Suspicions

Suspicious, that's what Hermione seemed like after the potions class. It was absolutely clear to Deacon that there was something influencing her that changed her personality or the way she acted in comparison to the original story. 

The plot of Harry Potter was certainly one of Deacon's advantages, but it wasn't the most important one. The future was never meant to be certain, while divination can help in somewhat seeing the future. It truly only guides the path of fate to the foreseen event.

As Deacon walked into the room, he could see Vincent and Gregory moving around their belongings, their clothes and whatnot magically disappearing once placed inside their trunks.

"What's going on here? You guys changed rooms?"

The two turned back and looked at him in exasperation.

"Yes, we got changed to be in Draco's room, you'll be with his roommates now, sorry you had to learn this way"

"Well that's a shame"

Deacon sat on his bed, looking at his shoes. These two were maybe the only friends he had made in the entire school... maybe not friends but surely close acquaintances. Now it really depended on who his new roommates were that determined if he was going to get any new-

*Creak*

-friends.

The door opened to reveal two boys entering the room. One boy stood tall for his age but had a rather sickly complexion, his brown hair carefully arranged, having not left a single thread out of place. 

Theodore Nott.

One of the most recognizable of the first years, although he didn't put any effort into assuming his position, most assumed him as an alternative leader of the first-year Slytherins compared to Draco.

The other boy who had entered through the door was Blaise Zabini. Another of the more unassuming students, however, he remained as one of the more popular boys due to being Italian. His looks didn't betray his reputation either, he had tanned olive skin with short black hair. He had an air of pure efficiency, giving the impression that he would crush you if you were in his way.

Both of these boys were geniuses in potions, however, one of their most particular traits was-

"Done staring Mudblood?"

That they were pureblood supremacists and absolute cunts.

"No I'd like to dirty you more with my Mudblood eyes thank you very much"

Deacon retorted. Blaise turned his head and scoffed, murmuring something under his breath whilst clenching his fist. Theodore stared impassively at the two of them before laying his trunk in Vincent's old bed and frankly leaving. 

This wasn't the best outcome in terms of roommates and Deacon would surely not be able to make any new friends. That should be his main goal for now, to make some friends because he would genuinely need some if he was going to want to survive this school year.

...

How do you make friends again?

Now it was certain he was going to be the loneliest student in this school. 

"Friendship is a requirement, humans are social creatures after all. It is certainly possible to make some companions, maybe some will be loyal to you until death"

Deacon thanked the strange voice in his head for comforting him. Now, because it was his first week at school he hadn't many tasks to do, let alone force him to drown himself in studies like those Ravenclaws did. Perhaps he could try cooking?

He did remember about the room of requirement. Why not use that?

Deacon lept up from his bed and sauntered out of the room. The common room was awfully full and yet he could feel eyes staring at him with malice, Snape never tolerated any bullying or physical conflict between any Slytherin students so he didn't need to worry. But there was an entire hierarchy in this place so he had to act a certain way.

He walked slowly out of the common room, not in a hurry but not at a snail's pace. His face was passive with wandering eyes that blankly gazed at the students staring at him. Calmly he left the room.

'Holy shit my heart is weak'

Maybe it was due to his conflict-avoiding cowardly nature but he was in fact, not calm. Rather he was very anxious, like stage anxiety but instead of putting on a performance he was just walking out. As he thought about it this was really seeming like he had some sort of social anxiety... No, he probably didn't right?

...

[Deacon Butch]

Affection status: nonexistent

Likes: Food, Forbidden rituals, Cooking

Hates: Arrogance, Talking, Bad Food

Key traits: Mild social anxiety, Hears voices in his head

...

Deacon shivered, a little jolt traveling up his spine, it felt as if someone looked right through him. It was as if someone spontaneously decided to look through his mind, it reminded him faintly of the sorting hat but instead of coaxing the answers from his head it ripped them right out, was this Legilimency? He hadn't looked someone in the eyes for this to occur.

This meant that whoever cast it upon him was certainly good at his job and indefinitely more powerful than him, two people come to mind but it isn't certain who it could be. Voldemort was easy to blame but he hadn't seen that strange twitchy mess of a professor around, and he didn't smell garlic nearby so it was up to grabs.

Albus too many names Dumbledore, the one with incredible control over the castle, and considered one of, if not the strongest wizard of the entirety of the world. If he was essentially mind-raped then that meant he was under suspicion for being a potential new noseless fiend.

This strange feeling was not pleasant whatsoever but he couldn't do anything about it. The only problem was if he was deemed too much of a threat by Dumbledore, the man was theorized to have planned the entirety of Harry Potter's encounters with Voldemort. While Deacon couldn't depend on some baseless theories there was no problem in being at least a little bit wary of the man.

Soon he was at his destination, a tapestry of a man trying to humorously teach trolls to dance like ballerinas, the concept was just absurd but considering how weird wizards can be, this tapestry is probably true. 

He walked past the tapestry three times, at all those times making his intentions clear, he needed a place to cook. Just as he walked past the tapestry a third time a dancy door appeared on the wall, it seemed inconspicuous enough and Deacon was sure that once he walked through this door, it would vanish.

He gripped the doorknob and pushed.

*Click*

*Creak*

Thus, he found himself inside a kitchen, with pots and pans evenly organized on a dining table at the center of the room. Attached to the wall was a stovetop oven and a wide space with three boxes, each carrying cooking utensils, silverware, and cutting boards.

This was a chef's dream, the only problem was that some of the forks were dancing whilst a group of spoons were repeatedly trying to stack themselves on each other. 

Wait a minute...

Where's the food?