The chatter that filled the Common Room was an unusual occurrence for the Ravenclaw students. Typically, the Common Room was used as a place of study, akin to a library, but on this day, voices echoed off of the sloping tower walls with fervor. Students stood in clusters, gathered around a single object of interest.
Gwen ambled down the stairs of the girls' dormitory and ignored the wary stares she received as she walked across the room. Some students had still not gotten over the rumors about her supposed tie to Dark magic, and many avoided interaction with her at all costs out of fear.
However, she could still count on Simon and Jane to include her in their musings. Even Benedict had eventually come around with convincing from his best mate. Luckily, Simon was an effective communicator.
Gwen made her way over to the small group. They congregated under the large bust of Rowena Ravenclaw, perched precariously on the blue chaise chairs. Benedict held the newspaper, The Daily Prophet, in his hand and his mouth turned out the latest scoop at a mile a minute.
"British Muggles fear espionage by Nazi spies! It says here that "British Muggles worry about enemy agents operating from within the country!" Oh, look here!" He pointed to a smaller column. "'What the Well-Dressed German Wears." Apparently, a Nazi spy can be identified by his shabby, badly worn coat with broken buttons. Who knew!"
Simon shook his russet haired head. "Don't buy into it, mate. They're just trying to sell their propaganda!"
Jane pursed her lips. "But what if there are Nazi spies in the British government? I've heard that some Germans have been deported to Canada or Australia. There must be good reason behind it for the government to do that!"
The muggle-born seemed to be especially worried about the War. After all, her parents had emigrated from Austria several years before she was born. Right now, their home country was overtaken by the Third Reich. And to be associated in anyway with Germany was not a good thing.
Benedict shrugged. "It's not like we'd be able to do anything. Sure, the Minister of Magic is in touch with Winston Churchill, but when it boils down to it, the magical community can't do anything about the War. The more important thing we should be focusing on is the fact that Grindelwald is gaining ground! Look at this!" he exclaimed to the large article that dominated the front page.
"I've heard," sighed Simon, "he's made influence in Denmark. Apparently, he's very close to gathering a full army; the Danish Wizard Resistance isn't too fond of Hitler, so they're looking to Grindelwald to solve their problems."
Gwen stiffened. She had not been in touch with anyone from the Court since she saw Griffith. Her grandfather was gathering bodies, people that supported the cause of the Greater Good. And she stood idly, gossiping about Muggle affairs in the Common Room.
"Like that will end much better," Benedict snorted.
"Perhaps it will," Gwen piped up defensively.
She felt inclined to fend off snide remarks about her family, it was only instinct. Benedict stared blankly at her, not attached to the topic enough to initiate an argument. However, painful silence grew around the group. But as noise continued to build up in the Common Room, it became obvious that the other students were all aware of Grindelwald's movements as well.
"I've heard that Professor Dippet is calling a meeting this morning in the Great Hall," Jane said to clear the tension as she picked at the cushion of the blue chaise chair. "We're supposed to be gathered in the Entrance Hall by eight o'clock."
"The man wants to give Riddle another award, does he?" Simon asked with an unamused scoff. "Brilliant."
Jane shoved him playfully. "Simon," she rebuffed mockingly, "don't be jealous just because you didn't get a Special Services to the School Award." She smirked. "After all, there's always next year!"
Simon glared at the dark haired girl but broke into a smile after several seconds. "Oh, hush up."
"It's almost eight," Benedict announced with a yawn. His freckled face scrunched up as he looked at the glossy face of the clock that hung above the mantle of the fireplace. "We should probably head down."
The rest of the group nodded in agreement and made their way down the Ravenclaw Tower in a slow-moving pack of shuffling footsteps. The younger students, who looked to Gwen and Simon as the role models due to their positions as Prefects, followed the quartet down the stairs and out into the wider corridors.
Eventually, Gwen, Simon, Jane, and Benedict stood in front of the Great Hall. Most students of the other Houses were there. It was a well-known fact that Ravenclaw students typically ran late breakfast; they had a plethora of winding steps to climb down, and then several other staircases. Hufflepuffs were lucky, they were near the ground level and situated right next to the Kitchens.
The Ravenclaws took their seats as the last of the masses filed in. The room still smelled of smoke, but it was much more tolerable since several days had passed since the disaster. Professor Kettleburn was on probation due to his little problem with the Engorgement Charm on the Ashwinder.
Headmaster Dippet already stood at the front of the room, peering into the crowd of students with his beady eyes. Gwen's eyes found Professor Dumbledore, who stood humbly off to the side. He returned her stare with a curious glance.
After all the students had settled down, Dippet addressed the students.
"It has come to my attention that many of you have picked up a Daily Prophet this morning and found some slightly disturbing news. While I do not want to startle any of you," he groaned in his creaky old voice, "I must not lie to you. Grindelwald is in fact across the North Sea, in Denmark, amassing a large amount of followers."
A rush of whispers erupted.
"Now, there is no need to worry," the man urged. "I have spoken to the Ministry, and they have agreed to post some protection at Hogwarts to ease students' minds. Dementors will be permitted to patrol the grounds to ensure the utmost security of the school."
The student body went wild. Gwen quirked a brow in question. Dementors were horribly nasty creatures that sucked all of the happiness out anyone that got too near to them. They liked to infest the darkest, filthiest places and take every happy memory you ever experienced. Surely, allowing them to be on campus with underage wizards wasn't the smartest idea.
"Quiet down!" Dippet squeaked and slowly, the hysteria ceased. "Thank you," he continued sassily, "I expect you all to be on your best behavior. Do not test the Dementors; no pranks, no trying to attract their attention. It will result in nothing good. If I catch wind of any students stepping out of line, they will be punished accordingly." He looked at the crowd with his shrewd eyes, daring anyone to oppose him although he was hardly credibly, the man was weak with age and was practically senile. It was silent in the dining hall.
"You're dismissed," he finally finished with a rattling cough.
The Great Hall filled with talk and food almost immediately at his dismissal. Gwen had absolutely no appetite. She felt sickened as Simon put spoonfuls of avocado on his toast and eagerly chomped down.
Gwen had been anticipating this moment for months, when Grindelwald would finally reach the outskirts of Great Britain, but now that the idea was becoming a reality, she was not sure she was welcoming the change that was sure to come. Change was intimidating, unknown territory. She feared it. Yet, she knew that she had to embrace it. It was the dawn of a new world, a new world where she would be guaranteed a role riddled with power and glory.
These thoughts stayed with her like little pebbles that sneak their way into your trainers and stay there, lodged in the cresses until finally, your shoes break down into nothing more than beat down soles of their former selves. This happened to happen to Gwen during Potions class.
They were brewing the voice altering Volubilis Potion. Tom had already gathered his supplies of Honeywater, mint sprigs, stewed Mandrake, and Syrup of Hellebore from the Potions cupboard. Gwen fetched her cauldron from the cabinet and strode off to get the necessary ingredients.
To brew the potion, one has to heat the initial mix of ingredients until it turns red, then green. Slughorn emphasized that the hue of green that your brew developed was very important and signified how accurate the voice-changing effect was going to be on the consumer.
After Gwen's potion became an ugly lime green, she added the Honeywater until the liquid turned pink. It took several minutes until her brew became a becoming bubble gum pink hue. The brew then had to be heated again until it turned orange, so Gwen increased the intensity of the flame burning underneath her cauldron. And after this, the heat had to be cranked again so that the potion would turn the color of grass again.
As Gwen added the mint sprigs, she noticed Tom smirking at her out of the corner of her eye.
"What is it?" she huffed quietly, careful not to attract the attention of the other students by speaking too loudly.
"Oh, it's just that your potion's turned a rather sightly shade of green," he observed with that irritating arrogance so commonly found in his deep voice. "It seems to be a color your quite fond of huh, Gwen?" A sly smirk overtook his face as heat rushed to Gwen's cheeks at the thought of what he was implying. Brilliant git... He will never let me live it down.
Tom's brow dipped in a sweep of casual cockiness. "My statement still stands—the Sorting Hat should have put you in Slytherin. We are the superior House."
"That's such a Slytherin thing to say," Gwen retorted smartly with a roll of her eyes. She continued to heat her potion until it simmered into a cool blue color. "And that's merely your opinion, Riddle."
"It's the truth," he stated with a smug expression. With that face, Gwen was sure he could convince the entirety of the female student body that Slytherin was indeed the best House, no matter how adamant the Gryffindors were about their House pride. His looks were simply disarming in the most pleasant way imaginable.
"Now, Ravenclaw is a fair House, but I don't see many wizards coming out of there gifted in martial magic. The real power resides with those sorted to stand behind Salazar Slytherin's legacy."
Gwen turned to him with a good grasp of poise and thoughtfulness. "Have you ever wondered why I was a Hat Stall?" she asked as she added more mint sprigs and watched as her brew turned pink again.
Tom added his stewed Mandrake. His potion was now orange. "I've considered it," he mulled over slowly, staring down at his draught. "When I was sorted in first year, the Hat didn't even touch my head. It screamed "Slytherin!" almost before I had the chance to sit down." He grinned mischievously.
"Perhaps it sensed how much of an absolute snake you are," Gwen simpered with a smirk, adding a small amount of Syrup of Hellebore, turning her potion blue.
"You're hilarious, Gawmdrey," Tom deadpanned, not amused in the slightest by her comment. "You act as if you're a pearl."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she guffawed.
Tom narrowed his dark eyes, suddenly losing all light-heartedness. "You lurk around in the Dark Forest during a New Moon, speaking to a stranger. That's hardly what I would call typical behavior for someone that tries to present themselves as a model student. You may have the grades and intelligence, but I don't quite think the student body would accept you as Head Girl next year."
"And you expect that you have the title of Head Boy in the bag?" she snapped back unabashedly. "If the student body knew that you're a Parselmouth as well, you'd be ruined."
"Perhaps," he mused nonchalantly, "but I have my faith in my ability to be persuasive."
"Persuasive," Gwen scoffed. "Sure. You think that you're talent with Legilimency can be classified as charm? You peer into other people's minds, that's hardly deemed an admirable trait."
"I don't aim to be admirable, I aim to be powerful," Tom countered lowly. The ambition in his voice was clearly evident.
"Like Grindelwald?" Gwen questioned tentatively. Several seconds of pause where she rolled the words around on her tongue with uncertainty finally spurred her question. As incredulously as possible she asked, "What do think of him?"
"He'll either make or break his cause in Great Britain," Tom stated matter-of-factly, like it was nothing more than a statistic to be measured as he heated his potion; it was now yellow. "The Ministry will try to subdue his presence as much as possible, but I don't believe they've ever dealt with a Dark wizard of his standing. He won't be taken down by some little task force from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
His dark eyes became calculating slits at he stared at Gwen. "Why do you ask?"
I have my reasons... Gwen thought.
"Merely curious," she responded flippantly. She tightened her jaw as a thought became all consuming in her mind. "And how, exactly, do you think Grindelwald will be defeated?" Her words came out a jumble of rush syllables, but she was thankful Tom understood her.
"A duel," Tom said in a voice that indicated he thought the answer was obvious. His potion released a shower of sparks. Gwen pulled the sleeve of her robe out of harm's way and took a step back, nearly tripping over Tom's foot. He placed a hand on her elbow to steady her.
Just then, Slughorn waddled his way over to them. The class was roaring with conversations. The classrrom was so loud that no one had heard the pair's conversation. Except, now the Potions Master was very excited to speak with them.
"Ah! Mister Riddle, Miss Gawmdrey! You're done with your potions I see!" he smiled. He peered over to look inside of their cauldrons and nodded with enthusiasm. "They look splendid! Miss Gawmdrey, would you care to demonstrate the effect of Volubilis for the class?"
It was not a suggestion. Gwen down looked down at her sunshiney yellow potion and prepared herself. Her gaze flitted to Tom and he urged her with his eyes to get on with it. Slowly, she picked up her ladle. Slughorn handed her a small flask to pour the liquid into.
By now, the entire class was focused solely on her. Gwen raised the ladle of liquid to her lips and inhaled. The potion possessed a refreshing, gingery smell to it. She slowly allowed the potion to pass her lips and swallowed. It was slightly sweet, most like due to the Honeywater, but had several spicy ginger notes from the stewed Mandrake.
"Say something," Slughorn prodded with a smile.
"Something," Gwen mimicked, not knowing what else to say.
A deep, distinct voice that did not belong to Gwen spoke for her, making her eyes go wide with fright as she realized who it belonged to.
The rest of the class erupted in laughter, all except for Tom, who studied Gwen's perturbed expression with interest.
Gwen's last thought as she left the Potions classroom was that if her peers knew who that voice belonged to, they surely wouldn't be laughing. After all, they had been fearful of the very mention of his name earlier that morning.
That night, a soft tapping on her window resulted in Gwen receiving a letter from a dusty brown Barn Owl. As she unfolded the piece of stiff parchment, her eyes fell on the familiar script.
And she read the scrawl in the same voice that possessed her earlier that day.
We're nearing. Get ready.
This is very much a little bit of a filler chapter! But I ensure that things pick up after this chapter! It will get crazy! (:
-Candid