[Note: Read up to Chapter - 104 on P patron at: p-atreon.com/Knockturn_Alley]
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"Aris, over here!"
No sooner had he stepped into the Great Hall than Aris heard someone calling out. He turned to see Ronald standing and waving him over.
"Ronald, Harry," he greeted with a smile, making his way over and sitting down beside the pair.
It was just after morning classes, and the younger students had bolted to the hall like a pack of starving Nifflers. Quite a few had skipped breakfast, rushing off to class bleary-eyed and empty-bellied—so by now, they were practically keeling over from hunger.
"Oh, Hermione—you're here too!"
Aris only noticed the curly-haired girl when he sat down. She was quietly eating, head bowed, poking at her plate like the food had offended her.
"She did brilliant in Charms this morning," Harry whispered. "Got her feather floating perfectly and all. Was well chuffed about it, too. But then..."
"Then everyone started chattering about your Charms class performance," Ronald jumped in. "I mean—blimey, a silent Levitation Charm? That's mental! First-years aren't supposed to manage anything like that!"
"Yeah, a lot of seniors even said that never heard of any other firstie pulling that off in the first class," Harry added with a grin. "You're honestly a bit of a legend right now."
"So..." Aris leaned forward slightly. "Hermione's moping because of that?"
"Well, not just that," Harry replied. "She also caught wind of what you did in Transfiguration."
Aris raised a brow. "Didn't she already know I'm decent at Transfiguration? She saw me turn that mouse into a goblet on the train, didn't she?"
"That's why it's worse," Ronald said with a sigh. "The more she tries to beat you, the more out of reach you seem. Proper frustrating, that."
Both boys let out a sympathetic groan, as if Hermione's despair had somehow infected them too.
Aris could only shake his head in exasperation.
He turned and looked over at the other sulking figure—Hermione Granger.
"Hermione, you've every right to feel proud too," he said after a moment, flashing her a warm smile. "You do realise not a single Ravenclaw managed to pull off the Levitation Charm in our first class, don't you?"
"In fact, you're already considered top of the year in most people's eyes."
Hearing that, the little witch finally looked up, her pouty expression softening ever so slightly.
"Even so," she muttered, "it doesn't make me feel any better."
She took a rather dramatic bite of sausage, then chased it with a few quick gulps of pumpkin porridge.
"Forget it. If I'm not as naturally gifted, then I'll just have to try harder, won't I?"
Without waiting for a response, she grabbed her satchel, slung it over one shoulder, and stalked off towards the library.
Aris glanced back at Harry and Ronald and gave them each a solid pat on the shoulder. "See that? You two ought to be ashamed."
With that, he picked up a chicken leg from the table, gave it a satisfied bite, and strolled leisurely in the same direction.
There was still about an hour before afternoon lessons kicked off.
No point schlepping all the way back to the dorm just for a nap—by the time he got there and back, half the time would be wasted. He figured he'd rather nip to the library and skim through a few chapters. If he felt too knackered, he'd just doze off at the desk.
Sure, Madam Pince might kick him out for it, but that was still better than trekking up to the Ravenclaw tower.
He'd also considered popping into the Room of Requirement to tidy up his lab setup—but an hour was nowhere near enough to sort through all his gear.
Just as he settled into a seat with a book in hand, Hermione looked over in surprise.
"You're in the library too?" she asked.
"Come to read, of course," Aris replied matter-of-factly.
"You're already brilliant—why're you still trying so hard?" Miss Know-It-All muttered, clearly miffed.
At this point, she must've been feeling properly vexed. Aris was being utterly insufferable!
She was already top of the class—and now he had to come along and outshine her at every turn?
Leave a little glory for the rest, would you?
"It's because I work hard that I'm any good at all," Aris said casually. "Thought you, of all people, would know that."
"Obviously I do," Hermione huffed, burying her face deeper in her book, refusing to look his way.
"You know," Aris said mildly, "you'd probably enjoy yourself more if you changed your perspective a bit."
"How d'you figure?"
"Well, with me around, any time you're stuck, you can just ask. I'm always happy to help," he said with a small grin. "Not too bad, right?"
"Cheers," she muttered without looking up.
Aris smiled to himself. Honestly, she was kind of adorable when she was flustered.
Harry and Ron, on the other hand, seemed to spend half their time scheming or getting into trouble. He really couldn't understand what went on in their heads.
No, it simply wouldn't do to let a bright girl like Hermione get dragged into their nonsense.
The two of them sat quietly, reading side by side.
From time to time, Aris noticed her hesitate—eyes lingering on a passage, brows furrowed, lips twitching as though she wanted to speak.
She was clearly stuck on something but too proud to ask.
Aris didn't offer help. Not yet.
This sort of thing… it had to come from her.
If he offered first, it'd feel too much like a lecture—and he didn't want to come across as patronising.
If he said anything now, the little witch might just retreat further into her shell.
…
Later that afternoon — Defence Against the Dark Arts.
This class was shared between Ravenclaw and Slytherin.
When Aris arrived, he spotted Malfoy already in the room, flanked by his usual cronies. The trio were deep in conversation, with Malfoy boasting in that typical pompous tone of his.
"I swear, none of you have ever had an experience like mine!" he was saying dramatically. "D'you lot even know what vampire teeth look like?"
"Aren't they just fangs?" Crabbe offered helpfully. "I heard they're dead sharp."
"It's not just the fangs," Malfoy said, puffing up with more nonsense. "You do know they drink blood, right? The last one I ran into had blood still dripping from its fangs—proper terrifying!"
He leaned in, eyes wide. "And if it bares its teeth at you, don't think twice—leg it. Odds are, it's not full yet and you're looking like dessert!"
"'Scuse me, move aside, would you?"
The bragging was suddenly cut off by a calm voice from behind.
"Who the hell do you think—" Malfoy spun around, only for the words to die in his throat when he saw who it was.
Aris stood there, a pleasant smile on his face.
"Sh… Shafiq!" Malfoy straightened his robe awkwardly and quickly plastered on a grin. "Didn't see you there, mate. I was just heading back to my seat anyway—go right ahead!"
"Cheers," Aris said with a nod, then casually reached out and smoothed down Malfoy's overly slicked-back hair. "Nice work on the hair. Bit much, though."
He took his seat across the aisle from Malfoy, leaned back, and added cheerfully, "By the way…"
"After a vampire drinks blood, it doesn't actually leave any behind on its teeth—just like how drinking pumpkin juice doesn't leave your teeth stained red, yeah?"
"And for someone like you, mate, if a vampire's already decided you're lunch, it's far too late to leg it—unless you've mastered Apparition, which I highly doubt."
"Next time you feel like showing off, try thinking it through a bit. Otherwise, you just end up sounding daft, don't you? Got that?"
Aris even gave the reminder with genuine kindness—as if he were truly worried Malfoy might not take the lesson to heart.
Everyone waited for Malfoy to snap back.
But to their shock, he simply nodded and muttered, "Yeah… got it. Cheers."
"Well then, not bad!" Aris nodded approvingly. "You can be taught."
Looks like under Aris's gentle mentorship, young Master Malfoy was finally learning the fine art of humility.
Lovely, isn't it? Humble folk tend to get on far better in life.
After that little exchange, the classroom buzzed with murmurs.
"Blimey, did you see that? Malfoy just folded—like a wet parchment!"
"That's the heir of the Shafiq family for you. Even Slytherin's golden boy doesn't dare cross him."
"I heard he's already shown prodigious skill in both Transfiguration and Charms. Now it all makes sense..."
"No wonder he had the nerve to speak up at the welcome feast. He's got the talent to back it up."
Malfoy's expression darkened as he overheard the whispers, but even so, he kept his head down and stayed put.
Even Crabbe and Goyle looked confused—this wasn't the Malfoy they were used to.
Aris ignored the murmuring entirely and turned to ask Terry and Anthony behind him, "Oi, d'you know when Professor Quirrell's supposed to show up?"
"It's about time for class. He should be here any moment. Maybe—"
Before Terry could finish, the door at the top of the spiral staircase behind the podium creaked open.
That was the office of the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor—where the teacher usually holed up between lessons.
Out stepped Professor Quirrell, wrapped in a thick turban and moving like he was afraid of his own shadow.
"H-Hello. M-My name is Q-Quirinus Q-Quirrell. I'll be t-teaching you D-Defence Against the D-Dark Arts class t-this year…"
As he entered, Aris sharply noticed Quirrell's eyes lingered on him for just a moment—just a flicker—but enough to catch.
Then he quickly looked away.
Quirrell shuffled to the front, placed his textbook down on the lectern, and muttered in that ever-nervous tone of his,
"Please open your textbooks. T-Today we'll be covering the theory from the first chapter, so you can put your wands away for now…"
Aris raised an eyebrow, stared at the professor for a few seconds, then let out a faint chuckle.
Who would've thought? The lingering remnant of Voldemort—once the most feared dark wizard of the age—now reduced to hiding inside the body of this twitchy, stammering bloke.
Charming, really.
He doubted even Dumbledore had clocked it yet.
Still, something didn't add up. With Dumbledore's keen instincts, it was hard to believe he'd miss something this glaring. So, how had Quirrell managed to slip past him?
What trick had he used to dodge the old Dumbledore's eye?
As Quirrell began to drone through the textbook word for word, most of the students who'd missed their nap started nodding off in their seats.
And Aris? He was thoroughly unimpressed.
He already knew everything in the textbook by heart.
Now, if the professor had at least demonstrated a few practical Defence spells—maybe a shield charm, or a disarming curse—he might've stayed somewhat engaged.
But this? This was just painfully dull.
But at that moment, Aris truly didn't want to sit through even another minute of it. It was a complete waste of time.
"Professor!" he called out, raising his hand without hesitation.
"Mr Shafiq, do you have a question?" Quirrell blinked in surprise—clearly not expecting Aris to interrupt his monotonous reading. His voice came out cautious, almost wary.
"I do, actually," Aris replied, pausing as if to consider his words. "Yesterday, I was reading a book that mentioned a curious theory about the soul…"
As soon as Aris said the word soul, Professor Quirrell's expression shifted ever so slightly.
"So, my question is this…" Aris continued, his tone sharpening with focus.
"If a wizard, say, used certain dark methods to leave behind a remnant of their soul after death… could they use it to possess another person?"
Quirrell's eyes flickered. "W-Which book did you read that in?" he asked, far too quickly. His voice had suddenly jumped an octave—sharper, almost accusatory.
The students around them glanced at one another in confusion. They'd never seen Professor Quirrell like this—rattled and twitchy even beyond his usual self.
Unbothered, Aris held his gaze and answered coolly,
"It's from a book called Strange Magic Puzzles and Their Solutions. Unfortunately, it didn't give a clear answer to that question—so I figured I'd ask someone who might know better."
Quirrell seemed to come to his senses at that, realising his reaction had drawn attention. He cleared his throat and softened his tone, slipping back into his usual nervous stammer.
"M-Mr Shafiq, I-I think… I should warn you… meddling in the mysteries of the soul is a d-dark road, and one that even fully grown wizards tend to avoid…"
"I mean, it's far too advanced a question for someone your age—it's not something you need to worry about just yet."
"Professor… you mean, you don't know the answer?" Aris asked again, his expression innocent, almost childlike in curiosity.
Quirrell's face twisted through a range of emotions. He looked like he was wrestling with something inside his head, but in the end, he gave a weak shake of his head.
Then, in a voice so timid it bordered on pathetic, he muttered, "No… that's right. I can't answer that question."
"In that case..." Aris said, a pleasant smile creeping onto his face, "I just remembered—Headmaster Dumbledore wanted to have a word with me."
At that point, Quirrell looked like he could've kissed him goodbye. He clearly wanted Aris gone, and wasn't about to argue. Truth be told, he'd already heard about Aris's ridiculous performance in Charms and Transfiguration. This was probably just a ploy to skive off the lesson—and he had no interest in being further humiliated.
So, without pressing the matter, he said, "Oh, well, if the Headmaster's asked for you, of course—you're free to go."
Aris didn't say another word. He slung his bag over his shoulder and strolled out of the classroom, leaving behind a room full of wide-eyed students watching him go—some with awe, some with envy, and a few with a touch of fear.
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Drop power Powerstonessssssssss!
[Note: Read up to Chapter - 104 on P patron at: p-atreon.com/Knockturn_Alley]