The Trophy Room is on the third floor, and the stairs on the third and fourth floors move around, constantly shifting directions. Alistair finally reached a stable flight of stairs and let out a sigh of relief, only to bump right into someone at the landing—Professor Snape.
"Well," a cold voice came down from above. Alistair was knocked to the ground, his Wand slipping out of his hand and rolling to the side. "A Gryffindor fool out wandering after hours and caught by a professor? Think you're very brave, do you?"
With the moonlight at his back, the dim surroundings made it impossible to see Alistair's expression. Snape watched the student on the ground climb back up and let out a hum: "Five points from Gryffindor. Get back to your common room this instant."
Alistair gritted his teeth. Snape was so blindingly biased that he wouldn't even give someone a chance to explain.
He stood up, took a few deep breaths, and said calmly to Snape, "Very well, Professor, but I must clarify that I was serving detention in the Trophy Room. Goodnight, Professor." With that, he glanced at Snape and brushed past him down the corridor.
Standing at the corner, the corners of Snape's mouth twitched as if he wanted to say something more, but in the end, he just walked away with a dark face.
Alistair climbed a narrow flight of stone steps and reached the corridor leading to the secret entrance of Gryffindor Tower, where he whispered the password to the Fat Lady in her gorgeous silk dress who was currently dozing off in her portrait: "Pig snout."
The portrait swung forward, and Alistair climbed through the opening into the common room and up to the boys' dormitory. By the time he got back to his room, everyone else was already asleep.
***
Tuesday morning had Herbology and Charms, followed by Transfiguration in the afternoon.
Alistair sat at the dining table yawning, eating breakfast without much enthusiasm. The food at Hogwarts was abundant, and the house-elves' cooking was always exceptionally good; it didn't take long for Alistair to perk up and enjoy the dishes he hadn't tried yet.
"Ali, what were you up to yesterday?" The Weasley twins sat down on either side of Alistair and immediately piled the food they wanted onto the plates in front of them.
"Filch roped me into scrubbing the Trophy Room." Alistair kept his attention on the breakfast spread, giving a vague wave-off.
"We thought you were out night-walking!"
"And you didn't even tell me and George!"
"Clearly, our poor Ali was enslaved all night long." Fred patted Alistair on the shoulder.
Alistair nearly choked—he was in the middle of drinking a bowl of rich soup.
He picked up a napkin to wipe his mouth, looked at Fred, then at George, and explained, "Alright, last night was mostly just staring at trophies until way too late."
"What's so fun about the Trophy Room?" George asked, popping a piece of pudding into his mouth.
"Obviously nothing, it's just a bunch of trophies." Alistair curled his lip, finished his soup, let out a breath, and continued, "I just found out that Professor Dumbledore used to be a Head Boy."
"That's hardly news!"
"Didn't you ever read about Dumbledore's great achievements?!" Two heads turned to stare at him in unison.
Alistair sighed. "I used to live with my grandmother. My grandmother is of Eastern descent, a complete Muggle." Besides, the books didn't seem to have all that much about Dumbledore's past, or maybe he just hadn't retained it.
"Oh, you really ought to read *A History of Magic*, though isn't the Ruerik family a pure-blood wizarding family?"
"Yes, I'll consider it." Alistair put down his napkin. "Now, because of my grandparents, we're a half-blood family."
"Oh, that's not your fault, being half-blood is nothing." Fred finished eating as well and stood up alongside Alistair. "So, can you tell us what Eastern countries are like? People's clothing customs...?"
George stood up too, packing his schoolbag. "Come on, Ali, tell us all about it before class starts!"
"Daily life and customs are pretty different between the East and the West..."
"What about looks? I heard Eastern women are really pretty!"
"Oh—their facial features are a bit softer than Westerners. Characteristic features? Usually black eyes and black hair." Alistair pointed to his own eyes. "Black."
Fred curled his lip, clearly disappointed. "Is that it? We might not have *tons* of people with black hair and black eyes around here, but it's not like you never see them. Look at Lee Jordan, for one."
Lee Jordan was a black boy with a traditional dreadlock hairstyle. He was enthusiastic, extremely talkative, and got along with everyone—no wonder he would eventually become a Quidditch commentator.
Hearing the Weasley twins, Lee Jordan couldn't help but chime in, "I'm not the only one with black hair and black eyes! Professor Snape has them too!"
"Sure, the old bat's definitely an exception," George said with an amused chuckle.
Alistair looked over at the staff table just as Snape stood up, getting ready to leave.
Alistair curled his lip and muttered under his breath, "Could his father have had Eastern ancestry?" After all, he had typical black hair, black eyes, and a rather sallow complexion—though Alistair quickly pushed the thought out of his head.
"Alright, you're supposed to be telling us about Easterners, not the greasy old bat." Fred hooked his arm around Alistair's neck, cutting off his boring speculations.
This Herbology class wasn't going to be theory anymore; Professor Sprout led them from the classroom out to Greenhouse One in the back garden.
Greenhouse One mostly contained mild-mannered herbs that posed no danger to first-years, so Professor Sprout didn't pay too much attention to the students trailing behind her as she led them straight inside.
They walked right to the middle of the greenhouse, where there was a patch of marshy ground blocked from the sunlight by bushes on either side, with vines creeping along the edges.
"Everyone! Today we are learning about Devil's Snare," Sprout said, waving her Wand to ignite a small flame as she brought the students closer to the vines. "These vines surrounding the marsh are Devil's Snare. Devil's Snare loves to live in dark, damp places. Their vines are like snakes; they will slowly wrap around your feet, and the moment you struggle—" Sprout tossed a mouse into the thicket, and the vines instantly closed in, wrapping tightly around it in a deadly coil.
Several students gasped.
"Does anyone know how to make the vines let go?" Sprout asked.
"Drive them off with fire," Alistair answered.
"Correct! Five points to Gryffindor!" Sprout brought the flame close to the vines. The vines shrank back as if scorched, released their hold on the mouse, and retreated to the edges of the marsh. "You see, this is when you can use fire to drive them away. They are afraid of light and dryness."
"Alright children, back outside." Sprout shooed the students toward the exit. "It is far too damp in here."
Professor Sprout led the students from both houses to the outer area of Greenhouse One, where a long table and dozens of chairs had been set up.
"Go on, sit down." Hufflepuff and Gryffindor students mixed together at the tables.
"Did everyone bring your textbooks? Or your notes?" Sprout scanned the circle, seeing that only a handful of people had brought notebooks. "Oh, no matter. Those of you who brought them can write down what I just said, and those without notebooks can borrow theirs to copy later."
Alistair pulled out his notebook, laid it flat, and picked up a quill. "Professor, could you go over that again from the beginning?"
"Oh, of course, of course." Sprout gave him a warm smile and began to recount her explanation of Devil's Snare.
"Devil's Snare is a plant that grows in dark, damp locations. They hate the light and love the shade. They are long like vines and slick like snakes. Once they catch you, they will first wrap around a part of you. If you struggle desperately, they will tighten their vines, wrapping around your entire body until you finally suffocate."
"Of course, children, don't worry. If you accidentally get tangled up, stand completely still and wave your Wand; a simple fire-spitting charm will drive them off. In truth, their danger is minimal—the only ones who get hurt by them are the ignorant." Sprout explained slowly, finally extinguishing the blue-white flame on her Wand tip. "Well, children, any other questions?"
The young wizards were clearly somewhat shocked, sitting in absolute silence.
Alistair closed his notebook and replied, "No questions, Professor."
"Right then, class dismissed! Off you go!" Sprout unlocked the greenhouse door and began ushering the students out.