Arnold Flint—who did he think he was, claiming to speak for Slytherin? What an absurdity. I heard he'd begged his cousin, the current sixth-year Quidditch captain, for the Prefect position. The sixth-year Prefect post had originally belonged to Marcus Flint, but he was a Quidditch fanatic and gave it up. He'd struck a deal with the guy he'd been competing against for the position, and in exchange, got his cousin a second-year Prefect post.
Zabini didn't seem ready to give up trying to talk him down. "Flint, the rules say Slytherin students absolutely can't fight among themselves during the first week. If the Head of House finds out, you might lose your Prefect badge."
It seemed Zabini's words had some effect. Flint had sobered up a little, but—
"Hmph. It's only Wednesday. I can let that kid live a little longer. If he doesn't respect the Prefects' arrangements, he deserves to be punished. Slytherin is a world where the strong rule. I'm just following the rules."
Arnold Flint spoke arrogantly, a cruel glint in his eyes. Then he turned to the third- and fourth-year Prefects watching from the sidelines. "Right? You're Prefects too. It's not just me he's disrespecting. Besides, I'm only a second-year."
Among the fourth-year Prefects, the girl didn't seem keen on joining in with bullying a first-year. She actually quite liked Breeze, but she was still a Slytherin and had no intention of helping some pretty boy. She only nodded and said, "I agree with you, but I am a lady, after all."
The fourth-year Prefect didn't bother with any of that beating around the bush. "Let me know when it happens."
The third-year girl Prefect, however, had a plan. She despised Muggle-borns, and pure-blood ideology ran deepest in her.
"Perhaps we don't have to do it ourselves. We can get those Half-bloods to—"
"Oh, don't be like that. You need to experience the fun for yourself. Besides, this is about our authority." The third-year male Prefect said, "We should beat him up, too. Give him some Potions afterward, so the Hospital Wing can't tell he's injured."
The second-year girl Prefect remained silent. She lowered her head and quietly drank her Pumpkin Juice. If not for her family background, she wouldn't have become a Prefect. The others knew what she was like, so none of them tried to draw her into the conversation.
Breeze finished a day of classes. This time, he hadn't been so engrossed that he forgot to eat dinner, but he seemed to have forgotten that it was the little Slytherin gathering today. So when he'd gathered his things and gone down to the entrance hall, he found not a single Slytherin at the tables.
Breeze calmly crossed the hall and headed for the kitchen. Sitting at the Slytherin table now would be like lighting a beacon in the dark; he could only imagine how the other houses would stare and whisper about him. Tsk.
Hermione seemed perfectly normal today, though. She was eating with a few other Gryffindor girls. As for the Savior, Harry Potter, and his friend Ron Weasley, the two of them looked very excited. Perhaps the Boy Who Lived was gradually seeming more ordinary, making his life a little more normal. No one was crowding around to watch him eat, or making a fuss for some other reason.
"George, I get the feeling that the well-behaved little snake is hiding something from us. Maybe he's found a hidden stronghold."
"Then we'll have to ask our Granger. Did the little snake go to the library today?" Fred said, winking at Hermione.
Hermione blushed, then said, "Breeze didn't go to the library today or yesterday. I thought he was reading in his dormitory... Could he be exploring the castle? That would break the school rules!"
"Oh, honestly, she's making a mountain out of a molehill. Why does she care what that evil Slytherin does, anyway? Slytherins are all bad wizards." Ron Weasley turned to Harry Potter beside him. "Really..."
"Come on, Ron. Let's eat first." Harry Potter clearly didn't want to cause trouble or talk about Slytherin. He didn't like Slytherin either, so he didn't contradict Ron Weasley.
Fred glanced at George, and then the two of them left with their arms around each other's shoulders. Who knew where they were going? Maybe they were off to deal with the Stinkweed or something.
Breeze soon finished dinner in the kitchen. Seeing that it was still early, he decided to find Professor Sprout and see if he could learn anything about where to find Trance Grass.
"Could I bother you for a moment, Professor?"
Just as Breeze had expected, Professor Sprout was in the greenhouse at this hour, tending to the plants.
"Oh, what brings you here, dear?" Sprout was watering some Devil's Snare. When she saw Breeze, she greeted him warmly. "Would you like to try? You'll be studying this Devil's Snare in class later."
"Of course!"
Breeze stroked the Devil's Snare, and it curled around his fingertips. It was very friendly, as if it were playing with him.
"Oh, I knew you had a special talent, Mr. Order. If you wanted, I think you could become a master of Herbology. Look, they like you. Devil's Snare hates being touched by warm things, you know."
Breeze joked, "Maybe I'm not trying to scare them with fire."
"I have to say, you're a clever boy. If we were in class, I'd award you points." Professor Sprout winked at him teasingly. "But next lesson, you'll have to tell me some of their other traits."
Breeze pursed his lips helplessly. "All right. Who says being afraid of fire is the only thing Devil's Snare does? I'm sure I can earn points for something else about it."
"Very well, very well. I believe you."
After Breeze helped Sprout water all the Devil's Snare and some Luminescent Grass as well, Professor Sprout said, "Now tell me why you came. Don't be shy. As long as it's nothing bad, professors are always happy to help young wizards."
Professor Sprout's words made Breeze smile. Then he thought of Snape... Breeze shook his head, tossing the big bat out of his mind. Looking eager, he said, "Professor Sprout, I'd like to know what Trance Grass is. I heard some older students mention it in the library, and I got curious."
"So I came to ask you right away. There's no one else at Hogwarts who knows as much about Herbology as you do."
"Oh, ha ha! All right. But Trance Grass isn't a plant you'll come across this year. In fact, you might not encounter it in class at all during your seven years here."
Sprout recalled something, her voice turning a little sad. "Trance Grass isn't quite extinct, but it grows in remote places rich in magic. And just as its name suggests, it instinctively makes other creatures overlook it. So even if you came across it, you might not see it. They say the Desillusionment Charm was invented by a wizard who discovered the secret by studying Trance Grass, but that was a long time ago..."
"Really?" Breeze scratched his head. Trance Grass was a key ingredient, but he hadn't seen any for sale. Wild plants were so hard to find, too. It was disappointing.
"Ah, I remember now. I came across Trance Grass when I was young, but it was... Well, that place would still be dangerous for you. Perhaps when you're a little older, I can take you there. We might even find some."
Professor Sprout ruffled Breeze's short black hair and said warmly, "Perhaps thanks to Mr. Order's help, all these plants are happy, and I can finish up early and get some rest. So I'll award Mr. Order five points. But there won't be any next time."
Breeze smiled happily. "I'll come even if there aren't any points, Professor Sprout. I'll head back now. Get some rest."
"Mm."
By the time Breeze returned to the Slytherin Common Room, the dinner gathering had long since ended. The students had all gone back to their rooms to get ready for bed, while a few House-elves were cleaning the common room. When they saw Breeze come in, they hurried to greet him. He waved to them kindly, then went back to his room.
Zabini was writing something, and there were a few Galleons on the desk. Breeze didn't pay them any mind and went to wash up.
"You smell like mud." Zabini glanced at Breeze as he entered the bathroom and muttered under his breath. Then he sneered coldly, his eyes glinting as he read the letter. He put the Galleons in a bag, took the letter and the bag, and left.
When Zabini came back, Breeze was already asleep in bed with a book in his hands. Zabini turned off the light, glared viciously at Breeze, then turned and went to bed.
Soon Sunday passed, along with Breeze's weekend of studying, and Monday arrived. Defense Against the Dark Arts was on this morning, one of the classes Breeze had been looking forward to. He'd been carrying that alchemy notebook around with him, but hadn't actually practiced yet. First, he had nowhere to do it. Second, he had nothing to practice on. And third, practicing alone was always dangerous. His magic was just as unstable as any other young wizard's. Unless he used Natural Magic Power, he couldn't be sure he'd manage it safely and effectively on his first try.
But Breeze still couldn't forget the sight of himself that he'd seen when his consciousness had left his body that day. He didn't want to rely too much on that unknown power and risk having his soul possessed.
"Morning, Order," some Ravenclaw students greeted Breeze, while the Little Snakes all coldly ignored him. Millicent, however, seemed uneasy and quietly followed behind Breeze, as if she wanted to tell him something. But Zabini stopped her.
"You're in the way, Miss Bulstrode." Then he walked past Millicent. Breeze didn't notice any of this; he was looking for a seat near the front.
"Ugh..." When Professor Quirrell came into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Breeze froze. Then he secretly lowered his head and cast a powerful deodorizing charm around himself, easing the strong smell of garlic coming from Professor Quirrell.
Breeze hadn't met Quirrell before. The garlic smell at the start-of-term feast had been faint, but over the past few days, it seemed to have grown even stronger.
"Does Professor Quirrell like eating garlic?" Breeze frowned and wanted to move farther back, but the only open seat there was to Malfoy's left. It seemed Daphne Greengrass had been squeezed into an inner seat by Pansy Parkinson, separating her from Malfoy. What a nice girl.
Breeze knew Malfoy fairly well and didn't care whether he minded. Before class officially started, while Professor Quirrell was still arranging his books, Breeze jogged over and sat down beside Malfoy.
Malfoy glanced sideways at Breeze and snorted. "Cast a few of those spells you just used around here too. That damn garlic smell gets everywhere. Dumbledore must be lounging in a honey jar with his nose stuffed up, or he wouldn't let Quirrell take those poor little garlic bulbs from the House-elves whenever he wanted."
Garlic bulbs, plural—Breeze had learned something. But his hands were already moving.
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