Order of the Sphinx... Why should HP get to have all the fun?

Chapter 29: The Prophecy

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Chapter 29: The Prophecy

October finished and November quickly began bringing a horrific cold snap. The bone aching chills returned to Hogwarts and we all bemoaned the brief, albeit appreciated loss of “summer.” Things were better, I suppose you could say; I was coping, hanging on. Though I still felt the same pressure.

Snape had kept his promise, unbelievably enough. When I had come around and went to school the day after I woke, I was introduced into a new regime. My previous hectic schedule had been scrapped. Things had been drastically stretched out. I received very long letters of apology from both Dumbledore and Alexandru, both men apologising for their lack of sympathy and their constant pushing.

I didn’t find out what Snape had actually said to the men, but whatever he had said must have been good. I would have given my left kidney to hear those conversations.

School was pushed forward on my list of priorities, with the arrangement now being that I would focus on school first and foremost and everything else would come secondary; a bitter pill to swallow for Alexandru, but one he did with surprising dignity. Twice a week of an afternoon I would spend in tutoring lessons with Snape. On weekends, the afternoons would be spent with Alexandru, continuing on with my training.

It felt like I could finally breathe.

The sort of twisted freedom I had been given was a blessing, and I made sure to repay Snape in the best way I knew how; I told my friends I owed Snape a massive favour and pleaded with them to keep their heads in and work hard, no mischief. They obliged, seeing that it was important to me. Snape realised quickly what I was doing and the next time he saw me, gave me a nod; the best thank you I would have ever pried from him.

I began to also talk more with Dumbledore. The man had previously left me to my own devices, never having communicated with me in school hours. Now it seemed, he was determined to improve my knowledge on various subjects because he would often call surprise meetings over tea where he would give me several recommended books to look at.

There was no rhyme or reason to the subject pattern and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out what the old man was up to. But I knew for certain something was going on; I could feel it in my bones, and it frustrated me to no end that I couldn’t figure out what it was. I held too much respect for the old man to relent and read his mind, plus I tried to avoid the practice when I could. It felt like an invasion of privacy.