeze Order. Dobby, could you bring me something light? You can see the steam coming from my ears, so I shouldn't eat anything too rich or greasy."

"Oh, of course! Dobby can take good care of the sick Mr. Breeze Order!"

As soon as Dobby finished speaking, he vanished. It was a special kind of magic that house-elves could use. Wizards had a similar ability called Apparition, an advanced form of magic. You had to study for the Apparition test with the Department of Magical Transportation at the Ministry of Magic. It was dangerous, too: one careless mistake could result in Splinching, severe injury, or even death.

Wizards couldn't Apparate at Hogwarts, though house-elves could.

"Mr. Breeze Order, please enjoy your breakfast! Dobby prepared it especially for you!"

Dobby suddenly appeared, and the table was now covered with food. Breeze's eyes lit up, and his fondness for Dobby grew a little.

"Thank you, Dobby. You're a wonderful elf. Could you also pack me some snacks? I'm going to study somewhere quiet in a while, and I might not have time for lunch."

Dobby's eyes filled with tears at Breeze's words. He clutched his old apron, excited and nervous. "Oh, Mr. Breeze Order praised Dobby! None of the other house-elves get praised like that. Dobby will prepare the very best snacks. It's an honor!"

With a pop, Dobby vanished again.

Breeze resigned himself to the task of replenishing his energy. Soon, he was sitting comfortably nearby, taking a rest. The clean plates on the table displayed his "glorious achievements."

When Dobby appeared again, Breeze received a large bundle of snacks. After saying goodbye to Dobby, he left the Hospital Wing and headed toward the painting of the Great Tree on the Seventh Floor.

Quite a few students were already up and about. Most were Ravenclaw students. Some who knew Breeze greeted him warmly, their eyes twinkling as they watched him go with steam coming out of both ears. Breeze returned each greeting.

They probably thought he was going to the Ravenclaw common room to read. Even sick, he was so studious. He should have been one of their Ravenclaw Students, the wretched Slytherins!

When Breeze cautiously reached the painting of the Great Tree, he tapped the stone bricks with his wand and went to the East Tower. He had agreed on it with Faner the day before, and Breeze couldn't go back on his word. As for the little Slytherin party...

Come on, who would go to a fancy "private party" with steam coming out of both ears? Besides, I don't even have dress robes.

Breeze was already seated at the sturdy wooden table on the second floor of the Owlery in the East Tower. The chair was surprisingly comfortable.

At the table, Breeze carefully wrote his Potions Class essay. He had already finished most of the assignments from his earlier classes. He would only revise them if he came up with more ideas. The reason he wasn't writing in the library was that he didn't want to limit himself to books. He was trying to use his own understanding to explain the relationship between Cure for Boils and slugs.

"Oh, you're so boring. You came here and didn't even talk to me."

Faner hung his head and stared at Breeze with drooping yellow eyes, looking like a jilted lover.

"If you're bored, you can read a book. I'm a student right now. Studying is the only way I can become stronger."

"All right, but you can't expect a snake to read. It would be completely useless to me..." Faner lay down beside Breeze's hand. Then, when he noticed Breeze's wand, he became interested.

Breeze looked at him helplessly, took off his wand, and handed it over.

"Don't bite it, and don't spit lamp oil on it."

But contrary to expectations, Faner didn't examine the wand. Instead, he crawled onto Breeze's wrist and curled up like a bracelet.

"If you're really bored, you could try arranging the lamp oil you spit out, then making it burst into different shapes. Maybe you could brag about that."

Breeze shook his head and continued writing his essay, while Faner's eyes lit up.

"You really are a genius. I never would have thought of that!"

As he spoke, Faner happily slithered off to practice nearby.

Breeze smiled. Not long afterward, he began leisurely gathering up his essay drafts, then got up to look through the books left behind by the person Faner had mentioned. He assumed most of them were about alchemy, though apparently there were exceptions.

"That's the notebook he used when he was first learning magic. Hogwarts had only been established for a short time back then, and he was in the first generation of Ravenclaw students, so he liked keeping notes. You can have a look. I imagine it'll be helpful."

As Faner spoke, he flicked his tongue in and out with a happy hiss.

Breeze picked up the notebook and examined it closely.

"There's a magical aura on this. It isn't an ordinary notebook." Breeze carefully turned a page, only to find perfectly normal notes. They began with first-year material, but the magic was far more complicated than what they studied now, and yet it was learned in a purer way.

Breeze sat down in an open space among the stacks of books and leafed through the notebook. Sunlight streamed over his back, making the scene feel warm and comfortable.

Faner stopped flicking his tongue and watched Breeze for a while. Then he silently slipped under the sturdy wooden table. There seemed to be a little compartment there. It probably wasn't made by that person; it was Faner's secret hideout.

From inside, Faner slowly pulled out Galleons, one after another, along with a few Silver Sickles.

When Breeze happened to look over, he saw Faner's bronze body lying among a small pile of mixed Galleons and Sickles. There seemed to be several hundred coins.

"Where did you get all that money?" Breeze asked, puzzled. Hadn't Faner said that the person had been so poor he'd even sold his soul to the Grim Reaper?

"Stole... Ahem, it's my pay. I've been keeping that fellow's lamp lit for years. I deserve some compensation. I took all of this from his pockets 'openly and honorably'!"

"All right, but why bring it out now? Do you want me to buy you something... a pretty bronze lamp for ladies?"

I finally figured out why I'd been so lethargic while writing these past few days. It was a side effect of taking melatonin to adjust my sleep schedule—it made me drowsy during the day, too.

And it hasn't helped at all. My sleep schedule still hasn't changed.

For the past few days, I've been lying down at midnight, falling asleep at three, waking up at noon, and getting up at one. Then I eat and write until four, when the melatonin makes me so groggy that I have to take a nap. I wake up at seven, lounge in bed, eat at eight, and write until midnight. Then I think about fixing my sleep schedule, and the cycle starts all over again...

I think I'll stop taking melatonin. It's only making things worse for no reason.(_)