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Who: Gabe and William
When: Late night, December 29th
Where: Primarily Gabe's rooms
What: Returning a lost belonging
William was re-shelving his last stack of books for the night when a flicker of motion caught the corner of his eye. There was nothing there when he turned, which led him to suspect it was one of the older students sneaking around trying to gain access to the Restricted Section. He frowned, waiting a moment longer, and then reached up to slide the final book onto the shelf and saw the flicker again. Much closer this time. A few inches from his fingers, in fact.
The mysterious intruder wasn’t a student, it was a snake. A hooded cobra, specifically. And one that was either Disillusioned or Chameleon Cloaked, judging by the way it faded in and out of sight. “Hello,” he said cautiously, voice low. He wished he could speak Parseltongue, but tone of voice was the best he could do. Back in second-year, he and Andrew had spent several weeks attempting to learn the basics from a recorded spoken-words book, but that had been long ago and they’d never really mastered the art. It was a difficult language to get the hang of, when everything on the recording sounded almost exactly the same to their ears.
The snake either couldn’t read his tone or didn’t care, because she coiled warningly, head rearing back. William froze, keeping very still as he watched it for signs of aggression. He would be able to get to Bob in time if it were merely a case of snakebite venom, of course, but this was no ordinary snake. William could feel the tingle of magic flickering dangerously along with its forked tongue.
“Right,” he said slowly. “Just let me…”
A conjured mouse was probably less satisfying to a cobra than a real one, but debatably more ethical to produce, and certainly quicker in a pinch. The snake made reasonably fast work of it regardless, while William stood at a careful distance and watched, his wand moving in deliberate, measured circles. The snake moved more slowly as the temperature dropped, relaxing into well-fed torpidity. It didn’t react with alarm when William edged forward, so he hooked it gently with his wand and let it curl sleepily around his arm.
“No biting,” he told it. He couldn’t remember the name that had been on the notice, but he had no doubt where this particular magical minion belonged. Apparently they were off to visit Gabe.
When: Late night, December 29th
Where: Primarily Gabe's rooms
What: Returning a lost belonging
William was re-shelving his last stack of books for the night when a flicker of motion caught the corner of his eye. There was nothing there when he turned, which led him to suspect it was one of the older students sneaking around trying to gain access to the Restricted Section. He frowned, waiting a moment longer, and then reached up to slide the final book onto the shelf and saw the flicker again. Much closer this time. A few inches from his fingers, in fact.
The mysterious intruder wasn’t a student, it was a snake. A hooded cobra, specifically. And one that was either Disillusioned or Chameleon Cloaked, judging by the way it faded in and out of sight. “Hello,” he said cautiously, voice low. He wished he could speak Parseltongue, but tone of voice was the best he could do. Back in second-year, he and Andrew had spent several weeks attempting to learn the basics from a recorded spoken-words book, but that had been long ago and they’d never really mastered the art. It was a difficult language to get the hang of, when everything on the recording sounded almost exactly the same to their ears.
The snake either couldn’t read his tone or didn’t care, because she coiled warningly, head rearing back. William froze, keeping very still as he watched it for signs of aggression. He would be able to get to Bob in time if it were merely a case of snakebite venom, of course, but this was no ordinary snake. William could feel the tingle of magic flickering dangerously along with its forked tongue.
“Right,” he said slowly. “Just let me…”
A conjured mouse was probably less satisfying to a cobra than a real one, but debatably more ethical to produce, and certainly quicker in a pinch. The snake made reasonably fast work of it regardless, while William stood at a careful distance and watched, his wand moving in deliberate, measured circles. The snake moved more slowly as the temperature dropped, relaxing into well-fed torpidity. It didn’t react with alarm when William edged forward, so he hooked it gently with his wand and let it curl sleepily around his arm.
“No biting,” he told it. He couldn’t remember the name that had been on the notice, but he had no doubt where this particular magical minion belonged. Apparently they were off to visit Gabe.