Verbal Art Form

Ymir lightly tapped his glass, and immediately, a golden liquid refilled the empty container.

Idly, he took a sip of the sweet drink, writing on his black journal while the rest of his companions sleepily ate their breakfast.

It was Monday morning, and on this day, all the members of the Newspaper club decided to gather very early in the Ravenclaw table, anticipating the event that will occur later.

Yes, it was the day the first issue of the Hogwarts Weekly News would be published.

So, Ravenclaw once again welcomed outside visitors, though it wasn't only limited to Slytherin this time.

"I'm kind of afraid to ask, but-" Blaise began hesitantly. "What are you drinking?"

Ymir glanced at him briefly. Why does he always take notice of his food? Is he hungry?

"Golden Ambrosia." He answered simply. "There's also Red Ambrosia."

Though red Ambrosia always made him feel like he was drinking sweet blood so he preferred the Golden variant.

"And, what is Ambrosia exactly?" Pansy piped in, casting a curious look to his drink. By this point, more students began to trickle into the Great Hall for breakfast.

"It's pure nectar." He explained what Glas told him the apothecary, where he sent the materials to be studied, found out. "They're harvested from the sap of the Bleeding Weeds grown in the garden at home."

"Speaking of the plants in your garden, I went and looked through the books of magical plants in the library to see what kinds they were, but it seems they couldn't be found anywhere." Theodore Nott suddenly spoke, startling the people who didn't even notice his presence. "Do they go by another more common name, or are they undiscovered plants that have never been studied before?"

Ymir paused, not expecting someone to actually take the time to do research on plants that he only mentioned casually.

"They're mutated variants of plants that already exist." Trying not to draw more attention to it, he explained vaguely. "Experimental by-products."

"I see." Theodore nodded, as though that explained everything he needed to know. "It would be nice to actually see the whole plant itself. Studying it's structure and what makes it different from it's origin plant would be quite fascinating."

Someone actually took genuine interest in the research of those plants? Ymir raised an eyebrow. Honestly, with all the projects he was working on, the study of those plants he scavenged from Terra sort of fell to the bottom of his priority list, so having someone else research on them would be quite helpful.

Plus, Theodore Nott seems to be one of the students whose talents showed in Potions and Herbology.

Making up his mind, Ymir looked towards the boy in interest. "I can send you some seedlings during the Yule holiday, if you're interested. Though, if you do find out something about why they mutated the way they did, could it be possible for you to share your findings with me? I'd like to know."

Hearing Ymir's proposal, Theodore's eyes glistened in excitement.

"Of course! It's already generous of you to be willing to give me samples of what may be plants that have never existed before!" He quickly agreed, his unfinished food long forgotten. "It's only natural for me to share with you my studies about them!"

To the side, the other members looked at each other with stiff expressions, staying quiet and not participating in the conversation purposely, thinking to themselves. Was this what it feels like to be an idiot listening to smart people talk?

Before they realized it, between the time they spent chatting idly and eating breakfast, the Great Hall was already filled with students, and the time when the owls would deliver the daily mail was fast approaching.

And, as the noise within the Hall increased with each additional student coming in, so did the chatter within the club members, with their brains becoming more awake upon gaining energy from eating breakfast.

"All I'm saying is that, if she didn't like him, she could've just turned down his advances!" Parvati Patil stressed her point. "It's not that hard!"

Ayato poked Ymir's cheek with a strawberry, trying to get the younger boy to eat it.

"Right!" Daphne agreed. "And then she goes on blaming everything except herself when she's forced into a marriage contract with someone she didn't want, all because she didn't say no when she could've."

Ymir scrunched his nose and sighed, taking a bite out of the strawberry when it became clear that his senior wouldn't move unless he did.

It was sour.

"Actually, I met the guy before, and he's not even that bad!" Hannah Abbott joined in on the conversation. "Good looking enough and he's polite to women."

Draco and Blaise saw the last cream puff on the plate and eyed each other warily.

"If I were her, I'd be happy enough with a marriage contract with him." Pansy shrugged casually. "Atleast, it's much better than being forced to marry an arrogant bigot who thinks he's too good for anyone."

Anthony snickered, holding the last cream puff in his hand victoriously.

"Ugh! I know!" Parvati nodded.

Ayato leaned closer to Ymir and whispered. "What time is it?"

Ymir took out his pocket watch and looked. "8:15 AM."

"Five more minutes then." Ayato hummed and leaned back on his chair, eyes trained towards the large open windows above the Great Hall.

"And, here they come!" As the first sign of feathers came in, he quickly patted Ymir's shoulder to catch his attention. "Right on time."

And then, came rolls of newspapers being delivered in front of each student.

❄️❄️❄️

It was still early in the morning and Harry Potter already knew that it was not going to be a good day for him.

Maybe it was because he overslept, or it could be because he forgot to do his homework for Potions.

Or, maybe, it was because of the strange newspaper that fell right on top of his toast during breakfast.

The Daily Prophet? He thought in confusion, before automatically ruling it out when he read out the Headline. Then, his face immediately paled.

"This-" He hesitated and turned to face his bestfriend, unwilling to doubt him, but, being the only one who he told the news to, there was no one else he could ask. "Did you-?"

"Harry, you know I wouldn't do that, mate!" Ron Weasley whispered, eyes darting around them to see how the other people reacted. "Honestly, it could be anyone in the Quidditch team! Fred and George knew about it too, remember?"

"I guess..." Harry bit his lip and looked down at his newspaper, reading the contents grimly under the judging eyes of the whole school.

"Wow! I guess there really are some perks to being a Griffindor, huh!" Seamus Finnigan gloated, unaware of the increasingly cold eyes of the other houses, particularly, Ravenclaw who just learned about the injustice dealt to their house.

Suddenly, Ron slammed his newspaper on the table and shot up from his seat, nearly knocking down his pumpkin juice. "I'm going to confront Malfoy about this."

"Stop it, Ronald Weasley!" Opposite of them, Hermione Granger shouted.

"Butt out of this, Granger!" Ron snapped through gritted teeth.

Not wanting to attract any more attention than they already did, Harry pulled at Ron's sleeve, trying to make him sit back down. "Ron, don't-"

"Harry, you can't possibly tell me that you're not going to do anything about this!" Ron turned to Harry in disbelief. "They're practically saying that if it weren't for Professor McGonagall, you wouldn't have a chance to be made Seeker!"

Harry wanted nothing more than to run towards his bed and pretend he didn't exist for the rest of the day.

"But, it's true though! I really shouldn't have been made Seeker!" He said, partly exasperated, and partly cautious about the eyes that were glaring at him from the other tables. "Especially not after I disobeyed Professor Hooch!"

"That's not reason to make you look bad!" Ron grabbed his shoulder tightly as though to prove a point. "You're Griffindor's Seeker, fine! But, it's not like you asked to be made Seeker, right?"

Harry pursed his lips, admitting to himself that Ron did have a point.

Off in the Professor's table, it was a completely different scene.

As the newspaper reached Dumbledore's hands, his eyes seemed to regard Ymir silently before he moved on to the Slytherins snickering amongst each other.

He sighed regretfully to himself, the twinkling in his eyes dimming slightly. "Minerva, can you pass me the sugar cubes?"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Albus. You know how finicky Poppy gets about your sugar intake." The stern witch shook her head, pushing the bowl of sugar cubes further away from the Headmaster as Flitwick frowned slightly at the two of them.

On the other side of the table, Snape took one glance at the newspaper and sneered vindictively. "It seems that some students are not blind after all."

Beside him, Quirrell had his head down, reading his copy with relish.

Meanwhile, in the Ravenclaw table, the club members celebrated amongst themselves for the success of their first issue, watching in amusement as an angry red-head marched straight for them with determination in his eyes.

Turning around from his seat, Draco regarded the disturbance with raised eyebrows. "Oh? You're approaching us?"

Ron huffed, his face twisted in an angry scowl. "Yeah! What in the bloody hell are you trying to do with your bloody newspaper, Malfoy?!"

"Ron, stop!" Harry Potter shouted at him, face tense as he realized how outnumbered they were.

"I assume this is about the article about Potter?" Eyes drifting from Potter to Weasley, Draco smiled in mockery and amusement. "If you could read, you'll see there that the one who wrote it wasn't even me. But, I seem to overestimate the level of education the Weasleys impart to their children. Silly me."

This prompted the rest of the Slytherins to laugh.

"Don't bring my family into this, Malfoy." Ron hissed at him. "I bet you were the one who told them to write that down!"

Draco furrowed his brows and turned towards his club mates.

"Was I?" He asked, seemingly innocently. "Daphne, did I tell you to write that article?"

"Of course not! That article was written entirely by me! Willingly!" Daphne rolled her eyes and scoffed.

"You- You- Slytherins-" Ron spluttered, saying the house name as though it were insult enough. "I challenge you to a wizard duel!"

The entire table was silent.

"A wizard duel?" Draco looked at Ron from head to toe in scrutiny. "Just you?"

Feeling insulted by that look, Ron impulsively shouted. "Me and Harry, of course!"

Behind him, Harry Potter, who'd been cued, kept trying to pull at Ron's arm, silently hoping his friend would regain his senses and not make the matter worse.

Seeing this, Draco chuckled, eyeing Harry's anxious appearance in amusement.

"I think, if you're not completely blind, you'd see that Potter wants nothing to do with this." He grinned maliciously. "Or is it that you can decide his choices for him, Weasley?"

Feeling as though he'd been provoked, Ron scowled as he whirled around to face his friend. "You're coming, right, Harry?"

Suddenly, everyone was looking at him, and the pressure began to pile on his shoulders.

"I- yeah!" Under Ron's beseeching eyes, and the Slytherins' jeers, Harry straightened his back, not wanting to be seen as a coward. "Yeah, I will."

Ron nodded and turned to face Draco victoriously. "Then, who'll be going with you, huh, Malfoy?"

To this, Draco sneered viciously.

"I'll be going with the one who really deserves to be chosen as a first year Seeker." He smirked. "Ymir Schreiber."

Upon hearing that name, Harry Potter was overcome with a strange feeling of guilt.

Suddenly, all eyes were on him, and Ymir took a deep, calming breath.

He did not consent to this.

If only murder was legal.

❄️❄️❄️

"Of course, when it comes to duelling matters, some may argue that the type of wand one posseses contributes to whether a wizard becomes a successful duellist, or a hopeless duellist." During Charms class, Ymir didn't know if it was a coincidence or whether Professor Flitwick knew something, but the topic for the day somehow became about duelling and it's intricacies.

"As an example, the wands commonly accepted as the best wands for duellists are; Aspen, Blackthorn, Cherry, Ebony, Red Oak, and Yew."

Thinking back, Ollivander seemed to say something similar about his wand when he just got it.

"Mister Schreiber, I believe, is in possession of an Aspen wand, yes?" Upon being called by the professor, he found nearly the whole class looking towards him in either envy or curiosity.

"Yes, Professor." Ymir couldn't help but notice the Ravenclaw Dean's excessive attention towards him today.

Most likely, it had something to do with the news article, giving the professor an urge to compensate him for what he thinks is an injustice, when really, Ymir himself didn't actually care about Quidditch.

"Did you know, that amongst wizards, it is widely believed that only born duellists can be chosen by the Aspen wand?" Continuing onto the topic, Professor Flitwick hopped onto his high stool. "It is to the point that certain dueling clubs only recruit members who use Aspen wands!"

It really was a surprise when Ymir learned that this small professor was actually once a Duel Champion.

At the back of the class, Harry Potter nearly slammed his head on his desk, groaning in his mind about his fate.

Great. Just what he needed. He'd have to fight someone who the majority of the wizard population recognized as a born duellist.

"It's just a wand, Harry." Ron tried to comfort him. "Just because the wand has a reputation of being used by duellists, doesn't mean every holder has to be a good duellist."

"Just... shut up for a second."

❄️❄️❄️

"What if I don't attend the duel and just tell Filch where they'll be so they could get caught?" Draco whispered as they walked through the dark corridors.

It was already past curfew and they were on their way to the trophy room where they agreed to hold the duel.

"No." Ymir stared at Draco seriously. "If you seek Potter's friendship, that means you'll have to abide by the Griffindor's honor."

"Right, Draco." Blaise nodded in agreement. "No matter how tempting it is, you need to atleast show some admirable parts of your character."

This time, it was only four of them who were going to the duel; Draco, Blaise, Ymir, and Anthony. Though, Anthony and Blaise were only there because they wanted to witness it firsthand so they had something interesting to tell the others tomorrow.

"Ugh! Fine!" Draco groaned with a roll of his eyes. "Why'd Weasley have to drag Potter anyways? He's like a drowning rat that didn't want to die alone so he dragged his friends under the water with him."

"That's an odd description." Anthony muttered.

Upon arriving at the trophy room and seeing no one there yet, they decided to wait around for half an hour at most. If Potter and Weasley still didn't arrive by then, they'd go back and declare the two Griffindors to have forfeited the match.

Fortunately, it didn't have to come to that as, five minutes later, the two arrived, but they brought others with them; Longbottom, a bushy haired girl from Griffindor, and, trailing behind, was Filch and his cat, Mrs. Norris.

"Hide." Ymir hissed and pulled Anthony behind the trophy display closet, trying to find the best path to take towards the door without being spotted.

"They're in here somewhere..." He heard Filch mutter. "Probably hiding."

Draco and Blaise were hiding behind the curtains, and, blocking the ideal path to the door, were Harry Potter and his entourage, sneaking behind the rows of armors.

Ymir silently clicked his tongue in irritation, but then, he suddenly had an idea.

He slowly pulled out his wand, aiming at one of Harry Potter's friend's legs.

"What are you doing?" Seeing his actions, Anthony whispered to his ear.

Ymir narrowed his eyes slyly. "Giving us a way out."

With a quick flick of his wand, the leg he was aiming for slipped, and with a frightened squeak, Neville Longbottom tripped, grabbed onto Weasley's waist, and they both toppled over a suit of armor, crashing down with a thunderous sound.

And as Filch turned his eyes onto the four who were revealed, Ymir quickly took hold of Anthony's arm and dashed out of the door before he heard a loud shout of, "Run!" from Harry Potter.

Quickly running through the winding corridors, he made a mental map of the castle, trying to find the best route to lose Filch, not realizing that there were two others chasing after them.

Right! The forbidden corridor was near here!

He immediately made up his mind and ran straight for his destination.

Unknown to him, their initial groups had fractured into three different routes, with Draco and Blaise heading straight for the Dungeons, Longbottom and Granger heading for the Griffindor Tower, and Ymir and Anthony heading for the forbidden corridor, with Harry and Ron following them, leading Filch.

Seeing the target door in front of him, Ymir held his wand out. "Alohamora!"

Whether a door was locked or not, it was best to always cast the unlocking charm first so you won't have to waste time checking if it was locked before trying to open it.

He casted the spell and quickly pulled the door open, rushing in, and was caught by surprise when not just one, but three others had entered with him.

Nevermind, that wasn't what was important right now.

On the other side of the door, Ymir could hear sounds of shuffling.

"Where are they- Where are-" A pause, followed by a strange giggle.

Then, something loud fell down.

"PEEVES!!!" Filch shouted and began chasing something else.

Then, silence.

For a while, all they could hear was their nervous breathing, until, suddenly, Anthony's eyes began glowing.

"What- what's wrong with him?!" Ron Weasley, seeming to have realized just who the people he was with were, asked hesitantly, looking at Ymir with apprehension.

But, Ymir didn't answer, eyes staring at something else in the darkness.

"What-" Unable to withstand being ignored, Ron tried to attract the other boy's attention with a frown, but Harry was quick to cover his mouth.

"Ron... Keep quiet." Harry whispered, having also seen what Ymir was looking at.

Ron struggled under Harry's hand, not understanding why he had to shut up, until he saw it too. Then, his body stiffened.

What was that?!

There, staring at them with a hungry look in it's many eyes, was a giant black dog with three heads, drooling.

What a fearsome creature.

Ymir took one look at the three headed beast and decided he wanted it.

"Owh.. There's an interesting puzzle underneath this room but, right now, it's not complete yet." Finally snapping out of his haze, Anthony rubbed his forehead dizzily, and was quick to inform Ymir of what he saw. "But, when they do complete it, they're going to hide a pretty red stone in there!"

"I see." Ymir nodded, recognition flashing from the back of his brain upon hearing about the red stone.

So, it is below this room that Harry Potter becomes a murderer for the first time.

From the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of the boy-who-lived, staring at Anthony strangely.

"I suppose you don't intend to stay with the dog for the rest of the night?" Harry Potter whispered in a hurry. "Because unlike you, I'd actually prefer not to end up being dogfood, thanks."

Ymir blinked, glancing between Harry Potter and at the door which had somehow locked itself again.

"Alohamora." He said blandly, and finally, they were outside again, this time, with Filch nowhere in sight.

Seeing this, they all breathed a sigh of relief.

"Harry Potter..." Ymir studied the boy-who-lived seriously. "You're not what I expected you to be."

He was admitting his mistake sincerely, but somehow, his words seemed to have annoyed the boy in some way as his green eyes immediately turned sharp.

"Maybe, if you'd just come and ask me instead of basing all your understanding on what some book said, then you'd have known exactly what kind of person I was." Harry Potter snapped at him. "But, you're just too Ravenclaw for that, right?"

Anthony's eyes widened, staring at Harry in shock. What in the world? Not even Malfoy could lose his temper in front of Schreiber and Potter actually dares to be rude to him?

But, instead of being offended like one would expect, Ymir actually looked amused, gazing at Harry in interest.

"I see now, Harry Potter." He looked at Harry's green eyes deeply. "I see you now."

If Professor Snape could be said to spit out metaphorical acid whenever he speaks, Harry Potter concealed needles in his tongue.