Zodiac High-The Series

Zodiacs At Hogwarts (70K) Part One

GEMINI ROOKWOOD

"Now, son, what do you have to report?"

It was the fifth time this week he'd used the enchanted crystal ball to reach me. He kept on pressing me for answers, almost like he knew I knew something else. Something I wasn't letting on. I sighed, ensuring the royal blue curtains around my four-poster were drawn as I turned to face the ball, my father's face visible in the clouds contained within it. It was clever, really, the incantation he'd put on them, linking them to each other and allowing for communication through all barriers.

A lot better than that Vanishing Cabinet rubbish the Malfoys had pitched, but there was hope for that as well yet, considering the Dark Lord's infatuation with Dumbledore and his ultimate killing. Next year, he'd told Mr Malfoy in that serpentine voice of his, Nagini by his side.

"Well?" my father demanded, looking quite irritated.

"No new developments. I've got my eye on the Weasley girl just like you asked."

"Good. Now keep an eye on all her brothers too. I want to know where they are and what they're doing at all times outside of class. It could give us some clues as to what that little Potter brat is planning."

"Yes, Father."

"And might I add, son, that the Patil kid's reported a lot more to us?"

"I'm sorry. I'll contact you if I see something."

"You must contact me. Our family's reputation is at stake. If you don't prove yourself to the Dark Lord, Lucius Malfoy might as well be handing his son a guaranteed position as a trusted member of the inner circle. We are a family of nobility, Gemini, and we belong in that inner circle. Now, you're a smart boy. I don't have to explain that to y-"

Covering the ball with my blanket, I sighed, opening up the textbook resting on the nightstand, flipping to the 'Notes' section. My quill made contact with the page and the words began to come pouring out, my father's muffled shouting barely audible.

Today was another horrible day. Once again, my father contacted me, vis-a-vis the crystal ball, to demand answers. I'm sick and tired of listening to the bastard's voice, all that talk about the family name-

My heart sped up as the familiar scraggly, black font began to appear and a message slowly formed. 

Slow down! What did he want to know?

Pressing my quill to the page, I began to write, the ball finally having gone silent.

Same old questions. 

A reply came back within seconds, messily written as always.

Vague as always, I see.

In spite of myself, I laughed silently, writing back.

Well, what can I say? I'm a person of mystery.

'Person of mystery.' Very funny.

Glad I made you laugh.

Well, we'll talk soon. Sleep well, 'person of mystery.'

You too, other person of mystery.

Grinning, I closed the book. I silently praised myself on my genius with it-a book bound to only one other book in the world, the last remaining copy of a required textbook-the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5-at Flourish and Blotts, enchanted for instant communication, just like the crystal ball, except through written exchange. It was, of course,somebody in my year writing to me, which was why I kept it so vague. It was selfish of me, unloading my problems upon an unsuspecting classmate, but I had nobody else willing to truly listen.