Chapter Nineteen

The violins took their pace. The piano began to play a few hesitant tunes. The drums picked up the rhythm. "Far over..." I hummed as I swished my wand gently, "the misty mountain cold," the violins picked up, a clarinet sang. "to dungeons deep and caverns old," the drums grew in noise.

The ghastly orchestra sang a melody taken from my memories, and it sang it perfectly. My memories became reality, slowly, ever certainly, they proceeded to play as I sang alongside them.

It was a beautiful hymn. I was practicing while outside the Quidditch match continued. Hufflepuff against Gryffindor, with Severus Snape as the referee. It would be quite the biased match, and yet also the quickest. Meanwhile, I practiced my orchestral charm. I reckoned it would earn me a few dozen points with professor Flitwick if I showed it to him once finished.

But first, they'd need to be able to play the Misty Mountains Cold without problems.

By the time I stepped outside, the Quidditch match had ended and students were starting to crowd back in for their afternoon. While the students had formed groups with one another, I, on the other hand, had places to be and people to interact with on a weekly basis.

Namely put, one day I would have my regular tea with scones with professor McGonagall and another my dancing cupcake time with professor Flitwick. I would swing by professor Sprout during a free morning, eating warm and freshly baked cookies while practicing the bubblehead charm under her supervision -one could actually asphyxiate if another wizard didn't pop it in case of miscasting and then I'd make a swing for Dumbledore's office near the end of the week, eating a sherbet lemon and asking him some random questions about his hobbies and his interest.

Some days, I wondered if perhaps I was some kind of super-special kid, but then I realized that no, I wasn't. There were a lot of other students who came and went from their offices, and they all left with frosted lips from cupcake's glaze, or with their breath smelling of tea. I wasn't special, and I didn't want to be special. I was merely more affectionate than other first years, and I liked to hear professor Flitwick's dueling stories.

It was because of him that the straw mannequin within the room of requirement had started to move right and left, to make it harder for me to hit. Holding my left hand behind me, I would swish my wand in the familiar mannerisms of the Flipendo, of the Verdimillious, and in the meantime I would ponder on how to make the spell faster, my steps nimbler, my breathing more even.

I'd sweat seven shirts, and yet not be done. I'd try sidestepping, lunging to the side, casting while rolling out of the way. Some had more success than others. Even so, they meant little if I couldn't get a shield ongoing, or a way to rebound the spell off. The Expelliarmus could actually rebound spells.

The days went by. Unspoken was Quirrell's threat if we ever made eye contact, and if he ever dimly realized I had been the one to throw him off his cursing of Harry Potter. Most of my time, I either spent practicing in the Room of Requirements, which was as safe as I could make her become, or in the library surrounded by other students.

I was minding my own business in that particular case, reading an interesting book on how to simplify the potion-making process for the wizard that just couldn't wait, when someone caught my attention, and I sharply lifted my gaze to come face to face with a certain trio that had the galls to tap on my shoulder.

It was a trio made of two Hufflepuffs and a Ravenclaw.

"May I help you?" I asked in a whisper.

"Can we study with you?" one of the two Hufflepuffs asked. I closed my book on simplifying potion-making processes and gave them a nod. I had already studied the material for the exams and had done the homework too, so I didn't understand what these three could actually want from me.

The Ravenclaw was a blond girl, quiet and seldom heard in the classroom. She had a round face, and wouldn't have looked out of place in a pastry shop. Her name was Amanda, Amanda Brocklehurst, Mandy for her friends. She was apparently friends with the other two Hufflepuffs. The other two were Wayne Hopkins and Megan Jones. The first was a pudgy boy that probably needed a toothbrush and to stop gorging himself on chocolate, with hazel hair and eyes and the latter was someone whose surname I vaguely remembered, perhaps another extended Fanon extra of some kind. She had dark hair and eyes.

"You can, but I'm quite the boring study partner," I replied.

They all sat around me, and pulled out their books and parchments. I glanced briefly at them, and then resumed my own reading. Was I being befriended through force? Was this a kind of orbital befriending thing?

"Would a bezoar work against the forgetfulness potion?" Wayne asked.

"It shouldn't, since it's not a poison," Amanda answered in a whisper.

"But what if it's mixed with a poison?" Megan thought aloud.

I flipped another page. "When would the mixing have occurred?" I asked, "Before or after completion of both the potion and the antidote? Do some ingredients still remain reactive past the bottling?"

"Ah," Wayne said. "If it's bottled before, then it's neither potions but something else."

I nodded, "Makes sense, and if it's mixed after, then it's probably just a poison."

"So it won't work?" Amanda asked.

"Not in my opinion," I quipped. "I may be wrong, but either it's a forgetfulness potion or it's a poison. It can't be both."

"Makes sense," Megan confirmed my words, and thus the trio resumed their scribbling. I resumed my reading, flipping through to the next page. "You already did your homework on the subject?" Megan asked, looking at me.

I looked back at Megan, and gave her a nod. I pulled the parchment out from my folder, and as I did that, Amanda muttered, "Aren't we being a bother, then?"

I shrugged her worry off. "I don't mind the company," I mumbled. "Writing down something, memorizing it, or understanding it are three different things. If I explain it to someone else, I'll understand it further."

When in doubt, find someone who hasn't understood it and then explain it to them as simply as you can. True mastery of a subject does not come when you think you know it. It comes when you are able to explain it properly, and simply, to those who are in need of learning it.

Hence, the reason why study groups were effective if they followed a clear leadership and hierarchy. One learned, studied and then explained. Through the efforts of one, everyone else rose by pulling their own weight.

If someone didn't, then that someone had to be thrown away.

I would not tolerate people coming in just to put their signatures at the end of the group project.

Though, perhaps, just to make an effort, I'd let this trio be.

They had been desperate enough to come looking for me after all.