Curious, not stupid
“Hey, dude, are you even listening?” Silas asks, snapping his fingers in my face.
No, I’m not. I couldn’t care less about what he has to say about whatever insignificant thing he is rambling on about. I have better things to think about, like the scene of the greenhouse that refuses to leave my mind. It’s as if my thought process has been defiled just by the fact that someone took all of that dittany after tearing apart some of the devil’s snare and I don’t know why. There is no reason someone would need that much dittany. It’s simply insane. Either they’re mad, they have a giant in need of medical attention, or there’s something bigger going on.
“What do you want, Silas? I’m busy.”
“Busy doing what? Staring off into space? C’mon, pay attention. I was trying to ask if you want me to set you up with Cora! You’re nearly sixteen and still haven’t had a relationship. Let me give you a nudgee,” I roll my eyes.
“Cora Leveret? That snob? Please, I’m not even remotely interested in her. Nor is she in me,” I look him dead in the eye, putting my book to the side, “And you’re one to talk, Mr. closet ga-” He shushes me.
“Shut up, I am no such thing.”
“Yeah? Then why so defensive?”
He gives me a look that makes me tempted to smirk, but I don’t. We both know well that he is, in fact, gay. He told me last summer while I was at his house. We then talked about the boys we thought were cute in our house. Or, rather, we discussed who he’d be cute with. Surprisingly, he likes Sullivan Starling, a Hufflepuff student. He is quite muscular, but I wouldn’t really date him. I wouldn’t really date anyone if I’m being honest. I don’t want to touch anyone, I don’t want to be touched, I don’t want to kiss or be kissed and I certainly don’t want to waste money on frivolous things like roses and dinner.
“If you’re such a romantic then go get a boyfriend and leave me alone,” I say, still staring at him.
“If you're going to be such a git then go fuck yourself,” He counters.
“What a great comeback,” I say sarcastically.
“Shut up.”
He sits next to me on the sofa, the one we always sit on. The one furthest from the stone wall that parts for those with the password. If he were anyone else I would be uncomfortable, but after about ten years of knowing him I think I can handle sitting next to him for a few minutes.
He respects my boundaries, and I respect his. Not that he has many. His boundaries consist of just being a decent human being. Don't be a dick, don't touch him below the belt, and don't play mind games with him. Mine are more of ‘don't touch me or I'll slit your throat.’
What I like about him is that we can just sit in silence and it's not awkward in the slightest. It's comfortable for both of us. He does his thing and I do mine, and apparently my thing today is obsess over who the hell could have put the greenhouse in that state last night, and what they were trying to achieve. Not to mention how they managed to get in without breaking the lock but didn't know that devil’s snare will leave you alone if you shine a light on it.
Perhaps it's just some first year being curious about carnivorous plants. That's the best plausible excuse I can think of. It's the best case scenario, though. The best case scenario is very rarely the real one.
After a few minutes of silence I ask him, “If someone took a large amount of dittany, what's the worst they could do with it?”
“That's an odd question.”
“Just answer it.”
He laughs, “Dittany can't do much harm. The only ways it could do harm is if someone were to make it into a potion to alter its properties or use it to heal someone like a criminal.”
“Could someone really do that? Who all survived the battle?”
He nods, “A lot of people survived the battle. Most of the death eaters are in Azkaban, though. Only a few were pardoned. Professor Gaunt, for example.”
“Were there any exceptions for that?”
“Why are you asking me? Shouldn’t you be asking a professor?” He asks.
“I’d prefer to go to them as a last resort.”
“Why are you even asking about this? Why the sudden interest in death eaters? You’re not going dark, are you?”
He’s daft if he even considers that as a possibility. I will avoid a handshake if possible. The prospect of me hurting someone is very little. Even if I used wand magic there’s a chance of them bleeding, and blood is messy.
“You best be joking. I have no desire to, as you put it, ‘go dark,’” I say as I get up, exiting the library.
He follows me, as he always does. It’s not a surprise. In fact, I’m counting on it. I always drag him along. Or, rather, he follows me around like a lost little dog. It’s amusing, this dark haired skyscraper of a pure-blood wizard following around an emotionless half-breed. I can’t say I hate it, though.
“Well, that’s at least somewhat reassuring. Still, why are you so curious all of the sudden? It’s not like you,” He asks.
“That’s none of your business. It’s between me, myself, and I.”
“If it’s none of my business then don’t ask me about it. Maybe go to someone who has first-hand experience with dittany. Someone who knows what they’re talking about.”
I raise an eyebrow as I look at him while we exit the castle. We walk a few yards in silence until we reach a quiet part of the forest. A clearing where it seems none of the creatures ever go. I found it a few years back and we’ve been going here ever since. The only creatures that come here are the occasional bird or deer. I don’t know why, but mongrels, centaurs, transformed werewolves - they never come here. Even on a full moon this clearing is perfectly safe.
“Oh? Have anyone in mind? Don’t suggest Longbottom, me and him don’t see eye to eye on most things,” I say, lighting a joint with my wand.
“You could go to Professor Snape. Potions and herbology go hand-in-hand.”
“He’s a git,” I say bluntly, “Half the time I can’t tell whether he wants to kill me or not. Even his praise feels like an insult.”
He chuckles dryly and takes the joint from my fingers, warranting a harsh look, “Sounds a bit like you,” He takes a puff and I snatch it back as he continues, “What about Professor Gaunt? She’s the next best option.”
I sigh and take a blinker hit before speaking again, “I suppose she could be useful.”
We smoke a bit before heading back to the castle. I barely managed to get a high, but I’ll have to wait until morning to go to Professor Gaunt. She’d be able to smell even the slightest hint of pot on me. I’ll visit her office after classes tomorrow.
I knock on the open door of her office, “Professor,” I greet.
“Mr. Cruentavis. What a pleasure. Please, come in. Have a seat. What can I help you with?”
I sit in the chair across from her desk, “I’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh course, that’s my job.”
“Dittany has medicinal purposes, but what are the limits of that? What’s the extent of the wounds it can heal?”
She pauses to think, “This is a question better posed to Professor Longbottom, don’t you think?”
“If I wanted to ask Professor Longbottim I would have, but I didn’t. Can you just answer the question?”
She glares at me and tilts her chin up, “Mind your manners while in my office,” She warns before continuing, “I nearly died during the war. Not only was I attacked by Fenrir Greyback, but I dueled with Voldemort himself to protect the man I love. My wounds were cursed, and therefore could not be healed using any charm,” She pauses, “They were healed within three weeks using essence of dittany as a treatment. Dittany is versatile. It can heal the deepest wounds if concentrated enough, and if you can handle pain well. Dittany is helpful, but it hurts. It burns in deep wounds, like you’ve been set aflame.”
“Using all the leaves from one dittany plant, what could be healed?”
“What size plant is it?”
“A rather large one. Like the ones they keep in the greenhouses.”
She raises an eyebrow, “Do you plan on steaking from the greenhouses to heal someone?”
I shake my head, “No, not me. I’d visit the hospital wing. It’s mere curiosity, that’s all,” I pause, “Can you tell me a bit about the battle?”
“What do you want to know about it?”
“The people involved, who was wounded, who was killed, and the sort.”
“While I would love to tell you about all of that, we’d be here all day. There were thousands of people involved. Many died, and nearly all were injured.”
“Then tell me your perspective of it.”
“Very well. On the day of the battle I stood next to my cousin, Voldemort. I did my best to buy time for those in Hogwarts, trying to make their shield last, but it was of no use. Once the shield broke I stayed toward the back of the pack, killing off the slower death eaters. There was an explosion from the east. My friend, Scabior, was unfortunately killed as a result. All of the chaos and noise led me to have a panic attack. I fled, and somehow made it to one of the secret passages in hogwarts. I hid, like a coward. I hid until I managed to convince myself to fight. I killed more people than I’d like to admit, fighting side by side with Remus Lupin. Fenrir clawed me,” She gestures to her face, “Bit my shoulder and forearm. Remus managed to throw him off enough for me to use wandless magic to kill him. After that I saw Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley slipping through the battle towards the shrieking shack. I followed them. Severus Snape and Voldemort were discussing the elder wand. Voldemort drew his wand to kill Severus. Later I was found bleeding out on the floor by the very man I was trying to protect. When I woke after three days I was barely alive. I then learned that, while Remus and Severus survived, Bellatrix Lestrange, whom I was close with, was killed,” She shrugs, “I’m close with her killer now.”
“So Bellatrix, Fenrir, and Scabior died?” I ask.
“Among others, yes.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate this, and I am glad you survived the battle.”
It’s not a lie, either. I’m glad she survived. She could very well have died, just like the people she mentioned. It’s none of my business how her mental health is, nor her life story, but that doesn’t stop me from wondering. I refrain from asking about it, though. I get up and turn to leave, but she stops me.
“Zaros,” She says.
“Yes, Professor Gaunt?”
“If you’re planning on doing something stupid, I’d like for you to come to me first, alright? I can’t stop you from doing stupid things, but I can help you not get yourself killed. We don’t need another student dying at Hogwarts.”
I nod, but I know well that I’m not going to be going to her. I’m not going to anyone. I’m not going to do anything. I’ll watch this play out and think up a million scenarios about what might happen, but I’m not going to do anything. Doing something could be dangerous and stupid. Someone would have to be daft to pursue the person who broke into the greenhouses that night. I can think about it all I want without intending on doing anything. I’m curious, not stupid.