ask-felix-aberg

[ask-felix-aberg]

Brushing a bit of ash off his sleeve, the Ravenclaw crouched to inspect the scorch mark on the floor. He hummed faintly under his breath, more amused than annoyed, and gently nudged a half-melted spoon out of sight with the toe of his shoe. Probably best not to ask which attempt that had belonged to.

Straightening with a soft sigh, he rolled his sleeves back past his elbows, picked up the now-dripping tea towel from the floor, and wrung it out absently over the sink. The hiss of water against metal was the only sound for a moment, save for the quiet murmur of voices behind him.

His eyes flicked briefly toward the exchange behind him, lips twitching as he watched the two bicker with familiar ease.

Without a word, he turned back to the counter and calmly began re-measuring the flour - though his shoulders shook ever so slightly in silent laughter.

Hey, you! My, aren't you looking marvelous today~?

And....hot. Hot?? Hot!

Felix, I think your companion there may have set fire to the stove! He seems to be panicking. I'm panicking.

Why are you not panicking?

"Who says I am not panicking?!" Felix shot back, eyes wide as he flung open a drawer in search of - Merlin knows - a cloth, a lid, something!

His hand gripped the handle of a nearby tea towel, halfway raised to swat at the growing flames, before he froze. "Oh. Right."

He dropped the cloth, grabbed his wand, and aimed at the smoking mess. "Aguamenti!"

A strong jet of water burst forward, dousing the stove and hissing out the fire in seconds. Steam clouded the air before he waved the smoke away with his sleeve. "Crisis contained," he muttered, exhaling hard.

He glanced down at the charred tray and winced. "We will have to bake that again," he added, offering his companion a lopsided smile as he gave his shoulder a gentle pat.

[ask-felix-aberg]

Hey, you! My, aren't you looking marvelous today~?

And....hot. Hot?? Hot!

Felix, I think your companion there may have set fire to the stove! He seems to be panicking. I'm panicking.

Why are you not panicking?

"Who says I am not panicking?!" Felix shot back, eyes wide as he flung open a drawer in search of - Merlin knows - a cloth, a lid, something!

His hand gripped the handle of a nearby tea towel, halfway raised to swat at the growing flames, before he froze. "Oh. Right."

He dropped the cloth, grabbed his wand, and aimed at the smoking mess. "Aguamenti!"

A strong jet of water burst forward, dousing the stove and hissing out the fire in seconds. Steam clouded the air before he waved the smoke away with his sleeve. "Crisis contained," he muttered, exhaling hard.

He glanced down at the charred tray and winced. "We will have to bake that again," he added, offering his companion a lopsided smile as he gave his shoulder a gentle pat.

[ask-felix-aberg]

Cocoa flies into the Great Hall, diving straight toward you as she settles herself briefly on your head. A small piece of parchment is clutched tightly in her beak as she waits for her offered scratches—only then does she drop the paper into your lap.

Dear Felix,

Thank you, truly, for being so kind. I was a bit worried you’d think it was silly—or worse, impractical. But you didn’t, and that means more than I can properly put into words.

I suppose I’m better at writing than speaking, which... probably explains a lot.

Sunday afternoons would work best. I’ve got Astronomy logs due Monday, and Potions is being particularly cruel this week. But I’ll make time. I’ll even ask to borrow my Hufflepuff friend’s apron—the one who called me a “danger to the kitchen.”

I’ll be careful this time. And the cinnamon apple cake sounds like a divine idea! I’d also love to learn the biscuit recipe. Maybe I have hope, if it’s nearly impossible to mess up. I swear, Potions and baking go hand in hand... which reminds me—

Maybe this is ridiculous, but—if this goes well—would you like to propose a Baking Club with me? I mean, it is similar to Potions, in theory. Just something small. Informal. The kitchens once a week, maybe. I think people forget how comforting it is to make something with your hands, especially when the world is full of deadlines and enchanted staircases with no sense of direction.

I know my Hufflepuff friend would join in a heartbeat—even if only to supervise me and make sure the castle doesn’t burn down.

So, thank you, Felix. For inspiring the idea, and for the cake suggestion. I’m already looking forward to it.

Warmly, - E.

P.S. I believe your handwriting is suspiciously perfect. Is there a secret magical calligraphy class I missed?

Felix was just about to enjoy his waffles - golden, warm, perfectly crisp, and stacked with a drizzle of honey - when a familiar weight landed squarely on his head. The Ravenclaw flinched, one hand shooting up instinctively. "Ow, Cocoa, please," he muttered, trying to nudge the owl off his hair gently but urgently.

But the owl remained stubbornly stung to him, her claws tangled in his golden strands. Felix sighed through his nose.

"All right. Fine. Just - hold still. Honestly..." He managed to reach up and offer her a scratch behind the head, which earned him an approving hoot and a proud drop into his lap, where she promptly fluffed up and made herself at home. Felix shook his head lightly, amused despite looking like a scarecrow now, and picked up the parchment.

Still gently scratching the cinnamon-soft feathers with one hand, the blond unfolded the paper with the other, eyes scanning the neat script. His smile warmed as he read, while occasionally tearing off a small piece off his waffle to share with his guest.

With no spare scroll in sight, Felix turned the letter over and smoothed it carefully against the table.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─☆: .☽ . :☆─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Dear E.,

Sunday sounds great! I'll meet you by the portrait with the bowl of fruit.

And don't be nervous. We'll manage this together! Even if it gets a little messy, I promise we'll figure it out. Just tell your Hufflepuff friend to prepare themselves. They might end up regretting their words (and begging for more biscuits) when we're done. :)

As for the Baking Club... I'll have to think about it properly, but if I remember my timetable right, I might be able to squeeze it in. Just something little and informal does sound nice. Once a week just to keep stress at bay and the castle smelling like cinnamon. Though if we're naming it something, I vote for The Crumb Society.

Looking forward to Sunday,

Felix

P.S. I'm flattered you like my handwriting! Apologies for the ink spots - Cocoa just jostled my elbow.

[ask-felix-aberg]

Felix, what would be your reaction if you found out that one of your siblings also got a Hogwarts letter?

Only one? Merlin, imagine that. I really hope both of them will be accepted. The bickering would never end otherwise. :)

I won't be there when they arrive, though. Which is… hard to think about, if I'm honest.

Still, I'd write to them, of course. Loads. Probably annoy them with it. And I'd send sweets too. Care packages even, stuffed with all the good things.

I'd want them to have their own adventure, find their own favourite corners and classes and people. But I'd also make sure they knew who to avoid... and where the best snacks are hidden.

And maybe - just before they leave - I would send Mademoiselle to sneak a note under each pillow. Just something silly. So they know I'm with them. Even if I'm not there to wave them off.

I would be so proud.

[ask-felix-aberg]

Felix stayed still as Hellendil worked, watching the other Ravenclaw's fingers move with concentration. The firelight flickered gently across both of them, casting soft gold against the plum strands as they finally slipped free, one loop after another, until the last knot came undone. His wrists were his again.

"Much better, thank you," the tall blond murmured, the corners of his mouth lifting as his gaze met Hellendil's.

"I suppose I'll get there eventually - with your patience," he added while reaching up to give his friend a soft, affectionate boop on the tip of his nose.

"Thank you," he said, grinning now. "You're my knitting hero."

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a warm, golden glow across the floor where Hellendil and Felix sat side by side.

The tall blond, however, was less at ease. Felix' hands were completely entangled, wrists bound tight in a stubborn web of dark grey and plum yarn. He gave the strands a tentative tug with his teeth, trying to loosen the worst of it, but the knot only seemed to tighten further.

With a quiet, defeated sigh, he turned his head to look at Hellendil, lips still lightly pressed in frustration. "How is it," he asked, exasperation softened by admiration, "that you're so good at this? The hooks listen to you like your wand."

He gave the yarn another futile wiggle. "I think mine have a vendetta."

The warm comfort of the plush Persian rug, crackling fire in the hearth and good company of his fellow housemate was perfect for relaxing on a crisp spring day.  Slowly and steadily wrapping the colorful yarn around the hook and threading it through, Hellendil counted the stitches as he went.  He was so focused, he nearly missed the soft sigh from his companion beside him.

Looking up from his work to see Felix's predicament, he smiled softly and set his piece aside to help.  "I'm really still a novice at this myself, Felix, but thank you," he replied, flushing a bit as he took his hands and searched for the errant strand binding the blond's wrists.  "My Nan showed me some basics when I was younger and I thought it might be a rather calm and low risk craft for us to learn together." Nodding to the tangle of yarn, he continued, "This used to happen all the time when I was little, playing with her yarn, and Nan had to rescue me.  Eventually I figured it out."  

Locating the source of the knot, Hellendil reached for Felix's hook and tugged at the offender until the knot started to loosen.  "I think I've almost got it," he remarks, looking up and smiling back at his friend. Setting the hook aside, he leaned closer, pulling at just the right strands for the knot to release the Swede's wrists. 

"There!  How's that?" he asks, looking up to find himself just inches away from Felix.

[ask-felix-aberg]

You’re minding your own business in the common room when the windows suddenly bang open—dramatically—and in flutters a small, cinnamon-colored short-eared owl with entirely too much personality for her size.

She lands with a little thump on the arm of your chair, puffing her feathers like she owns the place. In her beak is a folded parchment sealed with a pressed petal charm and faint flour smudges along the edges.

Before releasing it, she fixes you with an unblinking stare, then insists—insists—on chin scratches. Only after a few awkward scratches does she finally drop the letter into your lap, hoot once as if to say “You're welcome,” and flutter off without another word, vanishing back through the open window in a blur of feathers and attitude.

The note reads:

Dear Felix,

Hi. I… wasn’t sure how to say this out loud, so I’m writing instead. (It’s easier when paper can’t give you a funny look.)

I’ve overheard a few people say you like to bake, and that you’re really good at it. If it isn’t too much trouble, would you maybe be willing to share a few tips?

I’ve tried before—but let’s just say it didn’t go exactly well. My Hufflepuff friend (who shall remain nameless to protect the embarrassed) has officially retired from teaching me, citing—and I quote—“You’re a danger to the kitchen” and “It’s for everyone’s safety.”

To be fair, that bowl sort of threw itself into the fire. And the flour explosion? Entirely theoretical. Still, I’ve been warned by the house elves that I’m one incident away from a lifetime ban.

But I swear—I’m trying to improve. I promise I’ll listen, and I won’t be a fire hazard. Probably.

Anyway, if you’re willing, I’d love to learn from you. Even just a few minutes in the kitchens sometime—if the house elves allow it. If not, maybe a recipe or two?

Thank you for even reading this.

— E.

P.S. I hope Cocoa behaved herself. I’m not used to having a pet owl.

P.S.S Please excuse any accidental ink blots or flour dust. I’m still learning how to keep my hands steady.

Felix had just settled into an armchair to read something when the common room window slammed open - hard enough to startle a first-year two chairs over - and a second later, something small and feathery came barrelling in.

The owl hit the armrest beside the Ravenclaw with a purposeful thump, tail feathers twitching as she fluffed herself up like she owned the place. Felix blinked, brows lifting slightly, but before he could say a word, the owl fixed him with an unblinking, pointed stare.

She did not move. Felix exhaled softly through his nose, setting his book aside as the intensity of her gaze made it absolutely clear that ignoring her was not an option.

"All right, all right, hang on," he murmured, lips twitching as he reached out to offer a gentle scratch beneath her beak. The owl tilted her head decisively into his hand, utterly shameless about the demand. Only once she had deemed the scratches sufficient did she drop the folded parchment squarely into his lap, let out one sharp hoot and launched herself back through the open window she'd come through.

The tall blond brushed a few feathers off from his sleeve, then turned his attention to the note.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─☆: .☽ . :☆─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Dear E.,

First things first: Thank you. For your letter and for trusting me with it. And no, I would never give you (or anyone) a funny look for asking. Promise. I'm always happy to help. And I doubt it was that bad. I've dropped a tray of croissants down three flights of stairs once, so you're in good company. Some disasters make excellent stories! :)

I wouldn't call myself a master baker, but my friends seem to like what I make, so I suppose I must be doing something right. I'd love to share a few tips. Honestly, I think baking together is much more fun.

Let me know what days might work for you, and we'll plan something. You might want to bring an apron, just in case.

There's a biscuit recipe I know that's nearly impossible to mess up (unless you forget they're in the oven, which, yes, I've done), and a cinnamon apple cake that might be perfect for this weather. We could start there?

Already looking forward to it,

Felix

P.S. Cocoa was charming, really. I'm a little in love with her. :)

P.S.S. No worries about the flour. Made the letter smell like biscuits. Quite frankly, I'm not complaining.

[ask-felix-aberg]

*Across the table at breakfast, a fellow Ravenclaw is being particularly gratuitous while licking their spoon….at the same time they are watching you eat your toast.

When they are finally done with the spoon, they wiggle their eyebrows at you as if you might be their next utensil*

Felix, are you salt? Because you are sodium fine.

Felix had, in fact, noticed the way his fellow Ravenclaw was licking their spoon. It was impossible not to, really. But rather than stare, he'd chosen to politely keep his attention on his own breakfast, nudging the corner of his toast through a bit of jam, eyes fixed on the Daily Prophet newspaper like it was the only thing worth looking at in the Great Hall.

He brought the toast to his mouth and had just taken a rather big bite when the voice came, cheerful and far too confident for the early hour.

"Felix, are you salt? Because you are sodium fine."

The tall Swede choked.

Coughing into his sleeve, Felix nearly dropped the toast altogether as he tried to clear his throat, his eyes wide in surprise. He lifted a hand, index finger raised, a wordless plea for patience while he smacked his chest with his fist once, twice - still coughing.

Another wheeze, followed by a half-laugh that broke free before he could stop it.

When he finally looked up, cheeks a little flushed and eyes still watering, there was a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"You really timed that one with cruel precision," he said hoarsely, setting his toast back down with exaggerated caution. "Even though you're all about salt… your sweetness could put chocolate to shame."

He leaned forward slightly, the sparkle in his eyes unmistakable now as he shifted closer across the table. "Chapter 48: Lethal, Lascivious Lines and How to Deliver Them," he said with quiet excitement.

"You have read Romance 101 too? What's your favourite chapter?"

[ask-felix-aberg]

*His mouth tugs into a half-smile, fingers still lightly resting beneath his chin as he considers Monty's reply with a hum.*

You're probably right. Though I imagine Als wouldn't be too thrilled if I blew my whistle over something like this.

You and Theo watch another student doodle something into the ground.

"This is all about leaving markings and following trails for the people that come after you," as she continues to mark the ground.

"This is a sign of peace. A sign of friendship. A sign of direction."

Looking closer at it, the two of you notice that the doodle clearly looks like a dick.

*tilts head to the side*

It's a dick.

[ask-felix-aberg]

*Rest his fingers against his chin, deep in thought.*

It's quite… detailed. Though I suppose the artistic proportions are a little generous.

@ask-andrew-montrose, would you say that length is considered normal?

You and Theo watch another student doodle something into the ground.

"This is all about leaving markings and following trails for the people that come after you," as she continues to mark the ground.

"This is a sign of peace. A sign of friendship. A sign of direction."

Looking closer at it, the two of you notice that the doodle clearly looks like a dick.

*tilts head to the side*

It's a dick.

[ask-felix-aberg]

Hello, sweetheart. What is your favorite season and what does it mean to you?

Winter is my favourite. Not just for the snow. Though - well, I do like the snow. :)

I like the way it slows things down. Everything's quieter. Softer. The comforting feeling of being surrounded by cold when you know you have people or places that feel warm reminds me of all the small, gentle things that make you feel safe. It's the season that feels most like home.

Maybe that's what winter means to me. That contrast. The reminder that warmth doesn't have to be everywhere, just in the right place. My father used to say the cold only bites when you've no one to share your warmth with. I liked that.

[ask-felix-aberg]

*slams hands down on desk*

Why are you so damn adorable, Åberg? Huh? Why do you do this to me? You see this red face? You see this? *slaps heart monitor screen*

Unnecessary. Quit your nonsense.

Felix nearly spilled his tea. The porcelain cup jerked slightly in his hand, hot liquid sloshing just below the rim as a sudden shout startled him mid-sip. He blinked wide-eyed, head snapping up to find a flushed classmate looming over his desk.

His gaze flicked to the odd little machine blinking beside them, up at the flustered figure across from him. Then back to the odd beeping monitor screen, then back to the redness blooming across their cheeks.

"I - Was this borrowed from the Hospital Wing?" the blond asked, setting his teacup aside before it had a chance to meet a tragic end.

"I'm not entirely sure where you've gotten that from," he said slowly, pointing at the device, "but you really do not look too well," he said as he lifted a hand to stroke the side of their flushed cheek and gently brush the back of his fingers against their forehead.

"No fever," he murmured, more to himself. "But you might still be ill."

Felix rose from his chair, soft worry in his gaze. "Would you prefer to sit down for a moment?" he offered, stepping aside from his seat. "Or - if you'd rather - I can accompany you back to the Hospital Wing? Just in case. I don't mean to be rude, but you're looking rather heartstruck."

[ask-felix-aberg]

Milton lay stretched across the center of Felix’ bed, legs splayed and furry white tummy exposed. He snoozed, less-than-gracefully, sunbathing shamelessly. His delivery hadn’t even made it to the pillow—the menace! The pale pink envelope stuck out halfway from under the feline’s back leg, gold script hardly visible.

My Dearest Felix, I haven’t written in some time, I know. My mind has been rather preoccupied, and I didn’t want to waste your time with empty words. Still, I have thought of you endlessly in my absence. Recently, in class, I’ve noticed something I hadn’t picked on before now. You are incredibly shy about receiving compliments. As much time as I spend admiring you, I will admit, I avoid eavesdropping. (I find it terribly invasive.) In that, however, I never realized how bashful you can be, as well. It’s so very endearing.  Truthfully, I find myself suddenly feeling I missed the opportunity of a lifetime. The look on your face reading my first letter must have been a sight to behold. Something I’ll have to leave to my imagination, I suppose.  I’m so glad Milton has been behaving himself. He can be a bit chaotic at times. I hope life is continuing to treat you well, and I hope the rest of your week will be as lovely as you are. Yours, A Fellow Ravenclaw P.S What was it you brought into the common room Sunday night? It smelled immaculate.

Felix had barely stepped through the doorway when his gaze landed on the familiar fluffy tabby sprawled out across his bed. He started slightly, caught off guard by the sight of Milton, who shamelessly exposed his belly to the afternoon sun with one leg twitching lazily with each deep breath.

The tall Swede leaned back slightly and glanced over his shoulder, checking the corridor behind him for any sign of someone searching for their missing cat. But nothing. Just him. And Milton.

With a resigned sort of calm, Felix turned his attention back to the bed, eyes narrowing slightly as he spotted a soft pink glimmer peeking out from beneath one of Milton's back legs, barely visible beneath the fluff and fur.

The Ravenclaw exhaled quietly through his nose and approached with caution. "Excuse me," he murmured, barely above a whisper, as he crouched slowly beside the bed. He reached out, fingers brushing the edge of the envelope.

After a gentle tug, Felix waited, watching for any sign of disapproval from the cat, but the tabby continued his nap, unbothered.

With one final gentle pull, the letter came free, and Felix let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─☆: .☽ . :☆─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Dear Fellow Ravenclaw,

I wouldn't call your letters a waste, not in the slightest. In fact, I've missed them more than I probably should admit. Milton has taken great care to guard this one, though his methods remain a little unorthodox. Still, he seems to enjoy the sunspots on my bed, so who am I to complain?

You're right. I've never quite known what to do with compliments. I've always thought they were better given than received. But your words have never felt like too much. Just… unexpected. In the best way.

I'm not sure what face I made while reading your first letter, though I suspect I turned the colour of strawberry jam. Possibly redder.

As for Sunday night, that was cardamom buns and a slightly overambitious attempt at orange clafoutis. The buns turned out far better. I'll save you one next time, if you'd like. :)

Wishing you a lovely rest of the week,

Felix

P.S. I think Milton now believes he owns my blanket.

[ask-felix-aberg]

Ah, well, thank you. I do aim to please. :) If it's warm buns you're after, I might be able to help.

I most respectfully and humbly request you turn mi insides into a hot apple strudel.

I believe you are looking for @ask-felix-aberg. He is the resident baking enthusiast.

And his buns are superb.

[ask-felix-aberg]

"Hi there! <3

I decided to send you some gift from my shop, since I'll be opening up Wolf's Bane soon! I hope you'll have a good use of those things. Or maybe not? I think it'd be better not to use the healing stuff. Ignore that. Enjoy it!

Sending love,

Doris Hecat."

Doris' owl, Rosey, sets a small package with healing oils and herbs, other flowers, a dinosaur's figure, and other similar things by him.

Dear Doris,

I hope this letter finds you in wonderful spirits. And if not, well, then I’m very glad my new dinosaur friend and I will be here to keep each other company while you find your way back to better days. :)

Thank you so much for your thoughtful parcel. I still can't quite decide which is my favourite - the flowers, the herbs, or the tiny dinosaur. (Though, I must admit, he's claimed a spot on my desk already. I've named him Professor Wiggles.)

The herbs and oils have already found their place near my bedside, though I hope I won't need to use them too soon.

It's exciting to hear about Wolf's Bane! I'm certain it will be marvellous once it opens, and I look forward to visiting. Please do let me know when the door officially swings open.

Wishing you warmth, luck, and very good biscuits,

Felix

P.S. Please give Rosey a head scratch from me. She deserves it after carrying such precious cargo! :)