The next morning dawned shrouded in a soft mist that descended from the woods and seeped through the castle windows. Hogwarts remained silent, like a giant just beginning to stretch.
Aurelian dressed calmly. His robe was immaculate, but his hair was slightly disheveled. He had slept little, but enough to restore his body and mind, which had not been silenced even by the silence of the night.
The first murmurs of the castle began to echo through the corridors as he descended the stairs to the Great Hall. Some students yawned, others argued about the class schedules they had been given the night before. Aurelian walked among them as if moving on another plane, always serene, aloof, but fully aware of every face and every glance.
Upon entering the Great Hall, the air was filled with the aroma of warm bread, tea, eggs, and bacon. The house tables were already beginning to fill up, although there were still many empty spaces. The enchanted sky above their heads was a pearly gray, a prelude to a damp morning.
He sat in his usual place at the Slytherin table, from which he could see the entrance, the teachers, and most of the tables without being easily seen.
Hestia and Flora arrived shortly after, without even greeting their other classmates. They settled down beside him as usual. Hestia poured him a cup of dark tea without asking, and Flora handed him a piece of bread with blackberry jam.
"Did you sleep well?" Flora asked softly.
"Just enough," Aurelian replied, looking at his class schedule.
"Herbology first, right?" Hestia said with a slight frown.
"Yes. In greenhouse four," he confirmed. "With Professor Sprout. Maybe she'll teach us something more advanced this year."
The twins sighed in unison. They didn't like getting their hands dirty, or the magical plants that screamed, let alone some that tried to bite them.
"At least I can burn something if it gets out of control," Hestia muttered, sharpening her voice subtly.
Aurelian shook his head and gave a brief smile.
"Just don't burn our classmates, please."
A small snort was the only response he got.
Cedric walked past the table, already dressed in his Hufflepuff robe and carrying a couple of scrolls under his arm. He gave them a slight nod, which Arelian returned.
"See you in the greenhouse," said the boy, before continuing on his way.
A few rows away, Fred and George were arguing with each other as one accidentally (or not) added pepper to the other's butter. The normality of everyday chaos. Aurelian took a bite of bread as he reread the section of a book where he had noted the effects of some rare magical plants, especially those with poisonous properties or related to potions.
He finished his tea and stood up.
"Time to go," he said without raising his voice.
The twins were already following him before he had even finished the sentence.
They walked through the corridors leading to the outer gardens, breathing in the fresh air that heralded a possible drizzle. The ground was damp but not soaked, and the smell of wet earth filled their lungs like a harbinger of things to come.
The greenhouses awaited them in the distance, green and shiny, covered in fogged glass and vibrating with barely contained energy.
Herbology class was about to begin.
In greenhouse number four, you could breathe in the magic. Morning dew clung to the glass, forming translucent streaks that tinged the light with greenish hues. Inside, the air was warm, humid, somewhat thick, as if it had come straight from an enchanted jungle.
Professor Pomona Sprout waited by a work table covered with twisted roots and steaming pots. She looked the same as Aurelian remembered from the previous year: short, sturdy, with hands weathered from years of working with enchanted soil and a kind expression that never stopped watching.
She wore a brown work robe and a wide-brimmed hat stained by time and magical plant sap. At her side, several labels floated above the pots, fluttering as she finished labeling them all.
"Good morning!" she said in a strong, though slightly hoarse voice. "Welcome to the second year of Herbology. Today we will be working with a plant that may seem docile, but has given more than one careless wizard a scare."
Cedric exchanged a glance with Aurelian and smiled. The Slytherin boy responded with a barely perceptible gesture before looking intently at the teacher. Next to him, Hestia had already put on her protective gloves. Flora was gathering her hair with a black clip.
"As you know," Sprout continued, holding up a root as thick as a child's arm, "Dictamus Arnodis is a magical sub-variety of common dictamus. This plant, in addition to its healing properties, is capable of defending itself through magical impulses if it detects that the wizard handling it has aggressive intentions.
A hand went up from the Hufflepuff side.
"And how does the plant determine if the wizard is aggressive?"
"Good question, Mr. Diggory," Sprout nodded. "Dictamus Arnodis are sensitive to magical intent, not emotion. If you approach them with a desire to control them rather than understand them, they will react. It won't seriously harm you... if you wear gloves, of course."
The professor approached the first table.
"Slytherin and Hufflepuff, you will work in cross pairs today. I don't want rivalries, I want results, and anyone who damages a plant today... will accompany me to greenhouse seven. That's where I keep the poisonous ones. Understood?"
A murmur of acceptance spread through the class. Sprout began handing out the roots to each pair, along with gloves, tweezers, and a small bottle of moonmoss essence.
"Diggory and Gaunt," he ordered without looking up, handing them a plant that was gently twisting inside its pot.
Cedric walked toward Aurelian with a sincere smile.
"Together again. I guess that's a good sign," he said as he put on his gloves.
"Sure... Sure," Aurelian replied in a low voice, still staring at the plant in front of them.
Cedric laughed, but his gaze grew more serious when he saw the root turn slightly toward Aurelian.
"Did you notice?" Cedric murmured. "It's moving more with you than with me."
Aurelian raised an eyebrow. He reached out and brought his fingers close to the edge of the stem. A faint reddish glow lit up at the tip of the root.
"They react to the magical core," he whispered. "Not just to intention. They can sense high levels of magic."
Cedric frowned in disbelief. Most students were simply trying not to get dirty. But Aurelian was already classifying the plant's magical sensitivity with the calmness of a researcher.
"Use the tweezers and carefully remove the top layer of bark," said Sprout, walking past them. "Don't go for the deeper layers yet, Mr. Gaunt. The plant needs to trust you before it opens up completely."
Hestia, in the background, watched motionless as her Hufflepuff classmate tried to apply the technique. Flora looked directly at Aurelian, more interested in what he was doing than in her own plant.
The minutes passed amid cuts, vapors, and a few small explosions of harmless spores. Sprout corrected firmly but not harshly. She was a patient teacher, but also one with a good memory: those who made mistakes out of laziness would not forget the consequences.
"Very good," she finally announced. "Those who have collected at least two jars of essence without damaging the root can clean their station and make a note in their notebook about the magical behavior of the plant. A personal reflection, don't copy your partner's."
Cedric began writing immediately.
Aurelian observed the stem, which still had a slight reddish glow despite the cut; it had not tried to defend itself.
"It senses power, but does not threaten. Interesting. Some magical creatures behave the same way. They instinctively recognize the hierarchy of power."
He made a mental note and then quickly wrote it down in his notebook.
Lunch arrived with the sky covered by clouds that seemed to have lingered to gaze at the castle. The Great Hall, in contrast, was overflowing with light and intense aromas. Steaming broths, stews, and a large tray of meat pies sat atop the tables, serving themselves when someone extended their plate with sufficient intent.
Aurelian entered alongside Hestia and Flora. Hestia still had traces of dirt under her fingernails, and Flora was slowly drying a tiny stain of dictamnus juice on her sleeve.
The Slytherin table was lively. Students were discussing the new subjects, some complaining about the assignments given that morning, others speculating about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
Aurelian settled into his usual seat, but before he could even serve himself some stew, he heard a soft, precise voice from his left.
"Gaunt."
He looked up.
There was Thalia Burke.
Sitting a few seats away, her bearing was as impeccable as her uniform. Her curly hair was tied back with a ribbon, her black eyes didn't blink more than necessary, and her expression was serene but sharp as the blade of an enchanted dagger. In her hands she held a crystal glass of pumpkin juice, which she swirled gently between her fingers.
"Burke," he replied with a slight nod.
Thalia looked at him carefully before continuing.
"I saw you working with Dictamus Arcana. Did you know that some versions of that plant are sensitive to magical lineage, as well as intention?"
Flora stopped cutting her slice of meat pie. Hestia looked up.
"Yes," Aurelian replied. "Although it's not officially documented, several species of magical plants have unexplained reactions to descendants of ancient bloodlines."
Thalia nodded.
"And you are... from a very ancient bloodline."
It wasn't a question.
"That's what the records say," Aurelian said, showing no interest in correcting her.
Thalia took a sip from her glass and set it down on the table with a soft click.
"You don't get very close to the people in our house. Beyond... them," she added, glancing briefly at the Carrows.
Hestia frowned. Flora narrowed her eyes. Aurelian, on the other hand, smiled with a hint of irony.
"Slytherin isn't exactly a place you can trust."
"But it's a gold mine of information," Thalia replied without hesitation.
A moment of silence hung between them, like a violin string tuned to the extreme.
"And what are you, Burke?" Aurelian asked calmly. "Part of the mine... or someone who digs in secret?"
Thalia looked at him more intently, her expression showing something that was neither mockery nor defiance.
"I'm someone who knows when to speak."
Aurelian nodded slowly, as if that answer had been the right one.
"Then let's watch," he said.
Thalia slid her plate closer, but said nothing more. She didn't need to. In Slytherin, sometimes silence spoke louder than a thousand feigned alliances.
The twins didn't intervene, but their eyes never left Thalia. They watched her with hostility.
Lunch continued amid murmurs, cutlery, and unspoken alliances.
Aurelian, without stopping eating, made a mental note: Thalia Burke. Intelligent. Somewhat curious... she might be useful to me.