Chapter 2
Attending potions each day was a testament to my nerves. I was disturbed by how intoxicating I found his scent, and I found myself thinking about it more than I’d like to to admit. There was something comforting about it, something familiar that I couldn’t place and it made me all the more anxious. Mostly because I knew he was a Legilimens, meaning at any point he could read my thoughts without me ever knowing, and I prayed to the gods that he never would. The mortification I would feel if he knew the absurd thoughts in my mind, would no doubt be my demise. Because it wasn’t just his enthralling scent, it was the mastery of his fingers at his craft and the elegant way he wrote each line of instructions. It was the darkness and mystery he shrouded himself in, and the cool, detached demeanor he displayed. And most of all, it was the sound of his voice, which made me feel like melting into a puddle at his feet. Its smooth, velvety baritone was enough the set my loins on fire. I had no idea what had come over me, except perhaps the incessant teasing of my friends for having never been intimate with someone.
I could see how in my delusions, imagining something completely unrealistic and unattainable seemed more fathomable than letting a person close enough to touch me, close enough to truly know me. That, in itself, was terrifying and was probably the driving force that kept me away from all romantic entanglements.
“Alyssa,” Celeste called out, snapping in front of my face.
“Sorry?” I asked, shaking my head slightly.
We were at lunch in the Great Hall three days later, and I couldn’t seem to focus on our conversation, my thoughts ravaged by the peculiarities of my wand and the delicious smell of my professor. My stomach clenched at that line of thought and I instantly disbanded it, for what felt like the tenth time that day.
“Ari said he got the book for you.”
She gestured to the thick tome resting on the table and I glanced up at him.
“Thank you,” I grinned, lifting it and immediately flipping through the pages.
“You’re welcome. Although, I couldn’t find the pages on the wand cores now which is strange. It’s like they vanished,” he said frowning.
I lifted a brow at him.
“It’s probably not in the book. Wasn’t that professor known to drag on about unfounded claims?” Elijah said rolling his eyes as he finished folding up a letter from his older brother. “Will just started training with the dragons in Romania.”
“Ooh, are you going to visit him at Christmas?” I asked, flipping through the tome.
“No, he said they don’t allow family around at that stage in training, but, he might get leave to come visit us.”
I scanned the table of contents and pursed my lips in confusion.
“It’s not even listed here, Ari. Are you sure she hadn’t just mentioned it in passing? Do you remember what she said or…know if it was even in this book?”
“No, I’m certain it was that one. I remember some strange illustrations. Maybe talk to Hagrid, I think he took that class over for this year.”
I nodded and glanced at the time displayed on one of the clocks nearby.
“I think I’ll go do that. I have some time before my afternoon classes.”
“Oy! He’s at the Quidditch pitch; I passed him on the way here,” Elijah told me.
I thanked him and went on my way, taking the shortcut through the castle to the field. As promised, Hagrid was there setting up something for afternoon flying classes. Madame Hooch often enlisted his help when he was free to assist with some of the more difficult courses she put the wannabe Qudditich players through in her classes.
Hagrid spotted me before I could call out to him, and set down some sort of broom contraption, smiling and offering a brief wave to me. I grinned up at the half-giant.
“Hi, Hagrid, how are you?”
“I’m doing quite well, Miss Hellstrand, and how about yourself?” He asked in that deep, burly voice of his.
I couldn’t help but love his cheery disposition. He had always been so kind to me, to everyone really.
“I’m well. I was talking with my friends the other day about some of our favorite classes at Hogwarts, and Ari mentioned he loved a class he had last year about Magical Oddities and their Properties,” I began, intentionally leaving out Ari having overheard Dumbledore’s and Snape’s discussion.
“Oh, really?” He nodded eagerly, scratching at his beard. “I’m teaching that this year, actually.”
“Yes,” I said, nodding, “so I heard. He was telling me about something they learned, about Phoenix-feather wand cores.”
Immediately his face twisted into surprise and discomfort. I hesitated as I continued, thinking of a way I could persuade him to tell me about them given his expression. His attention fell back to the contraption and he picked it up again, looking for something to do with his hands. He was nervous, but why?
“You see, I have a Phoenix-feather wand core, and I was just curious about its properties. Do you know anything about them?”
“Can’t say that I do,” he said, shaking his head.
I frowned. “It’s just odd. Ari was certain it was a discussed topic last year when Madame Thompson was here. They only spent one day discussing it but he promised to give me his copy of the textbook, and now that I have it—“
“You have the book?” He asked, jolting upright and looking down at me.
I opened my mouth to speak, but one glance at the tome in my hand was enough for him to slip it from my grasp and flip through it.
“There’s no mention of it in there…” I explained curiously.
“We both checked. That’s why I came to you, to see if it’s mentioned in the new edition you’re teaching from. Could I have a copy of it?”
“No, no, no,” he shook his head, flipping anxiously through the pages before returning it to me, seemingly relieved, “we use a different book now, no mention of wand cores. Sorry about that. I should finish this, now—“
“That is odd, don’t you think?” I repeated. “It’s almost as if someone intentionally removed that section of the book. It’s not even mentioned in the table of contents, and ordinarily I would say that perhaps my friend was mistaken but Ari is not one to—“
“I can’t help you, Miss Hellstrand, truly. Perhaps you ought to ask Professor Snape, he would be the one to help you there,” he rushed out, fumbling clumsily with the locking mechanism now.
My brows scrunched in confusion.
“Professor Snape? Why would he know about Phoenix-feather wand cores?”
The color leeched from his face and he glanced up at the hill behind me.
“I should not have said that. I should not have said that. Miss Hellstrand, please, you’ll be late for your next class. Don’t ask Professor Snape, ah, shite, erm, don’t —“
My eyes widened as his language. As far as I knew, Hagrid had never cursed in front of a student.
“Miss Hellstrand, I’d really advise you to perhaps seek Madame Pomfrey out if you’re experiencing any symptoms from the—“
“Symptoms? From the wand? So you do know something about it?”
He cursed again, this time releasing a string of them as his eyes darted anxiously around, the item in his hand clanking noisily.
“I shouldn’t have said that. Shouldn’t have said that,” he huffed.
“Miss Hellstrand, please,” he begged, desperately searching my face.
I understood then that he knew something he was certainly not allowed to share, and had it been any other professor, I wouldn’t have been so easily dissuaded. But this was Hagrid, a man who already had his magical privileges revoked, and I wouldn’t allow anything else to come from my insatiable curiosity. I would just have to seek answers elsewhere. I nodded and relented.
“Thank you, Hagrid,” I called out, and jogged back up the hill.