Round Robin: Bookbound
Dean stared unseeingly at the blue and bronze banners that hung from the wall of the Ravenclaw common room. He couldn’t sleep. He felt too restless. He wasn’t the only one awake. There were a few students huddled together over a table on the far side of the common room playing some sort of card game. They spoke in low voices, their laughter restrained as they flipped cards and snapped their fingers. Dean closed his eyes to tune them out and focus on his own thoughts. A shaky plan formed in his mind as he tried to prioritize what he needed to do first from his mental list.
He needed to schedule a time to meet up with the other Travelers. He could tell it was going to be hard juggling his schoolwork and his self-study sessions. Next, he needed to-
A small explosion could be heard and Dean’s head shot in the direction of the table nearby. There was a thin plume of smoke coming from one of the cards and the girl facing him, covered her mouth before bursting into a fit of giggles. Of all the times they could choose to play Exploding Snap. Dean messaged his temple, letting out a calming breath. By the time he focused back to his surroundings, he noticed a young boy in the armchair in front of him, holding a black tome protectively against his chest.
“Hello,” greeted Dean.
The boy dropped his gaze as if he were hesitant to respond. Dean knew him. He tried to memorize all the Ravenclaws names that were sorted in the same year from him. The ‘book’ didn’t really go into detail about the students in other houses. Which makes sense, since the main character was from Gryffindor.
Dean’s vision blurred as he met the boy’s bright blue eyes, and the room vanished and was replaced by Neville’s round face. “I’ll be in Gryffindor and keep an eye on the trio,” his voice echoed. Dean’s vision distorted again, snippets of memories played silently, shortening to just brief images until they settled to a familiar white void, where a small group of people crowding over a book.
Dean inhaled sharply as he suddenly came to, noticing the boy was still in front of him.
There was an apology at his lips, but he refrained. There was something about that boy reminded him of the other Travelers.
“Do you know J.K. Rowling?”
The boy looked at "Dean" in confusion. "No," he answered. "Who's that?"
Being unable to tell who was and wasn't a Traveler was starting to be a problem; the more people who knew about the Travelers, the higher the chance that Voldemort would find out via Quirrell, and if that happened, there was a high chance of this version of the story turning out worse than in canon. And, in this very moment, it was unclear if this boy in particular would mention the name JK Rowling to anyone else, or if the question would lead back to "Dean".
The next day, Dean woke up earlier than the rest of the boys in his dorms to avoid interacting with his housemates. Usually, he wouldn’t have minded assimilating with the other first years, but they all seemed to know each other. He discovered some alarming information about the boy he encountered yesterday that he urgently felt he needed to tell Daphne. Luckily, they had Charms together.
The corridors that led to the library were empty of anyone alive. There were two ghosts who walked arm in arm, in front of him on his way there. They flirted unabashedly until they phased straight through the stone walls. Dean shook his head with a smile, still in awe that he was experiencing Hogwarts firsthand. When he went through the library doors, he met the unmistakable figure of Madam Pince. Her hawk-like gaze narrowed and tracked him his entire stay at the library. Thankfully, he didn’t need to stay long, with the help of prefect, he was able to obtain what he needed and borrow books. Dean was surprised the librarian checked out his books without a word. She did manage to shoot him judgmental looks with each title making him feel like he was two inches tall. He had a hunch she was aware of how uncomfortable he was and decided to drag out his stay by inspecting each book in depth. It wasn’t long before Dean began wishing the ground would swallow him whole.
By the time he left the library, Dean’s stomach felt too queasy for breakfast, and he took his time asking the portraits for directions to class. After several flight of stairs and two hidden corridors later, he finally arrived at the Charms classroom a little late and out of breath. The room was already filled with students, so Dean eyes swept the room for Daphne’s familiar blonde hair. He was surprised to find her already looking in his direction and greeting him with a nod. Finding the seat next to her vacant, he closed the distance dropping his bag on the floor and returned the nod.
“I think I made a mess of things,” Dean said just loud enough for her to hear as he sat down.
“What happened, mate?”
“I think I met a natural Legilimens. He’s a first-year name Stephen Cornfoot.” Dean gnawed on his bottom lip. “I was confused and thought he was one of us and didn’t figure it out until afterwards. We really need to learn Occlumency.”
"Fuck!" Daphne swore, a wave of panic washing over her at their near-compromise. Seeing Dean's guilty face, she reassured him, "It's not your fault, mate. But yeah, we need to learn Occlumency. The question is, how?"
Dean's face brightened. "I picked up some books from the library on the way here," he said excitedly, "but I haven't gotten the chance to try any of it yet."
"I thought that kind of thing would be in the Restricted Section," Daphne contemplated. "Still, that's good news. We can at least get started."
"But how will we know if we're successfully practicing Occlumency?" Dean asked.
It was a fair question, Daphne thought. Usually, learning Occlumency required active probing from an experienced Legilimens, like how Snape taught Harry or how Bellatrix taught Draco.
"Well, then we need to practice Legilimency alongside it," Daphne reasoned. "But those texts are definitely in the Restricted Section, so we can't start on that yet." She then offered a suggestion: "For now, while we're learning Occlumency, maybe we can practice in the company of Stephen Cornfoot and see if he can pick anything up."
“Good idea. I better start studying,” Dean said.
Now, Daphne brought up the topic she'd wanted to discuss in the first place. "Cool, listen," she began, "I'm thinking about something a little risky, but if it's successful, we can get a good head start on our magical progression."
“What is it?” Dean asked curiously.
"I want to steal the Half-Blood Prince's Potions book during my Potions class," Daphne declared.
Dean looked horrified. “How are you going to manage that?”
Daphne laid out her plan. "I'm thinking of taking advantage of Neville's inevitable potion accident. I'll be sitting close to the supply cupboard. When Snape's attention is locked on Harry and Neville, I'll sneak in and grab the book."
“That’s pretty risky,” Dean said after a moment of silence. “But the benefits do outweigh the risks.”
"Yep," Daphne agreed. "And it's not just advanced potion shortcuts; we'd also get Snape's unique spells. We could definitely use Muffliato for all the secret 'Traveler' stuff we'll be doing."
“True,” said Dean. “Speaking of spells, do you feel any different now that you have magic? Have you tested any to see if Travelers can even cast magic?”
"I do feel different," Daphne replied. "It's like a sense of self I didn't have before. I tried Lumos because it's simple, and it worked. Also, after I slept, I got access to some of Daphne's memories, which helped since she already knew a few easy charms."
“I got nothing from Dean,” he said, a little dejected. “But that’s probably because he was raised as a Muggle.”
"Don't worry, it's not that much of a head start. You'll catch up soon," Daphne assured him. "Let's meet in the library after classes. We can study spells and Occlumency, and I can start teaching you what I know."
“Sounds like a plan,” Dean said.
Daphne grinned. "Cool. Class is gonna start soon. Let's meet later, okay?"
Potions came quickly, and the Gryffindors and Slytherins found themselves sitting and waiting for Professor Snape to come in and begin class, which didn't take very long. Snape strode in, slamming the door behind him as he called out, "There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class!" He spun around once he reached the podium, his hair whipping back as he did. "As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few..."
"Daphne" had expected Snape's gaze to rest on Draco, as had been the case in the movie (and she was still processing how Snape's introduction resembled the movie more than the book), but that wasn't the case. Instead, much to "Daphne's" surprise, he was looking directly at "her".
"Miss Greengrass," Snape began, "can you tell me the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
A little startled by Snape putting her on the spot, Daphne replied, "Sir, monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite."
Snape maintained his poker face. "...Indeed," he drawled. "And where would one find a bezoar?"
Daphne instantly replied, regurgitating information from her multiple readings of the textbook. "A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat, and it will save you from most poisons."
Snape continued his interrogation. "And what would I get if I mixed powdered root of asphodel with an infusion of wormwood?"
"Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death," Daphne answered.
"You seem to be exceptionally well-versed in the art of potion-making, Miss Greengrass," Snape said, his voice a low silk. "So much so that one might assume you possessed... foreknowledge of my questions."
Daphne, trying with all her might not to give herself away, replied, "I simply read the assigned books in advance, sir. That's all."
"Indeed...?" Snape murmured critically. "I suppose being born into a wizarding home has given you enough time to prepare...." He then turned his glare upon the rest of the class. "As for the rest of you, I expect each of you to have read the material before stepping into my classroom."
After that, he wrote the instructions for a simple Cure for Boils on the board. Her partner turned out to be Theodore Nott, which suited her just fine; the reclusive boy had a no-nonsense attitude and didn't give a damn as long as others minded their own business.
While working through the steps, Daphne's mind raced, replaying what had just happened. She thought things had been turning out well: she and Dean were practising Occlumency, studying together, and conspiring. Alarmingly, Neville had suddenly transformed into his "canon" self the next day, which had inspired plenty of discussion among the Travelers about their own impending erasure. She had made peace with it; if she were suddenly gone, then so be it. She was determined to pull out all the stops on her magical progression.
Her plan to acquire the Half-Blood Prince's book was already underway. She had ordered a brand-new copy of Advanced Potion-Making and had mastered Diffindo and Reparo for the switch.
As she worked, she kept a subtle watch on Harry, Ron, Neville, and Snape. Snape had shifted his attention from her and seemed to be making up for not bullying, or rather, questioning, Harry earlier. He was now circling Harry like a shark, criticising his every move and barking instructions. Neville was far more intimidated than Harry, and having the accident-prone Seamus as a partner wasn't helping.
The moment Neville's potion erupted, Snape swooped in to clean the mess. In the ensuing chaos, Daphne slipped over to the supply cupboard. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she found the tattered copy of Advanced Potion-Making. With two swift, silent flicks of her wand: Diffindo! Reparo!, she had swapped the covers and slipped the original back onto the shelf, the pristine new cover now disguising her precious prize.
The first day of classes went by relatively smoothly for the student Travelers, as there was less pressure for them to behave the way their book counterparts did. "Daphne" fared somewhat better than "Dean", as "Dean" had to navigate a different house than what he was familiar with, yet "Daphne" would be involved in pure-blood politics.
"Trelawney", on the other hand, was in a less-than-ideal situation, being responsible for knowing her curriculum, figuring out where she put things in her office, and figuring out how to teach. Worst of all was her proximity to Quirrell, with both of them having once been Ravenclaws under Flitwick's headship of the house.
“Trelawney” ushered the last students down the ladder. She was exhausted. The teaching was somehow manageable; she didn’t mind giving lectures, and the real Trelawny had left decent notes. Impersonating an eccentric, dramatical seer was worse. She couldn’t think of a character more unlike herself.
Looking at the students’ tealeaf and palms, while gasping or squeaking thrilled comments about their futures had given her nothing but a throbbing headache. Prediction with crystal balls seemed more promising.
That tingling sensation had stirred again, along with vague shapes in the ball. She was now fairly certain she had inherited some of the real Trelawney’s skills, simple spells like “reparo”, seemed to work well enough.
After classes Trelawny skipped dinner to get some rest. Unfortunately, her headache was persistent, so she headed for the infirmary to ask for a potion.
This close to curfew, the corridors were half empty. Hence, it was easy to spot Daphne and Dean leaving the library. She immediately confronted them.
“I feel you two have exceptional inner eyes. Tell me, what do you sense living below the dungeons?” Trelawney asked, in her most dramatic voice.
Daphne looked surprised. “Professor, you mean the Basilisk?”
Oh, thank God! She had been right about them.
“Hmm, yes. Are you two too out of place and time?”
“Yeah,” nodded Daphne.
“This is great! We have Trelawney! Can you see how us being here had affected the future?” Dean exclaimed excitedly.
Trelawney glanced around, the corridor was empty, but at Hogwarts the walls had ears.
She lowered her voice. “No, it doesn’t seem to work that way, even though I get some indications of the near future. This is probably not a safe place to talk. Would detention Friday in my quarters suit you?”
“Nice, detention is a good alibi for the meetings. Also, can you grant us a pass to the restricted section? We need some books to learn mind arts as soon as possible. I think, Snape suspects me,” replied Daphne, simultaneously as Dean groaned, “my clean record…”
“Oh, that is bad, Snape is intimidating. I have trouble with Quirrell. But sure, I will write you a pass, just don’t do anything reckless!” Trelawney was eager to move on before they attracted attention, she had no reason to interact with first the years.
“Thank you, Ma’am. That’d help a lot!”
Trelawny smiled, she wasn’t alone anymore. “Great, until Friday then!”
“Occlumency is a complex magical skill that is difficult to perfect. To most, it is considered an obscured branch of magic. Not because it is deemed as abstruse or mysterious but rather by how unlikely an average person is to meet a Legilimens...”
Dean snorted at the text. Unlikely? Ha!
Daphne already had Snape’s attention. Trelawny had Voldemort’s. Dean, Stephen Cornfoot’s. Then there was Dumbledore. It was better to ask, who wasn’t a Legilimens at this point! They were probably scattered all around Hogwarts, being complete ninjas and nefariously siphoning thoughts from people’s mind. The gall!
Dean leaned back on his chair until it stood precariously on its hind legs and sighed. His jaw slackened as he raised his head back to look at the ceiling. He could barely make out the cobwebs twinkling in the shadows from a nearby candelabra. Life would be much simpler as a spider…
His reverie didn’t last long before the sound of someone clearing their throat pierced through his thoughts. Within seconds, Dean rocked forward until all four legs of his chair slammed audibly on the floor with a dull clunk. He was surprised by how the authoritative, feminine tone was able to elicit such a knee jerk response from his body.
Dean owlishly met the eyes of Professor Sinistra, who gave him a warning look before walking back to the blackboard.
Dean scrutinized the back of her velvet purple robes, eyeing the silver stars that dotted her clothes in suspicion. How do teachers always know when he’s slacking off?
With one last wary look at Sinistra, Dean bowed his head to adjust his astronomy book over his Occlumency tome to hide it.
He continued reading the next passage. “An Occlumens must empty their mind of thoughts and emotions to activate their skill. In this state, they can repel a mind invasion by disarming, shielding or hexing an opponent.”
Dean eyed the text in contemplation.
That’s interesting. He recalled that Harry sent Snape a stinging hex in the books, but Snape warned him Harry’s accidental magic kicked in because he was ‘too far in’. If disarming and hexing was too obvious for an Occlumens to fend off an attack, that only left shielding as an alternative to not let the enemy know. Because the moment the intruder knows Occlumens can shield their thoughts, they can look through other means of getting information.
Dean shuddered at the possibilities.
Daphne here. It's been nearly two months since she and the others dropped into the Harry Potter universe. After finding out that Trelawney is a fellow Traveller, their plans have been going well.
Daphne, Dean, and Trelawney have made some strides in the Mind Arts. Since obtaining the manual and materials from the Restricted Section (thanks to Trelawney), they have been gaining a good understanding of the discipline.
Most importantly, for their current level, they have been avoiding eye contact because a Legilimens at least needs that to read superficial memories. Also, for further intrusion, a Legilimens has to cast the active Legilimens spell. Through some botched-up practising among the Travellers, they can now perceive an active Legilimency attack. Their basic strategy is to avoid eye contact, and if it's not possible, to fill their superficial thoughts with as much bullshit as possible.
Snape has continued observing her but hasn't called on her further since their first class. He did occasionally ask her questions, and she had kept rote learning the first-year books and easily recited the answers.
She also had to face the unfortunate Pure-Blood politics of Slytherin. While there wasn't overt antagonism, there had been some subtle jabs about her hanging out with a "Mudblood." Daphne shrugged and answered them by simply pointing out her and Dean's point contributions to their respective houses. Indeed, she and Dean have been crushing the point leaderboard to the degree that she earned good acknowledgement from older housemate, to the sorrow of Draco Malfoy and his stooges.
Now, on Halloween, she had just finished her Herbology class with Dean when she witnessed a crying Hermione Granger running past. Damn, she realized that it's the day of the troll attack.
