Intertwined → Tom Riddle

CHAPTER EIGHT

Later that night, Amara found herself standing outside Professor Slughorn's office, her heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and nerves. The quiet of the corridor seemed to amplify her feelings, but for once, she wasn't plagued by doubts. Tonight felt different. There was a sense of certainty that things were falling into place. She straightened her robes, smoothed her hair, and knocked lightly on the door, her knuckles making a soft, rhythmic sound against the wood. As she stepped inside, she released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"Professor?" she called softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Professor, are you in?"

From behind a curtain came a loud clanging noise, followed by the unmistakable voice of Professor Slughorn, groggy and disoriented. "Yes, yes, I'm awake, Armando!" he bellowed, fumbling with the curtain that concealed him from view.

"Professor, are you alright?" Amara stepped cautiously toward the noise, her brow furrowed in concern. "Do you need help?"

"No, no! Just give me a second," he replied hastily, the sounds of clutter being shoved aside echoing in the room.

The professor's office was a treasure trove of magical artifacts and dusty tomes. Shelves upon shelves were crammed with books, many of them ancient and bound in cracked leather. There were cauldrons of varying sizes scattered around, some filled with strange, bubbling substances. A thick layer of dust covered the surfaces, adding a layer of age to the otherwise cozy room.

Amara paced back and forth, her mind racing with the importance of the conversation she was about to have. Normally, disturbing a professor at this hour would fill her with dread, but tonight was different. She had a plan, and nothing was going to derail her. When Slughorn finally emerged from behind the curtain, still adjusting his rumpled robes and brushing off stray bits of confetti from his garments, he looked at her with mild curiosity.

"Miss Rosier..." Slughorn regarded her, his eyes blinking sleepily. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this late-night visit?"

"Well, Professor," Amara began, her voice laced with the careful enthusiasm she and Juliet had practiced earlier. "I was hoping you'd allow me the great honor of picking your brain about something." She stopped pacing and locked eyes with him, hoping to appear genuinely intrigued. "You see, Professor Blackburn has us researching Disillusionment Charms for our OWL coursework—"

"Disillusionment Charms?" Slughorn interrupted, his hand stroking his chin thoughtfully. "For OWLs? What a peculiar thing to be studying at such a young age! Very unlike Blackburn. He should be focusing on your exams, not challenging you beyond your years. I must have a word with him!" He rambled on, clearly flustered, before catching himself. "My apologies. Continue, my dear."

"Oh no, Professor, no need," Amara smiled, pressing forward. "It's been a wonderful academic experience. In fact, everyone is enjoying the project. It's definitely my second favorite subject..." She let her voice trail off just enough to let Slughorn catch the hint.

"Right after Potions, of course," Slughorn finished for her, nodding with approval. "Of course."

"And I thought," Amara continued, her excitement building, "why not combine my two greatest interests?" She laced her words with just enough excitement to make it sound natural, despite having rehearsed this conversation countless times. "I was hoping you might be able to tell me if there are any Potions with a similar effect."

"A Potion?" Slughorn raised his eyebrows, clearly intrigued. "A fascinating notion. You've piqued my interest, Miss Rosier."

"Yes, Professor," she nodded earnestly. "The ideal Potion would, of course, turn the user completely invisible. I think that would be the most interesting comparison to the charm in my coursework."

Slughorn tapped his foot on the floor, deep in thought. "Merlin's beard, you've got me scratching my head!" He chuckled, glancing at her. "This is quite the challenge. I do love a challenge, though." With that, he motioned for her to follow him. "Come along, my dear, let's see what we can find."

Amara followed as Slughorn led her to a towering bookcase, its shelves crammed with dusty, ancient tomes. "Hold these for a moment," he muttered, passing her a stack of heavy books. They were old, their bindings cracked and pages yellowed. "Now, I'm sure it's in here somewhere..."

As he muttered to himself, recalling vague memories of obscure potions, Amara did her best to maintain her polite interest. Her arms were starting to ache from the weight of the books, but she tried not to show her discomfort. Slughorn rambled on, mentioning a former student who used a similar potion to acquire rare ingredients, but none of it seemed immediately helpful.

The minutes ticked by, and Amara's patience began to wear thin. The plan, which had seemed so flawless just hours before, was starting to unravel. She glanced at the wall clock, noticing the hands creeping towards midnight.

"You know," Slughorn continued as he grabbed yet another book from the shelf, "it wasn't so long ago that I, too, was a student like yourself. Potions have always been my passion, and I can't tell you how much it's helped me in life. High-powered jobs, work with the Ministry—"

Amara, her patience wearing thin, cut him off. "And yet, you chose teaching?"

Slughorn paused, clearly taken aback. "Well, yes," he stammered, clearly unprepared for the question. "You see, knowledge is the greatest power of all. Some might say otherwise, but they'd be wrong. Knowledge can create and destroy, save lives or end them. It's my duty to pass on what I know. The minds I help shape will change the world, Miss Rosier. That's the power I wield."

Amara rolled her eyes slightly, though she kept her expression neutral. Slughorn's speeches were always a bit too self-important for her taste. She had always admired his knowledge, but his grandiloquent speeches often tested her patience.

Finally, Slughorn pulled a particularly worn book from the shelf. "Ah! Here it is," he said with a triumphant grin. "I knew it was in here somewhere. It's a bit old, but no matter—you don't need the full recipe."

Amara gulped as Slughorn's voice trailed off. She sighed inwardly, realizing this was as good as it was going to get. "Thank you, Professor," she said quickly, snatching the book from his hands before he could say another word.

"Well, yes, of course..." Slughorn replied, somewhat startled by her sudden urgency, but by the time he finished his sentence, Amara was already halfway down the corridor.

The corridors of Hogwarts were dimly lit, and the cold, stone walls seemed to echo her hurried footsteps as she raced back to the Common Room. The castle was eerily quiet at this hour, the usual bustling noise of students replaced by an almost oppressive silence.

She burst into the Common Room, where Juliet was waiting, curled up in front of the fire, her eyes drooping with exhaustion. The flickering flames cast a warm glow on Juliet's face, but the sleepiness in her eyes was evident.

"Here," Amara said breathlessly, pushing the book into Juliet's lap and flipping it open to the correct page. "He said it was this."

Juliet perked up, blinking away the sleep as she scanned the page. Her fingers traced the faded words, mumbling as she read. "Cherries... spiders... a leaping toadstool cap..." She squinted, leaning in closer. "Wait, what does that one say? Is it knotgrass... or snotgrass?"

"Snotgrass? Is that even a thing?" Amara asked incredulously.

Juliet nodded seriously. "It is."

Shaking her head, Amara cursed under her breath. "I think it says knotgrass."

Juliet grinned, jotting down her notes. "Alright, looks like we're onto phase two."