Toward evening, Grid finally "came to" and, after an examination by Madam Pomfrey, left the hospital wing and headed for the Hogwarts dungeons where the Slytherin common room was located. After descending the staircase and reaching the wall decorated with skulls, the young man spoke the password — "pure blood" — and the wall slid aside.
The moment the mage stepped into the common room, the students who had been chatting among themselves immediately turned their attention to Snape, sending encouraging smiles and nods his way, which left him mildly puzzled.
"Here he is — our star," — a cheerful voice rang out, and the house prefect approached Grid — the same boy who had earlier spoken in his defence before Slughorn.
"Has something happened?" — the young man raised an eyebrow, bemused.
"Don't pretend you don't know. Stripping Gryffindor of a hundred points in two days — not many can claim that," — several Slytherins nodded along, confirming Macmillan's words.
"I see. Glad I could help." — Without another word, he headed toward the dormitories. "I'm tired today. If you want to talk or discuss something, I'll be in my room."
At those words, many of the students watched his retreating back with immediate displeasure — they were not ordinary people, and the young man's arrogance did not sit well with them at all. The prefect himself said nothing on the matter, simply said his farewells and went about his own business. He knew more than the others about what had actually happened and where Severus had been all this time, and so he held his tongue. It would also make it easier in the future to draw him to his side once the others had damaged their own relationship with him.
Snape had genuinely interested him — and not only because of his gift in Potions. From their very first meeting, it had seemed to Macmillan that something had changed in the previously quiet and rather beaten-down young man, and that change fascinated him greatly. This was also his final year at Hogwarts, and the opportunity to build a solid relationship with someone like this was unlikely to present itself again. And so he had been careful to treat him with courtesy — to leave a good impression.
Finally alone in his room and having quickly scanned it for monitoring charms, he dropped face-first onto the bed.
"Another day draws to a close." — Rolling onto his back, he extended his palm toward the nightstand. An inkwell, a quill, and a blank sheet of paper flew out toward him. Hm. I think his help could be useful.
A few minutes later the quill stopped writing, and the sheet curled into a roll.
I'll need to find an owl. — In the next instant, information about the owlery in the left wing of Hogwarts surfaced in his mind. Excellent. Then… — He sat up, opened a drawer, and produced a small jingling pouch from which ten gold coins — Galleons — and seven silver ones — Sickles — tumbled onto the bed. Not much. I'll need to find a way to earn more… If only I'd known I was going to end up in another world, I would have studied alchemy more seriously. Though I do know a few dozen entry-level potions — the question is whether the ingredients even exist here. I should look into that during the holidays, or ask Slughorn. — The mage smiled faintly and extended his hand. "Fotia." — A small fireball ignited in his palm. Just one word and I conjured fire. And best of all, the runes from my world still carry power here — though I won't be able to use them to any meaningful degree until I've increased my magical capacity and taken that potion. For now, I need to reach at least the Magister level to feel reasonably safe, and after that gradually build my strength somewhere well away from all this chaos. A damned war — and why couldn't I have been sent to a more peaceful era… — He yawned and closed his eyes. First things first — I'll need to earn a significant sum of money… WAIT! — He shot upright, his eyes lighting up. That could actually work. If the runes from my world function here, I'll need materials — and there happens to be a forest nearby.
After his brainstorming session, Grid decided to pursue his business idea the following evening. He spent the entire day in the library, gathering as much information as possible about the layout of the castle — cross-referencing the current floor plans with older ones he managed to find by digging through the general section. But what was most interesting was that after combing through the entire library under Madam Pince's disapproving gaze, Snape found the earliest blueprint dated only to 1780. Nothing older. That both disappointed and intrigued him, for it meant someone had deliberately concealed the earlier records — though it was possible they had simply been lost. Grid was certain it was the former.
He also examined the water supply system and plumbing blueprints, with the same result: nothing predating the 1780s.
But Snape understood well that nothing can be hidden so completely — for alongside blueprints, there were also history textbooks.
In one such textbook, he found a rather interesting piece of information regarding a certain Corvinus Marvolo Gaunt, who in 1750 had overseen the installation of the plumbing system at Hogwarts.
There might have been nothing remarkable about this — were it not for one enormous detail: the Gaunts were direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin, one of the greatest wizards who had founded Hogwarts. And who better than Grid to understand how deeply aristocrats — purebloods especially — valued their pride? Suggest to any Slytherin student that they go digging around in what was essentially sewage and lay pipes, and they would tap their temple and send the suggester packing. Yet Gaunt had agreed without objection to crawl through what amounted to waste and install plumbing and sanitation. The idea was absurd on its face — and that was precisely why Grid latched onto it.
And though he had found almost nothing concrete, the wizard felt he was on the right track.
By evening, the mage left the library — but had taken barely a few steps when he stopped, looking with mild surprise at a grey-ashen cat with dark stripes, who stood with its chest slightly puffed out, regarding him with a dangerous gleam in its eyes.
"…" — A playful smile spread across Grid's lips, and the fur along the cat's spine immediately stood on end.
At that same moment, as though sensing something amiss, an elderly man came hurrying toward the scene. His wrinkled face wore an expression of thunderous menace — the pale, always-narrowed eyes burning with a flame that frightened every student he passed. And when he heard a pitiful meow, his face contorted, and he moved at a speed that would have made Usain Bolt envious.
Rounding the corner at a run, he fixed his furious gaze on the young man — in whose arms the cat now lay.
"RELEASE MRS. NORRIS!"
"Is this your cat?" — Grid looked up and asked with a smile, stroking the contentedly purring creature. "Mrs. Norris? A fine name." — he nodded, looking at the stunned man. "Might I play with her a little longer?"
"Mrs. Norris…"
Meow… — the cat meowed languidly, her tail swishing with pleasure at Grid's strokes.
Coming at last to his senses, Argus raised a hateful glare at Severus's face — the audacity of this student to lay hands on the most precious being in his world. He was drawing breath to unleash his fury upon the impudent boy when Filch heard something that made him freeze for a moment:
"I can see you take excellent care of her. You rarely come across a cat this well-groomed — the coat has a pleasant scent, a lovely sheen, and it's wonderfully soft and full. Her eyes are bright, without a single spot or discharge in the corners. And she's very alert and lively. Her figure—"
For the next ten minutes he continued sharing his assessment of the cat along with detailed care advice, prompting the man to actually produce a piece of paper and begin writing down what the mage was saying.
"…though I would reconsider her diet."
"Is something wrong?" — Argus asked with concern, having by now fully accepted the young man's expertise, stepping closer and peering anxiously at Mrs. Norris.
"Nothing's wrong yet," — Grid gave her a prod on the nose, and she opened her mouth slightly. "Do you catch that faintly unpleasant smell?"
The man sniffed and gave a solemn nod.
"That's already a sign of imbalance in the body. Her diet needs a small adjustment — one moment." — Taking the paper from him, he quickly turned it over and, with the quill, wrote out a balanced diet best suited to cats. His father had been quite the cat enthusiast and had taught — more accurately, forced — Grid to learn a great deal on the subject. Though if he were honest, Grid himself had always been rather fond of cats. "Don't let her overeat — it does no good."
Meow!
At the indignant mew, the wizard smiled warmly and began stroking her on the head.
"Spend more time playing with her. Your attention is very important to her."
"Understood, yes, of course," — Argus nodded repeatedly, reading through the new dietary plan, and folded the paper in half as though it were the most precious thing in the world, tucking it carefully into the inner pocket of his dark yellow jacket.
"Well, I won't keep you any longer." — He passed the cat back to caretaker Filch, turned around, and simply walked away — under the respectful gaze of the elderly man.
Only a full minute later did the old man come back to himself and stare in bewilderment after the direction the young mage had gone.
"He played me…"
Mrrrr… meow.
Argus looked down at Mrs. Norris, and his face immediately softened.
"All right. I'll pretend I didn't see him today. Come along, Mrs. Norris — we still have four rule-breakers to catch." — He grinned darkly, released the cat, and she, sensing the old man's mood, gave a menacing meow and vanished around the corner. Filch followed close behind.
At that same moment, Grid had already left the castle and was heading toward a great tree on the school grounds.