Three days had gone by in the blink of an eye, our lessons filled with small clues to ensure our interest in the topics continue well into our later years at the school. Charms and Transfiguration were constants within our schedules. The only break from them were Magical History, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Herbology classes spread throughout the week and Potions that consumed the entirety of the school schedule on a Friday. Supposedly it was an introductory schedule for first years; firsties, to let us get used to the classes.
Lunaris had been salivating all week as we visited the library with Hermione, the bushy haired bookworm always brightly smiling as she held the ancient tomes. We had already read through three tomes on basic cleaning charms and livelihood charms in the first hours of study. It was actually very intriguing reading since many of the charms could be repurposed into Jinxes and Hexes. DADA; Defence Against the Dark Arts, was supposed to teach you counter curses and counter charms for the basic jinxes and hexes and yet the teacher was Quirrell, a useless prattling moron. I hated him.
I Digress... We had just finished breakfast in the great hall once again, Dumbledore speaking upon the dangers of traversing the 3rd floor of the castle and that we could die. The man was as daft as Quirrell and managed to show his early onset dementia with every stupid phrase he spoke. I mean, really? 'Nitwick, Blubberment and Tweak'? What the actual... what the hell are those words even supposed to mean!? Lunaris cackled after the old fool finished his insane spiel, because of course he did.
Fortunately we were finished listening to the old man and could leave for potions. The potions classroom was in the dungeons, close to the Slytherin dorms. It took a good ten to twenty minutes for us to walk down to Snape's classroom but eventually we got there, the bloody baron; one of the school's spectres, aiding us along the way. Most of our Slytherin companions walked behind us four, Harry walking alongside me on the right, Dracoria on the left and Hermione just behind us, her head in her book. She refused to stop reading.
The classroom itself, as we came to a halt outside it, looked damp and dark. Cobwebs coiled in the corners of the ceiling and, in some cases, along the benches themselves. Yet contrary to the webs, there wasn't a speck of dust. Every surface gleamed with a meticulous cleanliness, almost as though the room had been newly manufactured. To further the contrast, cauldrons in various states of disrepair lined the walls, with stirrers and large washcloths resting along their lips.
We were jolted from our observations by the sharp clack of dress shoes stopping in front of us.
"Enough of your foolish dalliances. Get into the classroom and take out your texts"Snape hissed, voice low and venomous, before turning in place like a marionette pulled by unseen strings. He strode toward the teacher's desk, robes whispering behind him.
None of the Slytherins needed another word. Hermione, Harry, and Dracoria reached their workstations immediately, Harry and Hermione pairing off, while Dracoria and I took the table beside them. The problem arose when the Gryffindors, specifically Ronald Weasley ,began complaining rather loudly about greasy bats.
~He's an utter baboon, intellect-wise, isn't he?~
At my brother's words, I barely swallowed back a chuckle as the red-haired Weasley dug himself deeper.
"My brothers told me about Snape, you know? They said he was a greasy git and that he'd always take points from every house that wasn't Slytherin," he snarked, while his 'friends' inched away from him, each noticing the menacing glare of the Potions Master.
The buffoon continued for a moment before he finally noticed the silence that now blanketed the room. He looked around, confused, as Snape slowly rose from behind his desk. Ronald paled, backing away two steps as the teacher began his approach. The air thickened, not just with magic, but with frost and dread.
Snape's boots echoed off the flagstones, each step deliberate.
"How… fascinating," he murmured, voice curling like smoke through the silence."That your brothers, who barely managed to scrape acceptable marks in my class, have the audacity to instruct you in manners."
A flicker of horror crossed Weasley's features. The boy was clearly suffering the aftereffects of all the times he'd been dropped on his head as a child. Hermione bit her bottom lip, her sense of humour battling the oppressive tension.
A sneer twisted across Snape's face, sharp and disdainful.
"Tell me, Weasley, did they also teach you to insult your professors during class?"
Ron's mouth worked silently in search of a retort, his face flushing crimson.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor… for sheer idiocy," Snape snapped, his tone rich with satisfaction. "And another ten… for breathing so loudly it offends my ears." With a final curl of his lip, he turned and swept back to the front of the room, his cloak flaring behind him like a bat's wing.
Slytherin softly began whispering to one another, their tone subdued and secretive whilst the Gryffindors metaphorically licked their wounds by spitefully staring the red-headed boy down. The chatter soon swelled before a sharp crack of books striking wood ebbed the growing cacophony of whispers.
"I have little patience for layabouts and dunderheads within this class," He looked directly at Ronald before regarding the remainder of the class, "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic..." His voice drawled as he inspected each student in the class. "I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…" He wistfully breathed in before glowering once more as the reality of having to teach children seeped into his mind once more.
"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death. If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." He sharply whipped his wand to the side and pointed at the chalk-board.
"Page 13, get to it now. We will start with a basic burning-balm." He received blinking stares from the majority of the class whilst we; Hermione, Harry, Dracoria, Lunaris and I, quickly set about flipping to that page in our potions textbook.
...
Stonehenge, Britain, 1990, 6th of September 12PM
Hundreds of tourists wandered around amidst large stones that had been shifted thousands of years ago. Tour guides attempted to give the history of the archaeological site but struggled amidst the constant blithering of the masses.
Grassy plains swayed back and forth in the background, peacefully. Distant trees shifted in the wind as fog sprinkled the distant sky in a haze of smoky white. A drizzle of rain misted through the sky above whilst the grey clouds stormed up above. In other words, it was a lovely British day.
What the tourists of this location didn't know of was the existence of magic. Stonehenge was created in the time of Morgan LeFay for the purposes of advanced rituals and astronomical power absorption. Runes, hidden from the muggle eye, wrapped around each sandstone obelisk. Elder Futhark runes amalgamated with ancient Celtic knots whilst Latin phrases sprinkled the tops and bottoms of these 'stones'. A mild notice-me-not field wrapped the entire wonder ensuring that no muggles could discover the secrets of the magical community. It was the only aspect of magic that had thrummed here for centuries. The runes were perfectly intact and controlled but lacked the magical glow that one would often notice inside runic arrays.
All of that was true... Until four days ago. Early in the morning of Monday the entire structure quaked and shifted for an infinitesimal moment. Every single rune, of Norse origin, Roman origin and Celtic origin, sparked to life and maintained their glow. An hour after this activation the field that had maintained the magics of Stonehenge expanded and strengthened to an all-time high. The Muggles quickly shut down the site on the grounds that it needed to be repaired or protected from vandalism. None of them knew that the magic had awoken, but that was by design.
Every day, in the mornings, the Stonehenge pulsed in cerulean light. Each pulse manifested in a conical funnel that stretched into the sky. The winds billowed and howled each time the pulse was accomplished whilst the vibrations of magic expanded in scope. Alchemists, Illusionists, Battle-Mages, Demonologists, Ritual Masters and numerous other magical professions felt the change in their magics as the vibrations of Stonehenge caused previously stable magics to enhance in power. Chaos slowly started spreading within the quiet circles and organisations of the Magical World. With the pulses came increased potency and instabilities, a phenomena that magical governments across the world wished to locate the beachhead of.
Thursday morning, as Solaris shivered and stumbled for another morning straight, Stonehenge began humming. Cerulean light morphed into an indigo aura that lathered itself around the ground. Tendrils, from the lathered magic, pierced into the damp earth below the world wonder. Something was coming and the world didn't know what it could be...
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