"Phew."
In the Room of Requirement, Jerry let out a long breath and wiped the fine sweat from his forehead. He picked up his creation from the table: a silver-white bracelet covered in magical patterns that seemed to shimmer in an endless night.
It was the first item Jerry had ever successfully made. He could sense a faint trace of magic within it.
The bracelet worked much like Neville's Remembrall, except it could tell you what you had forgotten.
"Fuck, kid, hurry up and give me some magic! I'm starving!" A voice of indeterminate gender burst from the bracelet.
Jerry stared at it.
He opened Basic Alchemy and checked his work against the instructions, word by word. After confirming he had followed every step, he scratched his head in confusion.
He had done exactly what the Alchemy book said. Why had the bracelet turned out so strange?
What kind of lousy Alchemy is this? Is BYD messing with me? Why does the bracelet have such a filthy mouth?
The bracelet was still swearing, so Jerry picked up a small box nearby and prepared to put it inside.
"Shit, I need magic! What are you doing? Don't eat the pickled radish!"
"Quietus!"
Once the bracelet was in the box, Jerry swiftly drew his Wand and cast the Silencing Charm on it. The swearing vanished at once.
As the first thing Jerry had successfully made, the silver-white bracelet was supposed to mark the beginning of his journey toward becoming a master of Alchemy. He had thought about keeping it forever.
But given its filthy mouth, Jerry now decided to give it away. Neville seemed like a good choice. Would he be touched when he received it?
Early the next morning, Jerry spotted Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Neville eating at the Gryffindor table. He walked over and sat down.
"Hey, Neville. I've got something for you!"
Everyone looked up at him curiously.
Jerry took a small Wooden Box from his coat pocket and handed it to Neville.
"This is the first Alchemy item I've ever made. It works a bit like your Remembrall, Neville, except it tells you what you've forgotten."
Of the four, only Hermione knew Jerry was studying Alchemy. Harry, Ron, and Neville had no idea.
Jerry had to explain it to them. Hermione grew excited, while the other three stared at him as if he were a monster.
"You should've been in Ravenclaw, Jerry," Harry said. The others nodded in agreement.
When Neville heard that Jerry was giving him his very first creation, he said, deeply moved, "Thank you, Jerry."
Neville took the Wooden Box from Jerry and opened it. Inside was a silver-white bracelet. He picked it up and started to put it on his wrist.
Jerry stopped him at once. "Neville, don't put it on yet. Wait until you're back in the Dormitory. You'll need to give it some magic once a month, but you don't have to remember that yourself. The bracelet will remind you when it's running low."
Neville nodded silently, his eyes full of gratitude. He slipped the Wooden Box into his coat pocket, which looked even more stuffed than before.
Once Jerry and Neville had finished talking, Harry leaned toward Jerry. "Jerry, do you know what we found on the fourth floor? A huge three-headed dog! And—"
Before Harry could finish, Hermione cut him off angrily. "That's enough, Harry! This has nothing to do with Jerry. Don't drag him into it!"
Ron and Neville shrank back at the young witch's anger. Seeing her expression, Harry dropped the subject too.
Jerry soothed the bristling Hermione, and they finished breakfast in that strained atmosphere before heading to class.
Jerry had wanted to say he already knew. He had even gone to see the dog out of curiosity on a few of his nighttime wanderings. But Hermione's reaction made him swallow his words.
That morning, they had Defence Against the Dark Arts. Unlike in their other classes, Jerry and Hermione chose seats near the back instead of the front.
"If you are, are accidentally bitten by a Werewolf..."
At the front of the classroom, Professor Quirrell stood reading haltingly from the textbook amid a pungent smell of garlic. Jerry wondered whether Quirrell bore some responsibility for Voldemort having no nose.
Professor Quirrell paid almost no attention to his students during Defence Against the Dark Arts, and they had grown increasingly bold—especially the Slytherins.
In that day's lesson, Malfoy even crumpled paper into marble-sized balls and threw them at Quirrell whenever he turned around. A few struck the back of Quirrell's head.
Jerry drew a sharp breath in the back row. Malfoy, you really are brave. If your father Lucius knew you were throwing paper balls at Voldemort, he'd probably wet himself.
"M-Malfoy, how c-could you throw p-paper balls at a professor? O-one point from Slytherin."
Malfoy wasn't the least bit afraid of being caught. What a joke. I'm incredibly brave!
"Professor Quirrell, your lessons are too boring. This is Defence Against the Dark Arts. You could at least tell us about Dark Magic," Malfoy said in his usual haughty tone.
The classroom erupted. The Slytherins in particular shouted excitedly from their seats, demanding to learn Dark Magic.
"N-no. Dark Magic is too, too dangerous. I c-can't teach you. The Ministry of Magic would c-come after me."
Malfoy grew even more excited. He thumped his chest and told Quirrell confidently, "Don't worry, Professor Quirrell. Do you know who my father is? He's Lucius Malfoy, and he's good friends with the Minister for Magic. You'll be fine."
As the noise in the classroom rose, Quirrell raised his voice slightly. "P-please, everyone, quiet down. I-I have a question for you!"
The students settled a little, ready to hear what he had to say.
"Y-you want to learn Dark Magic, don't you? Then I-I'll ask a question and see if anyone can answer. Can someone tell me the incantation for the Killing Curse?"
The moment Quirrell finished speaking, the noisy classroom fell silent.
It was as if every sound had been sealed away, leaving only Quirrell's faint words hanging in the air.