Things were going well for Blake - well, as well as they could be going. Of course, there was still the issue of Malfoy and his cronies, who seemed to enjoy talking about him from afar but never to his face. Then there was Quirrell, who still avoided Blake at all costs, even going so far as to move him to the furthest seat from the desk and avoid asking him any questions entirely. And finally, there was Snape. The man's hatred towards Gryffindors, and Harry Potter in particular, had the potential to ruin his business with the Gryffindors.
Snape outright refused to grade Gryffindors fairly, and this meant absolutely no Outstandings. They were all capped at Exceeding Expectations at best, despite Blake himself writing in a very similar tone and achieving an Outstanding. Luckily, the Gryffindors were very grateful for the grade nonetheless and they didn't complain - especially Neville Longbottom, who tried to pay him extra and insisted that Blake called him by his first name. Snape picked on Neville as much as - if not more - than Harry. Blake liked Neville. He wasn't anything Slytherin, and to be honest, he didn't really have any traits that Blake found particularly endearing or could use, bar perhaps an unusual aptitude for Herbology that even had Greengrass confused.
But he's just a nice guy.
Regardless, as long as Snape kept giving Exceeding Expectations, Blake reckoned he was in the clear. All other subjects were doing well, after all, and Blake's client list had grown to 15 people by Halloween - many of which had asked for multiple essays.
Unfortunately, Blake still hadn't managed to make his essays sufficiently different immediately, so a lot of his time was spent in the Forbidden Forest making different iterations of the same essays to ensure that no teachers realised what was going on. He had to sacrifice a lot of leisure time with the rest of his group - but it was that 'sacrifice' that made him realise that he actually enjoyed spending time with them. Friends, huh?
Another reason for limited time was the lessons with McGonagall. Blake still wasn't happy with his progress, even though McGonagall seemed to think he was excelling. As of right now, he'd mastered all the second year content, and even touched on some of the third year content - but apparently, his magical ability wasn't good enough for most of it. Because of that, he was stuck learning theory instead - it was interesting and useful, yes, but also disappointing.
"Oi, Blake!"
"Huh? Oh, sorry, Tracey," Blake apologised. Tracey had been saying something about the Patil twins when Blake zoned out to ruminate about the past two months, and she had apparently clocked on.
"So you weren't listening!"
"I don't blame him," Zabini muttered.
"What'd you say? Say that again!" Tracey demanded, whirling on him.
Some people never change, Blake thought with a small smile, as Charlotte laughed quietly, while Greengrass looked on indifferently. You're not special.
Greengrass's performance in Charms was another reason for Blake to be annoyed. The witch (Blake meant this in both ways) still managed to outperform him, much to his ire, and he couldn't figure out why at all.
"I said, I-"
"TROLL IN THE CASTLE! TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS!"
The entire Great Hall went silent at Professor Quirrell's words, just as the man fainted in the middle of the Great Hall - however, Dumbledore and McGonagall were quick to act.
"Prefects, escort all the students to their dormitories now!"
What? The Slytherin dorms are in the dungeons! How the hell do they want us to go into the place with that monster!?
As they were all ushered by Prefects towards the dungeons, Blake looked back at the teacher's table, hoping desperately to catch a teacher's attention to tell them not to escort them to the dungeons.
But suddenly, something caught his eye. Snape was staring at Dumbledore, and Dumbledore at Snape, as if in silent communication. Snape turned to look at something, and then back to Dumbledore, who nodded, and with that, Snape took off, out of the Great Hall.
Wait a second - he's not going towards the dungeons!
Blake looked around again - but this time, he was trying to see what Snape had been looking at.
Looks like he's just stared at the floor - wait. Blake's blood ran cold. Quirrell was gone.
Snape's gone after Quirrell? But why? And Dumbledore knows about it?
Blake's mind raced. Quirrell, who had been behaving weirdly ever since school started, had woken up and moved out of the Great Hall in under a minute. Also, Snape had immediately picked up on it, seemingly doing something with Dumbledore.
I shouldn't get involved. I'm only a first year, I shouldn't get mixed up in school politics and trolls.
But as Blake tried his best to focus on just going down to the dungeons like he was instructed, the image of Quirrell's face when he saw Blake for the first time kept invading his mind, and curiosity got the better of him.
Y'know what? Screw it.
Just as he exited the Great Hall, Blake tried to cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself - to be honest, it was certainly far from perfect. He'd only read about it in books because he'd thought it would be useful, but whenever he had tried it, it, at best, resulted in only partial invisibility - his outline was still visible, like a shimmering trace of his figure. Nonetheless, it still worked.
Blake quietly slipped away from the rest of Slytherin after casting a Muffliato, and bolted down the opposite corridor, trying to follow Snape, believing that no one had seen him.
He didn't notice a girl with icy blue eyes and bright blonde hair staring straight at his retreating figure.
The girl cast a Disillusionment Charm herself - this charm was far better than the one Blake had managed to do - and after also casting a Muffliato, she took after him, sprinting.
I thought it was in the Forbidden Forest after seeing that figure, but apparently not. It's got to be in the castle.
His Disillusionment Charm is far from perfect - Snape will definitely see through it and focus on him - he won't notice me, he'll be too distracted, and thanks to him, I can finally see where it's hidden.
Daphne Greengrass allowed herself a rare smirk as she ran.
I was right. Blake Renshaw, you'll do just fine.
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