The day that Quidditch tryouts rolled around, I went off on my own. I'd never been a big sports guy. One that involved flying? Yeah, keep me far away from that.
It felt like I was one of the only people in the castle who didn't show up to that tryout. From far off, I could see the Quidditch field swarming with so many bodies that they looked like ants. People who weren't there to try out had crowded the stands to watch. I don't know if they were watching the Quidditch or Harry.
I was starting to notice that he was crazy popular. Like, girls would pass him in the hallways and giggle to each other. Younger kids would freeze and stare at him eating breakfast to sear the image into their memories. I'm talking about rockstar levels of fame. From what Hermione said, part of it was guilt.
Harry was the first to know Voldemort had come back. He tried to tell everyone. A few people, like Dumbledore and the Order, believed him. The rest of the world called him crazy, moved on to worse names than that, and did anything they could to shut him up.
But Harry was right. Eventually, proof was shoved in their faces. Now, to these kids, Harry wasn't just a hero. He was a troubled hero who battled through ostracization.
He was their hope.
They were clinging to him, praying that he was everything they needed him to be. Combine that with his looks, and I was surprised we hadn't needed to start scraping girls off of him.
He should at least get laid once, if he hadn't already. I know that's what I would've done if the Battle of New York happened a few years later in my life.
I turned my back on the quidditch field, which I was looking at from another hill on the Hogwarts grounds. The golden trio could handle that on their own— I was going to use this day off to take care of something I'd been waiting to do.
I hadn't gone far when a girl ran the other way. She had blond hair the color of hay that'd been split into long pigtails, which swished beside her while she ran. Her face was flushed. She was breathing erratically, not used to going as fast as she was for as long as she had been. The girl stopped in front of me.
"Have you seen a girl with red hair?" she asked. "Freckles around her nose? She's a Hufflepuff, like I am…"
"Haven't seen her," I said. "Sorry."
The girl made a groan that sounded like a whimper. "Thank you anyway."
She jogged past me, and I turned my head to watch her go. I hoped she found her friend.
I didn't expect to do it first.
My destination was the Great Lake. I was looking for a spot where no one was likely to pass by. That would make it easier to walk into the lake, clothes and all, and not start a panic when I didn't come back up.
I guess the blond's friend had the same idea. Probably not for the same reason, but she also wanted a secluded spot. I found her sitting on the shore, her shoes and socks taken off, dipping her toes in the water's glassy surface.
I could tell it was the right girl because she hit all the criteria. Hufflepuff? Check. Red hair? Check. Freckles? Also check. But her friend hadn't mentioned her looks.
She'd been crying. There were red lines through the whites of her eyes. They made her blue irises really pop, reminding me of a daughter of Zeus. The rest of her face was different from Thalia's regal prettiness. This girl had a rounded face and cheekbones that reminded me of one of Demeter's kids. She had the kind of cheeks that made you want to kiss them and pinch them in equal amounts.
As for her body… even without trying to look, I could see how gifted she was.
I stared at her for probably a few minutes, waiting for her to notice me. She acted like I didn't exist. I'm not sure if she was ignoring me, though. She was looking at the water so intently she might not have seen me.
"Are you alright?" I asked.
The only movement was her eyes, which left the water to look at me. They went back a second later.
I watched her for a while longer. Finally, I decided not to bother her. I walked into the water with an even stride, leaving her behind on the shore. She didn't even look over to notice where I'd gone.
Once I was submerged, I felt the surge of strength that comes whenever I'm in my element. I swam with the current propelling me and headed down. The Great Lake was deep, with light struggling to reach the sandy bottom. Not that something like that would slow me down.
The thing I was here to see met me halfway.
Two tentacles came first out of the dark, reaching for my body. When I didn't fight back, letting them wrap around my arms, eight shorter arms followed. Instead of pulling me to its mouth the way they usually treated things that they grabbed, the arms did the equivalent of a dog giving a kiss.
"Hey! Stop it! That tickles!"
The giant squid understood English. He wasn't even surprised to hear me speak underwater. That's another one of the things I get from my dad, just like aquatic breathing and immunity to water pressure.
"Nice to meet you too!" I said, laughing and sending bubbles to the surface.
As far as I could tell, other than his intelligence, the squid wasn't magical in any way. He was as big as its species could get. From the tip of the tentacles to the crown of his mantle was at least twelve meters. He'd turned his body to point his eye at me.
"How'd you get down here?" I wondered.
The Great Lake was landlocked. The squid swung his tentacles, kind of looking like he was trying to communicate something, but I didn't speak mollusk ASL. Or would that be MSL?
The squid let go of my arms and swam in two fast circles around me. Suddenly, he shot toward the lake floor.
Just as fast, he zoomed back back to me carrying something in his tentacles. It was a rusted anchor for a moderately sized ship. The squid hefted it, holding the anchor out to me. The gleam in his eye reminded me of Mrs. O'Leary.
"Yeah, okay buddy. Go long!"
I took the anchor from him. Spinning in a circle, I built up speed before letting go. The anchor flew through the murky water and the squid shot after it.
Less than a minute later, he was back and holding the anchor out.
The poor guy must have been lonely. I heard Hermione say something about merpeople in the lake, but they sounded like a pretty distant relative from my dad's subjects in Atlantis. Unless it was just biased wizard talk, these Merpeople were supposed to be primitive and aggressive. Not great as your only source of company.
We played fetch with the anchor for a half an hour. When it was time to say goodbye, the squid let me scratch him around his beak. If you scritched in the right spot, his tentacles would crook at the ends and he'd make little chittering sounds.
"I'll come back soon," I promised him. "Next time, I'll bring treats."
Hagrid seemed to like the squid. I was sure he'd have something the mollusk would want to munch on.
I kicked my feet and swam back to shore. Behind me, the squid waved its tentacles, still holding the anchor we used for a toy.
The redhead was sitting in the same spot when I breached the water. She wasn't as zoned out as I thought. The time, she looked at me. I let my hair and clothes get wet to avoid suspicion as I hauled myself out of the lake.
The girl finally spoke!
First, she sighed, before following it up with, "Even time feels slow now. One minute felt like thirty…"
I think she was misunderstanding how long I had been underwater. "Your friend is looking for you," I said.
"I don't want to see her."
"Well, if you do, I'm sure she won't be hard to find. Usually, it's best not to be alone for too long. That's when you can get funny thoughts."
The girl was in grief. I could smell it on her. In case you're wondering, trauma smells acrid, like socks left in mud.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Susan." She looked like she didn't want to answer, but she did. "I'd like to stop talking now."
I walked away. In my experience — from being on both sides of this kind of talk — being pushy only made things worse. I was sure she'd be okay. Even if she did something crazy with the lake, the Giant Squid would pull her out.
When I got out of her line of sight, the water clinging to my body disappeared, and my steps stopped squeaking. By the time I got back to Hogwarts, it was already time for lunch.
O-O-O
Harry and I reunited in the late afternoon. He looked half-dead on his feet.
"Busy tryouts?"
"Hufflepuffs showed up," he said. "There were even a few Ravenclaws. For the Gryffindor Quidditch team."
"I think they were there for you," I informed him.
"Yeah. Hermione said that too." He glowered, his pupils pointed down at the rims of his glasses. "Unfortunately, you're both right."
His day wasn't likely to get better from here. We had detention with Snape.
Meeting Dumbledore delayed our punishment for an extra week, but it was time to face the defense professor. I had a sinking feeling this wouldn't be our last meeting. Really, it's not my fault. I'm the kind of guy who can't keep his mouth shut, even around gods capable of atomizing me in seconds. When someone says something I don't like, I end up calling them on it.
Severus Snape would say lots of things I didn't like. His go-to punishment seemed to be detention. So… I expected to see a lot of his office.
Tonight, our detention was being held in the classroom where we earned it. When we walked in, it was set up the way Harry hoped Dumbledore's office would be last week— with lots of cleared space, perfect for dueling and practicing magic.
Snape was standing next to the wall. His back was so straight and his hair was so pale that he looked like a vampire in an invisible coffin. His hands appeared from the folds of his billowing robes, already holding his wand. I took a half-step forward and to the left, slightly in front of Harry.
"You are on time. It appears you can, on occasion, display punctuality," Snape drawled. "Prepare yourselves."
"Prepare for what?" Harry asked.
Snape lifted one eyebrow, thin and dark against his pale skin. "For supplemental lessons. Given your abysmal failures in the art of silent casting, I would be remiss to leave students with such a gap in their knowledge."
Snape moved in his prowly way to one end of the room's open space. His eyes landed on Harry. "Potter first."
"Potter first for what?" I asked. I hadn't moved out of the way.
"A duel, Mr. Jackson. One performed silently. As repetition is the mother of learning, we will be making the most of our time. If at any point you strike me with a silently cast spell, you will both be free to go. Otherwise, I intend to keep you for the next hour and a half. Do you understand?"
Harry looked conflicted, anger from Snape's insults warring with excitement at the idea of cursing the greasy professor. "I'll do it," he said.
"It was not, in fact, a choice."
I finally moved. We were going one at a time, so I got to watch Harry take a position across from Snape. He took out his holly wand. Harry's eyes were sharp. All the fatigue from Quidditch tryouts disappeared as he watched Snape like a hawk. I was impressed. The way he could sharpen his mind reminded me of the battle instincts us full-blooded demigods have.
"Begin!" Snape said.
Harry jabbed his wand. It didn't create a spell. Snape swung his, moving it in a shape that reminded me of the McDonald's logo. Harry was spun around like someone grabbed his shoulder and pulled him.
He stumbled to the side, just staying up. He growled through clenched teeth. This time, he slashed the air with his wand. Changing spells didn't help him make a successful cast. Snape used his wand lazily. Harry's wand was torn out of his hand while his body was pushed back, his lower back hitting one of the desks just hard enough to bruise. Snape caught his wand, looked at it down his long hooked nose, and tossed it away. It landed three-fourths of the way to Harry, who walked stiffly to pick it up.
Snape didn't gloat verbally. His eyes fell on me. "Next."
I passed Harry on the way to stand where he'd stood. Even if it was a practice one, a duel felt like a fight; I had to ignore the urge to grab Riptide. I took my wand out and held it a little like a sword. Snape's disdain was obvious.
Snape didn't formally announce the start this time. He cast first, moving his wand like he was drawing a question mark.
The spell hit me. I thought it would be like in class, when all it did was weaken my legs or make me blink. Instead, my legs almost buckled.
The feeling was at least five times stronger than any spell I'd been hit with before. I stood up through it, so to Harry who was watching, it must've seemed like nothing, but my eyes sharpened. Snape was bringing out bigger guns.
His eyes didn't flinch when he saw me tank the spell. Suddenly, an idea came to me. From what I'd seen, Snape wasn't the kind of teacher to offer supplemental lessons for something silly like helping his students. Before, I thought the point of these duels was to throw us around and get his frustration out.
But he was too serious. He didn't look angry enough about his spell not working. He wanted something. When I took his spells like they were nothing, I became an enigma. This was a test. He wanted to find my limits, to figure out what I was.
I had a plan of my own. Snape made a mistake when he offered to let us go early. No matter what it took, I was going to 'win' this silent duel.
I stopped letting Snape hit me. After his last spell didn't work, he was bound to bring out a bigger one. If I shrugged that off, he'd upgrade again. He was going to curse me until I finally broke. Before we got there, I started moving.
I ducked and weaved through the open space. Spells were fast, but my reflexes were faster. I could move out of the way of each spell the second after it was cast. I darted between three quick spells. Finally, I brought my wand up.
"Aguamenti!" I said at full-volume.
From what they told me, it was a spell usually taught to sixth years, but Hermione said that was only because it wasn't considered important. The difficulty was apparently around that of a third year spell. All I knew was that after running through the basics for a first year, I'd gotten this spell down in just three days of hard work.
And it was my baby. My beloved. The best spell ever, with no competition.
Water shot from my wand-tip like the wood was a garden hose. It hit a shield that Snape conjured and spilled all over the ground, forming puddles.
"Five points from Gryffindor for failure to follow the simplest of instructions," Snape said.
I still didn't understand why I was supposed to care about imaginary points, but I acted like I was embarrassed. "I'm sorry. It was just a reaction. I wasn't thinking."
"Then see that you start now."
Snape sent a spell at me with an ugly yellow color. Whatever it was, I definitely didn't want it to hit me, so I ducked. He left the water pooled on the floor. I think he was hoping I would slip while I jumped around.
I did step in a puddle. I just didn't do it the way Snape expected.
My dodging took me to the deepest puddle. As I got close to it, Snape moved his wand in a distinctive way— there was a big curve, like a waning moon, before he slashed his wand back the way it came.
My left ankle was pulled out from under me. The spell would've flipped me over and pulled me into the air if I let it work. Instead, I stopped my leg.
Wrenching free from the magic's tug, I smashed my foot into the puddle. Water flew everywhere.
I put my weight forward, making it look like the stomp was just to cast my next spell. I repeated the wand movement for my baby— I mean, Aguamenti. It was like an S turned on its side. When I finished the move, water shot from my wand.
I wasn't actually conjuring it. I gathered all the water I'd sprayed in the air and turned it into a beam with my dad's powers. And Snape? He didn't even make a shield.
He'd been attacking, and attacking, and attacking. He was sure I couldn't cast anything silently. He was right. But from his point of view, it looked like I'd just done a perfect Aguamenti.
Snape sputtered as water hit his face. It was probably good for his oily hair.
Snape spat water that had gotten into his mouth. It looked for a second like he was going to curse me, keeping the duel going. Then he dropped his hand to his side.
"Out," he growled.
I think he was most angry that hadn't managed to figure me out. I turned and jogged to Harry, who was staring at Snape with his mouth slightly open. He'd looked dazed ever since Snape tried to dangle me by the leg.
"Let's go! To freedom!" I said.
I pulled Harry through the door before Snape could go back on his word. The defense professor was standing very still. As we left, you could see him swing his wand, drying himself and getting rid of the water around him. He kept looking at the place where the puddle had been, muttering to himself.
When it was clear we were safe, I held my palm up. Harry completed the high-five. I expected him to be smiling, but he looked weirdly subdued.
"That spell Snape used on you before the end… What did it do?" Harry asked
I wasn't sure why that mattered to him. "It tried to lift me up by my ankle. Why?"
"No reason," Harry said, which is a funny answer, because anyone who says that always has a reason.
Not that I cared enough to go digging for it.
"The next time Dumbledore meets with us, we'll probably use his Pensieve again, right?" I asked.
Harry furrowed his brow. "Probably, I imagine."
"Do you think he'd let us bottle that memory of Snape?"
He didn't have to clarify which one I meant. Snape standing in soaked clothes with his dark hair matted up, droplets of water running down his face. He'd looked like a black cat hauled out of the ocean. I knew the taste must have been bad, too, because for some reason my Aguamenti always conjured saltwater.
Finally, Harry cracked a smile, following it up with a giggle.
"Maybe if we bring him enough lemon drops," he suggested.
I was going to give it a try. I needed that memory saved.