Dark Wizard Collector: A Hogwarts Fanfiction

Chapter 7

The bell rang and I set to my duties of tidying the Potions classroom. "I say, Miss Zeria, there are two hours to dismissal and I am finished teaching for the day. Would you like to fetch some more herbs with me? I'd love to hear about your studies." said Professor Slughorn as he gathered a leather bag and a few phials. Having something already planned to do, I inwardly refused the wizard, but duty forced me to outwardly accept the invitation with a weak smile.

"Would you mind if I changed out of these shoes?" I queried with a twist of my ankle showing that heels would not suffice in the wilderness.

"Why, not at all. Shall I meet you at the Stone Circle?" Slughorn asked and I nodded opening the classroom door and turning to the staircase in the dungeon corridor.

All the way up the stairs I ran with the utmost sense of purpose, yet upon reaching the sixth floor I was completely out of breath and energy. Beads of sweat appeared across the top of my forehead and I coughed attempting to recover my breath. Luckily, my office was very near to the staircase. Changing into my worn, leather boots—that had no heel mind you—I briskly walked through the castle across the wooden bridge and arrived at the Stone Circle.

The soft dirt bounced a bit as we walked toward the Dark Forest chit chatting about the uses of different ingredients. Around me, a cool breeze blew lifting the smell of the earth up into the heavens. I sighed with thankfulness that I was able to feel the life sustaining dirt beneath my feet and the sun's rays upon my face. "So what do you use dragon heartstrings for?" The old man's question caused me to purse my lips in irritation. He noticed my reaction and corrected his quarry. "I mean of course once a dragon dies, how do you suggest using the rare items one can collect from them?"

I forced a smile, "Well, when a dragon does die naturally and is not killed for harvesting, their heartstrings, scales, bones, blood, everything is much more powerful. Especially if the dragon dies giving its life for another creature. That is very rare. I personally strive to not use anything from dragons if I can help it. A certain fondness for dragons has grown in me because of the long hours I spent studying their natures." As I spoke, I scoured the ground for peppermint.

The brown and grey haired head nodded and continued blabbering about the uses of plants he noticed. "I say, Professor Sprout uses quite a lot of equipment crafted from dragons." Luckily, my sneering face was hidden under a wall of my black hair as I picked sprigs of peppermint. Pomona, that little first year bitch, I cursed remembering the squat Hufflepuff from my last year at Hogwarts. "Is that peppermint?" asked Slughorn as I pinched a few leaves and rubbed the green veins with my fingertips. The sweet but sharp smell corroborated his inquiry and I tied the stems together in a bundle with a piece of twine.

"What were you looking for again?" I asked noticing that the absent minded professor's bag was empty. Like a startled deer, he lifted his head, paused a moment and began rattling off about asphodel, wormwood, and aconite.

An hour later, we came across a patch of small white flowers with six petals, asphodel. "Are you teaching the sixth years how to make Draught of Living Death?" My question was genuine as I uprooted a plant with budding flowers.

"Why yes." Was all I heard of his reply before losing myself in thought again. The soft white of the tiny flowers would be a perfect decoration to have in my chamber. What better décor than the flora of Elysium? The delicate flowers were a subtle reminder to me of the afterlife, which I would one day face. A mournful sigh caught in my throat like a repulsive mouthful of grubs, because I knew one day death would take me. My teeth set and ground across each other in distaste. Again, I ignored the jabbering wizard and took out my pocket watch.

"Sorry, I have to return to my office." I said and the dismissal bell tolled from the clock tower.

Briskly, I walked to a rather shabby hut with a small stone wall and a decrepit scare crow. The wooden stairs creaked as I climbed the few up to the large oak door and rapped my knuckles beckoning the owner to open. Hagrid's kind but wild haired face appeared and grinned. "Good day to yeh Miss Zeria. Can I 'elp yeh with anything?" The heavy accented voice cheered opening the door wider invitingly. Inside, I saw a collection of dirty pots, woven baskets and a large black dog drooling on the torn carpet near the hearth.

"Thank you Hagrid, but I came to ask if you had time to proctor a detention."

"Aye, that I do; the stables are mighty filthy."

"Excellent." I smiled and bade the giant good day.