With Professor McGonagall's five-inch essay assignment, the morning Transfiguration class came to an end. Professor McGonagall asked Breeze to stay behind.
"I hope I'm not disturbing your rest, Mr. Order."
"Not at all. I can go to the library later."
When she heard that Breeze planned to go to the library, even Professor McGonagall's stern face softened into a smile.
"Well, I can see that you have a talent for Transfiguration, so I thought I could make an exception for you. This book, for instance, could help you."
Professor McGonagall wrote something on a piece of paper, then handed it to Breeze with a cautious warning. "You may borrow only this book, and you mustn't let any other young wizard see it. For young wizards who haven't yet discovered Transfiguration Structural Studies, it can be dangerous."
Breeze narrowed his eyes slightly and looked up with a smile. "Of course. Thank you, Professor McGonagall."
Professor McGonagall nodded primly, then let Breeze go.
Breeze looked at the library slip in his hand:
Mr. Breeze Storm Order is permitted to borrow The Mysteries of Transfiguration from the Forbidden Section.—Minerva McGonagall
The afternoon class was dull. Sitting with the Ravenclaw students, Breeze listened until he was on the verge of falling asleep. He didn't even take out the book he'd borrowed from the Forbidden Section. One listen to the voice at the front of the classroom told him there was no point fighting it, so he slumped over.
It was completely out of character for him, leaving the Little Snakes and Ravenclaw students astonished. But as more and more young wizards collapsed onto their desks, they decided this was simply his true nature.
"So you're not so perfect after all, hmph." Malfoy fought to stay awake and diligently took notes for History of Magic. Around him, Crabbe and Goyle had already fallen asleep, while Pansy and Daphne quietly discussed articles about beauty.
Only when class ended did Breeze sit up comfortably. He stared blankly as the ghostly History of Magic professor, Cuthbert Binns, passed through the wall and drifted away without a word, seemingly unconcerned with the young wizards... But he'd still assigned them History of Magic homework. Absolutely ridiculous. Even death couldn't stop him from tormenting young wizards.
Breeze had already realized that he and History of Magic didn't get along. He'd memorized the key points in the textbook, but he treated it as nothing more than a bedtime aid.
Time passed, and Wednesday arrived before he knew it. After finishing a day of Herbology, Breeze ate dinner, went to the Owlery to read, then headed back just in time...
"What's this?" Breeze stood coldly at the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Clothes and textbooks were piled across the floor, along with Breeze's small suitcase.
"Who did this?" Was it Zabini? Breeze couldn't be sure, but he couldn't rule him out. That boy was more arrogant than anyone. Breeze could tell he didn't even think much of Malfoy.
Or perhaps it had been a decision made by many Slytherins. His protection period had only just ended, and they were already eager to make a move—and in such a low-handed way. Perhaps the real trap awaited Breeze behind the door.
Breeze should retreat and find Professor Snape or the Headmaster. That was the best way to deal with them, but...
He looked at his torn satchel and diary and rubbed his eyes, but he couldn't dispel the cold, pure red in them. Even the tips of his hair had turned slightly silver, betraying the quiet fury and sorrow he was keeping under control.
Today, Breeze had washed the satchel, and he'd left the diary beside his pillow... The satchel had been Betty's gift for his ninth birthday, while the diary was the only thing that proved his true identity in this world.
He stuffed everything into the small suitcase. Carefully, he gathered every scrap of the satchel and diary and placed them inside, too. But when he saw Breeze Storm Order written on the diary's title page, tears still welled in his eyes.
Breeze had never cried as a child. He'd always been levelheaded. Even when he discovered the memories in his mind and his powerful Natural Magic Power, he'd kept himself in check.
The wand on Breeze's wrist trembled uneasily. He took it in hand and calmed it, while the Natural Magic Power within him—the power he'd always been reluctant to use—spread through his entire body. Its immense strength was no longer kind or friendly to anyone but him.
Breeze was perfectly rational. He understood that only Natural Magic Power could help him.
He coldly spoke the password, and the door slowly opened.
"Glory..."
Quite a few people were sitting in the common room. Aside from the few younger Prefects, most were there to watch the show. Some who had no interest in it had stayed in their dormitories, Malfoy among them, but most had chosen to spectate.
Breeze's roommates, Zabini and Pansy, were there, as was Millicent, who worried that Breeze had no way of telling her what had happened.
At the sound of the door opening, Arnold Flint jumped to his feet in excitement. This was the first time he'd organized such a large gathering, and it would earn him a great deal of prestige.
"Well, look who's back, Mudblood—"
As the magic gathered inside Breeze, a crack split the floor beneath a burst of explosive force...
"Crushing Bones!"
"Ah!"
"Bang! Bang! Bang!" As soon as Breeze heard Arnold's voice, he fired a Shattering Curse. The force behind it sent Arnold flying like a cannonball, slamming him hard into the wall. People and objects nearby were knocked aside as well. Arnold rolled off the wall and hit the floor, howling in pain. Blood poured down his face, and his arm twisted at a grotesque angle, its stark white bones visible beneath the red.
"What are you doing?!"
"Expelliarmus—" An older student snapped out of it and immediately cast a spell at Breeze, but Breeze turned and fired Petrificus Totalus. The immense magic instantly engulfed that entire section of the room, leaving several others unable to move as well.
Only then did they notice something was wrong with Breeze. Some of the well-connected students shuddered when they saw his red eyes, but before they could say anything, Breeze cast Petrificus Totalus at them.
"Stop! You'll be expelled, you—" Before the third-year Prefect could finish, Breeze flung a spell at him, sending him flying aside in an instant. Blood streamed everywhere.
"Petrificus Totalus!" An older student seized his chance and attacked Breeze. Frowning, Breeze took a small step back, then cast a spell he'd never managed to use successfully before.
"Protego!"
It was a difficult defensive spell. Even some older students and graduates couldn't cast it reliably, but under the influence of Breeze's Natural Magic Power, a layer of protective magic immediately formed around him. The mediocre Petrificus Totalus rebounded and struck the attacker instead.
Conviction. Yes, magic was the product of conviction. Breeze had never before felt the conviction to protect anything, but now he did.
"Stupefy!" Seeing the situation spiral further out of control, the sixth-year male Prefect—the highest-ranking male Prefect present—made a quick decision after a moment of surprise. What he didn't notice was that the sixth-year female Prefect beside him had edged away from him, watching Breeze's eyes with a thoughtful expression.
When she retreated to a corner, she noticed Childe Enid already standing there, watching Breeze. She was the prettiest Slytherin in fifth year, and she was also the one who had taken an interest in Breeze at that private Slytherin gathering.
"Some people are about to lose the greatest treasure because of their own stupidity, aren't they, Miss Sixth-Year Prefect?"
The female Prefect was a rigid sort. She didn't argue with Enid. Instead, she said, "Could Breeze Order really have a connection to that important person?"
The sixth-year male Prefect's spell worked, but it only left Breeze dazed for a moment before he recovered. The Prefect was met with a powerful Crushing Bones!
"Ugh!" The intense pain sent the sixth-year Prefect crashing to the side. The other Little Snakes who had been about to attack fled toward the dormitory passage, but Breeze wasn't about to let them get their way.
Breeze summoned as much magic as he could and swung his wand hard. "Petrificus Totalus!"
A powerful wave of magic swept through the entire common room. Breeze rubbed his head. Casting spells didn't consume his magic, but channeling such an immense force still took its toll. His mind felt hazy, yet the sight of the wrecked common room made him laugh with satisfaction.
They were just a bunch of pampered young masters and misses raised in an ivory tower. Even the few who had any ability were fools... Perhaps they hadn't intended to attack him at all and had simply chosen to watch. Breeze hated the way they stared at him.
Breeze glanced silently at the people who'd found good seats to watch this farcical spectacle. He wasn't going to let them off so easily. He'd written down the names of everyone who had provoked him in his diary.
Breeze's eyes grew even redder as he tapped his wand against the two second-year boys who had blocked his way into the common room.
"Expelliarmus!" The two spells sent them flying aside, their faces slamming hard into the wall. Breeze didn't like using his fists to punch people who'd been frozen stiff by spells.
"I know it was you, Zabini. You used these idiots to come after me. The undisguised disgust in your eyes and your arrogance gave you away a long time ago. Your plan was clever, but too bad for you—I trust my instincts." Breeze walked unhurriedly over to Zabini, who was hiding to one side. He kicked him down and planted a foot on his face. "Clearly, I was right."
Breeze glanced at the others and was surprised to find Malfoy wasn't there. Pansy and several others were present, though. When he saw the fear in their eyes, he suddenly lost interest in tormenting them. This was boring. The red in his eyes faded a little. Using spells at such a high intensity was too much for him; he needed to rest.
Of course, he wouldn't be resting in Slytherin.
"As you wished, I'll leave. I'm sick of the sight of you, too."
Breeze walked out the door, pulled his small suitcase along, and headed for the tower on the Seventh Floor. Good. They'd picked a convenient time. Filch was probably the only one wandering around the castle now, searching for young wizards out of bed.
Using his powerful senses, Breeze made it safely to the Seventh Floor. He lowered his head and said coldly, "Keep staring and I'll burn you."
After that, he ignored the portraits, which had gone from pointing fingers at him to shouting angrily in panic. Breeze trusted them to keep their mouths shut. After all, he was the one who'd been driven out, wasn't he? Breeze had always been a good boy, rarely going against what most people wanted.
Breeze tapped his wand against the stone bricks beside the Great Tree portrait and stepped inside with an easy stride.
It was a fine single bedroom, though tonight would probably be rather lonely. In the Owlery in the East Tower, there was only a pile of books and a Faner snake spitting lamp oil onto the solid wood table.
(Finally, I've gotten to this point. I'd originally planned to write it sooner, but then I thought that the most distinctive thing about Hogwarts was its magic classes, so I wrote out Breeze's experience in each class. That made things run a little longer, and I also planted a few foreshadowing details and plot points that weren't in the original outline, so I need to organize the outline again.)
Before you continue