#12 days of christmas countdown awae

[seawolvesanddragons]

Anne With An E 12 Days of Christmas Countdown

1. Amortentia

(Note - this is a missing scene from a AWAE/Harry Potter au completed fic of mine on AO3)

“Amortentia,” Professor Allen intoned, “is one of the most difficult potions to brew. Even very few of my seventh year NEWT students manage to properly brew one successfully each year. Perhaps a blessing - we hardly need children mucking about with love potions.” 

There were a few scoffs at that from Anne’s classmates - though whether that was doubt that the seventh years were incapable, or at Allen calling them all children, Anne wasn’t sure. Ruby alone looked unaffected - though that could be because she was staring starry eyed at the potion. No matter how old they got, Ruby’s romantic nature never truly changed. 

“Today, since it is your first time learning about amortentia, we are beginning simply with observing it and examining the base ingredients. Next week you will be completing the potion’s from its final stage. If you manage to do it correctly, your potion should look like this,” Allen gestured to the wide cauldron in the center of the classroom. 

“I highly recommend you write this next part down,” Allen said and there was a scramble as several of the students dove for their quills. Anne and Diana, who had pulled their quills out at the start of class (Anne, in fact, had already begun writing notes) shared an amused glance. At the table next to them, Gilbert, quill also at the ready,  was shaking his head fondly at Jerry, who had nearly fallen off his stool. He caught Anne watching and shook his head at the Hufflepuff, in a “what can you do,” type of way. Anne grinned back. 

“Amortentia is easily recognizable by its pearly sheen and distinct vapor movement - see how it rises in spirals? Beware of a potion with these traits as much as you would be wary of one that looks almost like this - the only thing worse than a love potion made well is a love potion made poorly,” Allen warned. 

“Speaking from experience?” Josie muttered under her breath across from them. Anne bit down on her lip to keep from laughing. 

“The most interesting symptom of the potion is its smell,” Allen continued. “It’s different for everyone, as the potion replicates the scents that remind you of things you like. One might smell a favorite homemade treat, or location. Take a moment to reflect on what you smell. Write down everything you observe on the potion and hypothesize its ingredients - it should take at least six inches. Begin.” 

Allen’s lecture stopped abruptly, the potions master suddenly vanishing behind a stack of what Anne suspected were ungraded essays. 

For the next moment the classroom was filled with odd hissing noises as everyone kept taking dramatic breaths. 

“What do you smell?” Anne asked Diana, kicking her leg against the stool. She had already finished writing down everything she could observe. 

“Freshly cut roses, something...woody? Spicy?” Diana wrinkled her brow. “I can’t place it.” 

“The forest, maybe? Or the greenhouses?” Anne suggested. Diana shrugged. “Anything else?” 

“Broomstick polish,” Diana said, face falling slightly. Anne reached out and gripped her hand wordlessly. 

“I smell cinnamon, my mother’s perfume, and fresh ink,” Ruby chimed in, a besotted look on her face.

“What does Moody have to do with any of those?” Josie asked. Ruby blushed furiously. 

“What do you smell, Anne?” Ruby asked quickly, clearly hoping to move the situation along. 

“Marilla’s plum puffs, the smell of books, and,” Anne took another deep breath. “The forest.” 

“We match,” Jerry turned around. “I smelled Marilla’s plum puffs and the forest as well. Plus my broomstick polish.” 

Anne turned to Diana. “Diana, this is very serious. Professor Allen clearly brewed the potion wrong.” 

“Anne,” Diana shook her head, but Anne could see the corners of her mouth turn up. “It isn’t the end of the world to have similar interests as Jerry.” 

“At least he didn’t smell books as well,” Anne sighed dramatically. 

“Hey, that was one of Gilbert’s scents as well,” Jerry said happily. 

Gilbert started, only half paying attention to the conversation. “How did you know what? I never told you what I smelled.” 

“I can read it over your shoulder,” Jerry shrugged. “I was trying to see what you put down for the ingredients. You smelled books, Bash’s stew, and,” Jerry paused, turning his head to see better. “What’s that third one? An-” 

“You can copy my ingredient list,” Gilbert interrupted quickly, rolling up his scroll so only that section was open. “I don’t mind.” 

“You’re a saint,” Jerry grinned. 

“Gilbert, he’s never going to learn if you do it for him!” Anne scolded. “Honestly, why would you do such a thing?” 

Gilbert muttered something under his breath. Anne could only make out a few phrases - “self-preservation” and “win the family over.” 

Anne rolled her eyes. Honestly, Gilbert said the most nonsense things sometimes. 

***

(Potions, seventh year)

“You have the remaining double period to complete your amortentia potion,” Allen drawled. “Remember, if your potion starts turning any shade of green, back away and alert me immediately. Do not try to fix it yourselves.” He cast a quick look at Musa and Jerry, who had managed to blow up one cauldron and disintegrate another in the five weeks that Allen had partnered them up. Considering Musa was fairly adequate at potions and Jerry was brilliant at the herbology aspect, Anne wasn’t really sure what kept going wrong there. 

“Begin,” Allen said, and there was a flurry as the class started chopping and slicing. 

“Ready partner?” Gilbert grinned, nudging Anne’s elbow. 

“Mhm,” Anne nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The last few weeks of being potion partners with Gilbert had been bearable, if Anne had to pick a term. Any satisfaction of a well matched partner was instantly overtaken by the struggle of being in close proximity of Gilbert several times a week, which turned into fear she would let it affect her potion making. It never did, of course, which led right into satisfaction at a job well done, relief at having such a good potion partner, and then she was right back at the start of it all. 

Anne had weathered the course with maturity and positivity, in her opinion. But this? Brewing a love potion with Gilbert Blythe of all people? That was far too much. 

So began the longest two hours of Anne’s life. 

First, it was Gilbert’s hand brushing hers when he reached for the chopping knife. Then she was momentarily entranced with the way his curls fell into his eyes as he measured out ingredients. Worst was how solid he seemed next to her when they took turns stirring the potion, counting carefully, like he fit there somehow. 

Luckily for Anne, distraction came along in the last half hour to take her mind off of her predicament. 

They had brewed the potion wrong. 

“Are you sure we stirred it enough, Anne?” Gilbert asked, frowning. “Not that I doubt your potion brewing skills, but the smell is still off.” 

“I’m certain. But you’re right, we’re missing something,” Anne insisted. “Last time I could smell three things-” 

“Books, the forest, and plum puffs,” Gilbert nodded. “I remember. But you can’t smell them?” 

Anne paused, momentarily distracted. “You remember what I smelled?” 

“You and Jerry started arguing over it,” Gilbert shrugged. 

Anne decided the mature thing to do would be to ignore the funny feelings that were dancing around inside and move on. This was about learning. Her grade was on the line. 

“I can smell the plum puffs and the books, but the forest isn’t there - we must have messed up the measurement on something... ” Anne mused. “Are we sure we put enough wild pansy stems in there?” 

“We triple checked,” Gilbert shook his head frantically. “Do you smell anything else? Maybe there’s something that replaced the forest.” 

Anne wanted to argue that was simply impossible - she loved the forest, the home of some many adventures and wonders and friendships - but she stopped herself right in time. 

Gilbert wasn’t trying to be rude. He was just being logical, trying to think through why their potion would be wrong. 

“That’s...possible.” Anne allowed. “But I don’t smell anything else. Just books and plums. Nothing else. What about you?”

“The same issue,” Gilbert sighed. “Just the spices Bash uses and books. But if it isn’t the wild pansy’s-” Gilbert’s brow furrowed, deep in thought. “Let’s try-”

“Mr. Blythe, Miss Shirley-Cuthbert,” Allen interrupted, suddenly appearing beside them. “Step away from your cauldron please.” 

They obliged. Anne’s palms began to sweat as Allen peered over their amortentia. This was it - the end of her and Gilbert’s perfect streak. Perhaps they’d still get good marks, the sheen and consistency was right, after all, and the vapors were spiraling...

“Perfect,” Allen stated. “Again. Ten points each to Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Moving on - Miss Barry, Miss Gillis, your turn.” 

“I - how-” Anne whispered, glancing at Gilbert. “He didn’t notice?” 

“Guess we lucked out,” Gilbert said. “Thank Merlin. Though it’s going to bother me for ages, trying to figure out what we did wrong.”

“You and me both,” Anne said. “Come on, might as well begin cleaning up.”

Anne elected to put the leftover potion ingredients back in the cupboard while Gilbert scourgified their cutting knives. 

The cupboard was on the opposite side of the room, requiring Anne to pick her way carefully past both Diana and Ruby’s table as well as Cetus and Josie’s. The vapors from their cauldrons filled the air by the cupboard. 

At least one of them must have brewed their potion correctly - Anne caught a whiff of plum, the familiar scent of books - she inhaled deeply, wanting to linger on the scent. 

Wait - why had Gilbert followed her? 

Anne turned around, mouth already open to ask him, but he wasn’t there. Gilbert was still at their table, all the way on the other side of the classroom. 

So why had her brain thought he was right behind her? 

*

“That,” Jerry declared as he stormed out of potions, “was the worst one yet. Honestly, what was Allen thinking.” 

“It does bring a whole new level to the depths of denial,” Moody agreed. 

“I really thought this would be it,” Musa said. “They were brewing amortentia . How did it not come up?”

“They thought they brewed the potion wrong,” Diana said, still in disbelief. “They have a perfect streak in potions-”

“To all of our irritation,” Josie sniffed. 

“And each of them is aware of how they feel yet they still managed to think they brewed the potion wrong instead of it being an issue that they were already standing next to each other!” 

“I think I might hate them,” Cetus said solemnly. “Or Allen. I really, really do. Their fretting over a mistake that didn’t exist was so distracting I almost knocked over my cauldron.” 

“They thought they brewed the potion wrong, ” Diana repeated again. She looked close to tears. 

“Okay, let’s get Diana to the kitchens,” Ruby said gently. “I think she needs a nice cup of tea to calm down.” 

“Or something stronger,” Jerry muttered. 

“Jerry, no.” 

“I always knew it would be Anne that drove me to drink."

[seawolvesanddragons]

AWAE 12 Days of Christmas Countdown - Day 8

Marilla has knitted several things for various loved ones over the years. Now that they’re older, Anne and Jerry decide to try and return the favor. 

The first time Marilla finds herself knitting Anne a new hat she insists it's only because the current one is so shabby. It wouldn’t do for her new charge to be catching cold every time she had to leave the castle. 

And besides, she needed a new knitting project. Green Gables had plenty of blankets, it didn’t need any more. 

She was partially through the hat when she decided she might as well do a scarf to go along with it. For Anne’s health, of  course. Her current hat and scarf was more tatters than fabric, as apparently the orphanage didn’t place a high value on their children not freezing to death. 

(As a caretaker of multiple charges herself, Marilla found such oversight lazy and despicable.) 

She was almost done with the scarf, its matching hat lying neatly next to it, when Marilla noticed the colors. 

Out of habit, she had grabbed the yellow and black yarn. Understandable, as the Cuthberts were from a long line of Huffepuffs. 

Really, a scarf was a scarf and a hat was a hat. The purpose was to keep Anne warm in the winter, not boast her house for all to see. That was what the school uniforms were for. 

But Marilla had seen Jane Andrews own bronze colored hat and goves, and Diana Barry had been dressed in blue since she was a mere babe. Marilla remembered her own days at Hogwarts, were she and Rachel had enjoyed charming as much of their belongings as they could yellow and black in a fit of house pride. 

Anne already had such a hard time fitting in. Perhaps a show of house pride wouldn’t go amiss. 

Besides, Marilla might have some leftover blue and bronze yarn from when Rachel’s daughter was expecting and really it was only practical that she use it up. And while Marilla didn’t hold with vanity, yellow and black would clash with Anne’s  hair terribly.

Matthew raised an eyebrow at her that evening, when he saw her detangling the blue yarn. 

“Not a word Matthew Cuthbert,” Marilla warned. 

“I dinnae say anything,” her brother shrugged. “Just wondering what you’ll do with the other one now.” He gestured to the completed scarf and hat next to her, almost blending in with the family banket. 

Truthfully, Marilla hadn’t thought about that yet. The scarf and hat were too small for her or her brother to use, and all of the Lynde’s children (who for years had been the main recipients of Marilla’s knitting projects) were grown and gone. And it was hardly as if Twycross was going to put another child at Green Gables for Marilla and Matthew to have to adopt. 

Though, there was another eleven year old at Hogwarts whose winter wardrobe was solely lacking. 

“It can go to Jerry Baynard,” Marilla decided. “After all, waste not. Give it to him next time you take the both of them into the forest, Matthew. And do try not to make a fuss over it; we don’t want to embarrass the poor lad.” 

“Huh,” Matthew said, considering. “I don’t reckon I’m the one fussin’ over here.” 

Marilla pretended not to hear him. Honestly, brothers could be such a trial. She should point that out to Anne next time the girl waxes on about the enviable “bond between siblings.” 

*

Her next knitting project takes her most of the summer. Blankets normally did. And whatever Matthew might think, it was entirely practical. He had never been up in Ravenclaw tower, he had not a clue how drafty and cold it got up there! It would be just like three twelve year old girls to fall asleep with the windows open and wake up frozen the next day. 

No, Anne would need a blanket, a thick one. And Marilla needed more yarn anyway, she just happened to pick blue and bronze up. 

No, Matthew, she was not over mothering. 

Though, they did owe Jerry for helping them out over the summer. The Hufflepuff common rooms were far too warm to need an extra blanket (a point Marilla prided herself on) but perhaps a nice jumper wouldn't go amiss. 

*

By fourth year, Marilla had given up any pretenses. She was a mother, with one official charge and one unofficial charge whose hats and scarves were torn one too many times from unsupervised explorations of the forest. 

So a new set of gloves and hats and scarves were churned out, along with a special pair of gloves for each; ruby red for Anne, dark purple for Jerry. 

“For school, are they?” Matthew asked with a knowing smile. 

“They’re old enough now to require some gloves that aren’t based on their Hogwarts house colors,” Marilla sniffed. “A bit of individuality and color never hurt anyone.” 

*

Fifth year, Bash received a dark green scarf (so that you’ll stop complaining about the cold, Sebastian!) for Christmas, while Muriel was given a pair of hand knit lavender gloves. 

Phineas looked at Marilla suspiciously over his brand new navy hat. 

“You’ve gone soft,” he accused.

“Fiddlesticks,” Marilla huffed. “You sound like my brother. Utter nonsense.” 

*

Their last Christmas Morning as Hogwarts students, Anne and Jerry presented Marilla with a neatly wrapped package, eager smiles on their faces. 

Marilla pulled at the delicate twine holding the wrapping together (Anne’s work, no doubt). The paper fell away, leaving a multi-colored, heavy looking swarth of knitted wool in its place. 

“My word,” Marilla said, running her hands over fabric. It was softer than even her coziest of blankets. 

“Its a blanket!” Jerry explained excitedly. “Anne and I made it. Well, technically you made it too..”

“What Jerry means to say,” Anne interrupted, as Marilla looked confusedy between the two. “Is that the blanket is made from all of your old knitting gifts.” She pointed at the far edge of the blanket, where two yellow and black squares were offset by a blue an bronze one. “Those are from the first scarves you made us, plus an old one of Matthews. And there, that’s part of Jerry’s jumper, and over there is part of the baby blanket you made Mrs. Lynde when she had her first child-” 

“They went all over Hogsmeade,” Matthew said softly, a gentle look in his eyes as he nodded toward the blanket. “Collected up bits and pieces from just about everything you ever knitted.” 

“Well, I never,” Marilla said, blinking rapidly. There was moisture in her eyes that threatened to overflow. “What a thoughtful gift.” 

It was colorful, certainly, full of reds and blues, purples and golds, silver and greens and so much yellow Marilla wondered it didn’t hurt to look at. But the colors blended far better than Marilla would have guessed. It was a pattern of all the love and warmth and hope Marilla put out into the world, wrapped up into one gorgeous blanket. It felt like home. 

[seawolvesanddragons]

AWAE 12 Days of Christmas Countdown - Day Four

Day Four: The Sortings 

(All countdown stories are missing scenes/additions to my AWAE/HP au. In the story, we see Anne sorted into Ravenclaw, but not Gilbert, Josie, Diana, Ruby, Jerry or Cole’s own conversations with our favorite enigmatic hat.) 

(1981) 

“Blythe, Gilbert!” 

Gilbert held his head resolute as he walked up the steps toward the creaky stool. His back was towards the other students, but he could see the double glances from the professors and the whispers behind hands. 

He could only imagine what they were thinking when they saw him. The last Blythe - some of these professors had taught his oldest siblings when they had been at school. He remembered them from the funerals. A few had even taught his parents back when they were students. 

He looked up at Professor Allen as he approached the stool and saw a familiar look of pity in his eyes. 

Professor Allen was the head of Gryffindor house, where Gilbert’s father and oldest brother had been. The last thing Gilbert saw before the hat slipped over his head was the man’s kind, encouraging smile. 

Ah! A Blythe, a voice whispered in his mind. Always a surprise in store with a Blythe, I’ve come to learn. Let’s take a look inside your mind, shall we. 

Hmm...well you are your father’s son. Very noble heart indeed. Never one to turn your back on someone else. You could do well in Gryffindor. 

I’d like to be in Slytherin, please. 

Slytherin? The hat asked. Ravenclaw, I could see. You’ve got a sharp mind and a hunger for learning. A curiosity about the world that Rowena Ravenclaw would be proud of. 

Slytherin, Gilbert repeated, glancing toward the table full of green and silver. His father had a green and silver scarf in the hope chest at the end of bed. Gilbert had seen it once - wrapped around a portrait of his mother. 

Salazar Slytherin prized cunning and ambition in his students - a certain brand of ruthlessness and personal loyalty. 

I have an ambition for learning. 

A worthwhile attempt, young Blythe, but that is clearly a Ravenclaw trait. 

Gilbert crossed his arms. This might take longer than expected. 

Three minutes and forty five seconds later, the hat (who would be shaking its head if it had one) finally called out a house. 

“SLYTHERIN!”

*

“Pye, Josephine!” 

Josie tossed her hair over one shoulder as she flounced to the horrid old stool they were expected to sit on. She couldn’t believe this was the legendary magical sorting hat. It looked like something some muggle had left out in the rubbish. 

And that they were all expected to wear it! What if it messed up her hair? Or somehow she caught a disease? 

Josie made up her mind on the spot to share her precise thoughts on this procedure with the headmaster as soon as she got the chance-

“GRYFFINDOR!” 

Oh, perfect, the dusty old hat had hardly touched her head. At least she didn’t need to worry about that anymore. 

***

(1982) 

“Barry, Diana!” 

Diana approached the stool with perfect posture, making sure her legs were crossed as she settled on the seat. Mother would be proud of such grace. 

Oh you’re a polite little thing aren’t you? The hat chuckled in her ear. Well behaved, of course - but smart too. Much cleverer than you give yourself credit for. Quite logical. 

“Thank you,” Diana whispered politely. 

Ah but there’s passion there - just a little spark. Interesting. Buried under all those manners and expectations is a vast field of possibilities. 

Well there is really only one possibility for you now...yes, best be 

“RAVENCLAW!” 

*

“Baynard, Jerry!” 

Jerry had only considered calling it quits and running back home about ten times since he arrived in London that morning. It was only the knowledge that his parents had spent quite a bit of money on books and travel to get him here in the first place, and how excited (if a little scared) they were that him being a wizard gave him a chance for education, that kept him going forward. Now, as he felt the eyes of all these strangers on him, he felt the now familiar urge ro run take hold once more.  

Ah, a muggleborn hmm? 

Jerry would have screamed, but his mouth was too dry. The hat was now speaking in his head. Sure. It was singing before, so it speaking in his head wasn’t too different. 

I’ve seen ones like you before. A hard worker, not afraid of effort or hardship. And determined too...though it takes no small amount of courage to leave your family behind. 

Jerry wondered if the hat knew his secret. 

Never learned how to read? No matter. I already know just where to put you...

“HUFFLEPUFF!” 

*

“Gillis, Ruby!” 

Ruby let out a little squeak. She had watched as one by one her friends were sorted- first Jane, then Diana and Tillie - and now her turn had come at last. 

She nearly tripped over her foot as she hurried up the steps. From the Gryffindor table, Tillie gave her an encouraging wave. 

Her feet hovered off the ground as she sat on the stool, and the brim of the hat fell down to her shoulders. 

Well well, Miss Gillis. I’ve sorted several of you now, I think. You’re the last one? 

Ruby gave a tiny nod. Her three older sisters had all already graduated Hogwarts - Ruby had been what her grandmother liked to call a “blessed surprise” to the family. 

And not one to the same house it seems. Quite a strong opinion on chivalry, have we? You’ll do well in...

“GRYFFINDOR!” 

*

“MacKenzie, Cole.” 

Cole kept his head bent down as he shuffled toward the sorting hat. He almost dreaded whatever would happen next. He had listened to the hat’s song, but nowhere did it mention a house for quiet, solitary boys who’d rather draw than cast spells. 

What if the hat didn’t say anything at all? Would Cole be free to go home? 

An artist hmm? I can always tell. There’s something about your minds, the way you see things. This is one of the strongest I’ve seen in years. 

I....thank you? I think, Cole thought back. Well, at least a hat thought he was talented. Granted it was a hat, so what did it know? 

A hat that was forged by the founders themselves, thank you very much. It seemed miffed, if that were possible for a hat. I’ve seen more artists and masterpieces than you ever could in your short little lifespan. 

Right...sorry, Cole thought. Um. Could you sort me, please? 

Always in a hurry, the sorting hat said. Lets see what we have here....most artists end up in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, given the creative and hard work that goes into it...though Slytherin has produced their fair share as well. 

But you’re not just an artist, are you? You have a kind soul...and a strong sense of loyalty, to those you chose to give it to. And...ah. A dream to be different from what your family wants. To be you. 

I suspect your path may have many hardships, Mister MacKenzie. One as brave and strong to follow that path could only belong in one house. 

“GRYFFINDOR!” 

The hat was lifted from his head and Cole blinked at the sudden lights and noise that erupted. 

Merlin, was the hat such a downer with everyone? 

[seawolvesanddragons]

AWAE 12 Days of Christmas - Day Three

(All 12 posts will be missing scenes come from my Anne with an E Hogwarts AU fic.) 

Anne learns about Ravenclaw’s Diadem. Naturally, this calls from a quest. 

(Barry House - second year) 

“Diana,” Ruby asked, staring out the windows into the Barry’s garden. “What is your sister doing?” 

Diana and Anne looked up from the pie crust. Minnie May was holding a stone up to the sky, dramatically orating. 

“I HAVE CONQUERED DEATH!” 

“Oh, she’s just going through a phase,” Diana shrugged. “I’ve been reading the Tale of the Three Brothers to her - she’s obsessed with the resurrection stone.” 

“What’s a resurrection stone?” Anne said, curiosity peaked. “I’ve never heard of one.” 

“It’s not real, Anne,” Diana said. “The resurrection stone, the elder wand - these are just legends, like the Philosopher's stone or the diadem of Ravenclaw.” 

The rolling pin went clattering to the floor. 

“Ravenclaws had a diadem?!” 

*

“But Marilla, surely you must know something. You’re a head of house!” Anne pleaded. 

“Yes, of Hufflepuff!” Marilla said. “I never had much reason to think about some lost crown of Ravenclaw.”

“It’s called a diadem, Marilla, so much more romantic-”

“And even if I were head of Ravenclaw,” Marilla continued firmly. “I would have much more important things to do than worry about a long lost diadem that is probably not even real.”

Anne stilled, her eyes narrowing. “You said it probably isn’t real.” 

“Anne-”

“As in it might be real.” 

“Anne, for Boleyn’s sake-”

“I’m going to find it,” Anne decided. 

“Anne no - Anne get back here!” 

*

(Library, third year) 

“So according to Rowena’ Ravenclaw’s biography, Rowena Ravenclaw denied the diadem being stolen but it was never seen at least a decade before her death-” 

“I don’t care Anne.” 

“During which Ravenclaw resided at Hogwarts as a teacher. She rarely left the grounds, even for her ancestral home. Which means-”

“Anne, please, we’re trying to work-” 

“The diadem is mostly likely here at Hogwarts!” 

“Anne - wait what?” Jerry looked up from his herbology textbook. “I thought it didn’t exist?” 

“Just because something is lost doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist!” Anne said excitedly. 

“No, but it makes it far less likely to,” Cole pointed out. “I don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with the diadem anyway.” 

“It’s said to increase the wisdom of anyone who wears it,” Anne said. “Besides, it’s the mystery of it all! A lost relic, as valuable as any treasure, hidden away in the folds of time, somewhere in a magical castle...it’s positively thrilling!” 

“Do you really think you can find it?” Jerry asked, shoving the herbology text aside. “I mean, other people must have looked.”

“Diana said people searched for centuries after she died, but none of them ever got close. According to legend, Ravenclaw’s own final letter to Helga Hufflepuff supposedly held a clue, but it was never deciphered.” 

“Anne,” Cole said. “You know I know you’re brilliant. But if centuries of witches and wizards couldn’t supposedly break this code and find the diadem, what makes you think you can?” 

“Simple,” Anne said. “They were all thinking like wizards. But Rowena Ravenclaw was a half-blood. I think the key to all this is to approach it like a muggle.

“I’m in,” Jerry announced. “What?” Jerry asked when Cole shook his head. “I’m bored. And I love beating purebloods at their own game.” 

*

(Courtyard, 4th year) 

“Go over it again,” Diana said. “We’re missing something obvious, I can feel it.” 

“Indeed I have found, my dearest Helga, that the mantle of time hangs heavily around me, our own lights dimming as our students flare ever more brightly. Perhaps Godric was right, and our own age is coming to a close. All we can hope is that the legacy we have planted here blooms as a more prosperous, safer age for our people . Already wisdom lies with the seed.” Anne tapped the book. “After that it turns to discussion of Helga’s birthday. I suppose the code could be in that section.” 

“Let’s go one paragraph at a time,” Diana said. “That way we can keep track of what we know.” 

Half an hour later, they were still stuck. 

“Are you sure it isn’t a revealing charm?” 

“Witches and wizards would have already tried that,” Anne sighed, closing the book. She gazed at the cover. Correspondence of the Hogwarts Founders. The cover was illustrated with a portrait of the four founders together. Anne traced Rowena’s face with her thumb. She looked oddly familiar; Anne could have sworn she had seen her before. She just couldn’t remember where. It was infuriating. 

“What are your secrets?” Anne whispered. 

“Well, we learned one thing. Rowena Ravenclaw really liked metaphors,” Jerry said. “Fire, planting, seeds...she is a flowery as you Anne.” 

“Flowers...seeds....Jerry you’re a genius!” Anne declared. 

*

(Corridor, 5th year) 

“Cole,” Anne appeared out of nowhere, grabbing his arm. “You’ll never believe it. We think we found it!” 

“And by it you mean...” Cole raised an eyebrow. 

“The diadem!” 

“You’re still on about that?” Cole asked. “I thought you gave up years ago.” 

“Never,” Anne shook her head. “Come on, Diana and Jerry are meeting us by the old greenhouses. We’re about to make history!” She set off down the corridor, dragging Cole with her. 

“I already have a bad feeling about this.” 

(Marilla’s office, 5th year Later that evening.) 

“My bad feeling was totally correct, by the way,” Cole muttered to no one in particular. No one answered. Jerry, Anne and Diana were far more focused on the irate pacing form of Marilla. 

“You could have burned the entire structure down Anne, honestly what were you thinking...”

“I’m sorry Marilla, truly I am, but we had found Rowena’s old letters and-” 

“Of course,” Marilla’s nostrils flared. “I should have known. This is about that diadem isn’t it?” 

Anne nodded sheepishly. 

“And she dragged you three into this?” Marilla demanded of the rest of the group. 

“Literally,” Cole said. He felt no qualms about throwing the rest of them into the dragon’s path for this. He had just been trying to walk to dinner. 

Diana and Jerry just shrugged. “We volunteered.” 

“Merlin almighty,” Marilla closed her eyes briefly. 

[seawolvesanddragons]

AWAE 12 Days of Christmas - Day Two

(Again, these are all missing scenes from my ao3 Hogwarts AU fic, so everything is set in 1890s British wizarding world.)  Gilbert celebrates his 17th birthday. 

(Gilbert’s 17th; 5th year) 

Fifth year, Gilbert was quickly learning, was taken far more seriously by his professors than the previous four years. Every class was giving homework nightly, and Gilbert found himself having to work well after prefect rounds ended more than once. 

Between his schoolwork, prefect duties, and personal studies in healing, Gilbert found himself so busy he hardly noticed the time flying by, until he woke up one October morning and realized quite suddenly it was his seventeenth birthday. 

He wasn’t sure what awoke him so early that morning; the other Slytherin boys were fast asleep, ready for a lazy Sunday. Gilbert only lay in bed for a few minutes, his mind turning the date over and over again, fixating on it, before he threw on his clothes and left. 

Seventeen. He was of age now. He felt strangely young about it - how was it possible to be of age, and yet not even have sat his OWL exams? 

Maybe the muggles were on to something, having their age set to 21. 

(Or maybe he just feels the odd man out because all the other seventeen year olds had sat their OWLs...because they didn’t spend a year wandering around the world.) 

He wound up by the lake without really noticing where his feet were headed. 

Seventeen. He was officially a man in the eyes of the wizarding world. For most, this was a sign of independence - they could travel the world (which Gilbert had already done), make their own financial decisions (which Gilbert has done since he was 14) and even begin seriously courting. Of course, most important was being able to do magic outside of Hogwarts - which, admittedly, would have come in real handy during his previous world travel. 

Even the tradition of the silver watch was already completed. Gilbert’s father’s watch sat in a cabinet at home, tucked away until Gilbert was ready to wear it. 

(He didn’t think he was, yet. Maybe he would save it for graduation.) 

In a different life, Gilbert might have woken up today in a dorm full of other sixth years turning seventeen, mind flushed with opportunity. (Maybe he wouldn't even have been in Slytherin in that alternate universe. Maybe have agreed to go to Gryffindor, like his brother had, or Ravenclaw like his sister.) There might have been a small pile of presents and letters tucked against his bed from his siblings, a new watch from his parents at the very top. He could have felt like today was the start of a whole new chapter. 

He was an adult, and all Gilbert wanted was to be a child in his family’s arms again. 

Something pecked at him. 

“Ow!” Gilbert yanked his hand back reflexively. He swatted at the air, trying to find what stung him. 

The pecking continued. 

“Cut it - ouch!” 

Gilbert finally caught sight of it, buzzing around his knee. It was a tiny yellow hummingbird, so miniature it was hardly larger than Gilbert’s pinkie finger. 

“The hell -” Gilbert muttered. He held out his palm and the bird landed gently...before turning into a puff of golden sparks. All that was left was a tiny scroll. 

Blythe - I’m not being bothered to go around this whole ridiculous castle to find you. Come to my office.  - Bash

Typical Bash, Gilbert grinned. Even down to the beautiful, totally unique use of magic. Gilbert wished (not for the first time) that Bash had a book of Trinidadian magic the two of them could study. The differences between Bash’s magic (half of it self taught) and British magic was staggering. What Gilbert could learn from them...

Well that was a dream for another day. Now, Gilbert was being summoned. 

“Ok, Bash, I got your message...”

BANG

Giant bursts of green, silver, and gold sparkles burst around the office. 

“Happy seventeenth!!” Bash shouted, slinging an arm around Gilbert’s shoulders. 

“Ah,” Gilbert grinned, staggering under the sudden weight. “Hello to you too Bash.” 

“Drink up!” Bash pushed a cup into Gilbert’s hand.

“I haven’t even eaten yet,” Gilbert protested. 

“And normally, I would support you being smart about that,” Bash said. “But it’s your seventeenth birthday! We need to celebrate!” 

“Celebrate exactly?” Gilbert asked, amused. “Managing to survive another year?”

“I’ll drink to that,” Bash said. “I’m amazed you made it past 14 to be honest.” 

“We met when I was 14.” 

“Exactly,” Bash grinned. “Anyways, there’s plenty to celebrate. You’re of age now! You can vote, drink, cast spells...court a girl.” 

“Ah, there it is.” 

“Be a man! Only a boy can’t admit when he’s gone over a lady.” 

“I am a man,” Gilbert said. “Officially, in the eyes of the wizarding world. And to that, I will drink.” Gilbert knocked the goblet back...and instantly started coughing. 

“You can make a boy into a man, but he will always be a mook,” Bash shook his head. 

“Happy Birthday, Gilbert.” 

[seawolvesanddragons]

AWAE 12 Days of Christmas Countdown - Day Nine

Anne, Diana and Jerry compare muggle and wizarding Christmas songs 

History of Magic was, undeniably, the most boring class at Hogwarts. Even the most studious of children gave up paying attention sometime around second year, and around the holidays the chances that anyone was listening was slim to none. 

Which could, perhaps, excuse why Anne, Diana and Jerry were busy trying to come up with a wizarding version of “Twelve Days of Christmas,” a muggle song both Jerry and Anne knew by heart (and seemed to involve a lot of birds, to Diana’s confusion), instead of listening to Binns drone on about the Giant Wars. 

“Phoenix in a fig tree,’ is the obvious replacement, since the original is a partridge,” Anne said. 

“But ‘bowtruckle’ makes more sense!” Jerry argued. “Bowtruckles live in trees.” 

“Yes but we want alliteration, Jerry,” Anne said. “And bowtruckle doesn’t have the right kind of rhythm.” 

“So far we have five golden snitches, a phoenix in a fig tree, and twelve wizards dueling,” Diana read. “How about nine veela’s dancing?” 

“What’s a veela?” Jerry asked. 

“It's a french magical creature; she looks like a beautiful woman, until she turns angry. Then she becomes a harpy,” Diana said. 

“The wizarding world is weird,” Jerry muttered. 

By the end of the period, they had all but one line (six geese a laying) rewritten. 

“Next time we should do one centered on Hogwarts,” Anne said as she tapped the scroll. It rolled up and flew into her bag. 

“On the twelfth day of Christmas Hogwarts gave to me, twelve hexes on Billy,” Jerry sang underneath his breath. 

“That’s the spirit!” Anne grinned even as Diana hushed them, looking around to make sure Jane hadn’t heard. 

“I should teach you both some wizarding Christmas carols,” Diana said thoughtfully as they walked to lunch. “You would love ‘God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs...” 

Anne and Jerry swifty looked at each other, then back at Diana. 

“Ok first of all that was absolutely a muggle song first-” 

“That’s just blatant plagiarism right there-” 

“Wizards, can’t come up with anything original...”

[seawolvesanddragons]

AWAE 12 Days of Christmas Countdown - Day Seven

(All Countdown Works in this series are part of my AWAE Hogwarts AU on ao3)

Day Seven - Anne convinces her friends to do “Lady of Shalott.” More mermaids show up then are invited. 

“It was the closing of the day; she’d loose the chain and down she lay,” Diana read grandly, as next to her Jane, Ruby and Tillie all bowed their heads solemnly. “The broad stream bore her far away, the Lady of Shalott.” 

Further up on the lawn, Gilbert, Cole and Jerry watched the proceedings with increasing skepticism. 

With gusto, Tillie and Jane shoved the rickety rowboat Anne lay in, arms folded across her chest and eyes closed, off of the lakeshore. 

“Careful!” Ruby yelped. “Oh Merlin, maybe this was a bad idea. What if Anne drowns?” 

“She isn’t going to drown, Ruby,” Diana assured her. “The boat is stable. There isn’t even a tide.” 

“Plus, we’ve done much riskier things than this,” Tillie shrugged. “What’s the worst that can happen?” 

Behind her, Cole groaned. “Now you’ve jinxed it!” 

“Stop it Cole, you’re scaring Ruby,” Diana said. “Look, the boat is fine. Anne’s waving at us now.” 

Indeed, Anne’s hand was in the air, waving frantically. 

The girls waved back though Jane frowned. “I thought she was pretending to be dead?” 

“She should be,” Diana said, lowering her hand. “That’s a good point, Jane. So why is she waving?” 

“Better question,” Cole said, his voice odd. “Why is the lake waving back?” 

They followed where Cole was pointing. Indeed, there was a hand sticking out of the water, moving sharply toward where the boat was. 

“There’s another!” Tillie gasped, pointing to the far side. “And...it has a tail?” 

“Mermaids,” Jerry and Gilbert said at once, pale. 

Just then, Anne’s boat flipped over. They heard Anne scream, then her red hair vanished beneath the waves. 

“They’re going to drown her!” Ruby cried. 

“Don’t be hysterical Ruby, mermaids wouldn’t drown anyone,” Jane rolled her eyes. “They’ll just make Anne swim back.” 

“But Anne can hardly swim!” Diana said horrified. “Jerry!!” 

Jerry had already kicked off his shoes and was charging into the lake. Gilbert followed right after. 

After a few feet, the bottom of the lake dropped suddenly. Jerry ended up with a mouthful of lake water before he remembered the swimming lessons his brother had given him as a child. He probably did more splashing than swimming, but he was moving in the right direction. 

“Do you see Anne?” He asked Gilbert frantically. 

“Not since the boat flipped.”

Jerry dove. 

The lake was hard to see in. Jerry floundered for a moment in the dark, swinging his arms out for any hope of contact, before Gilbert appeared next to him, his wand lit up to illuminate the immediate area. 

Dark shapes writhed ahead. 

There, Jerry pointed, and the two boys raced in that direction. 

Sure enough, Anne was there, limbs thrashing as she tried to free her foot from a grindylow’s grasp. Jerry reached her first and pulled her arm hard, breaking it’s tight grasp. Then, with Gilbert on her other side, they made for the surface. 

Jerry thought his lungs might burst by the time they broke through the water. He gasped, taking in as much air as he could. 

Anne and Gilbert popped up beside him, Anne wiping wet strands out of her face. 

“Are you ok?” Jerry asked, grabbing her shoulder. “Are you hurt?” 

“I’m fine,” Anne gasped. Jerry checked just in case she was fibbing, but her face didn’t have any cuts or signs of damage. 

“Let’s get you to shore,” Gilbert said, looking at her with obvious concern. Chivalrous to the end. Later, when Jerry was dry and warm and had his breath back, he’d have to find a moment to tease Blythe about this. For now, he set one arm around Anne as they doggie-paddled back to shore. 

Marilla was already there, waiting for them. Jerry winced in sympathy. 

“Might have been nicer to let the grindylow get you,” he whispered to Anne. 

“If I die, you're in charge of taking care of Sir Hollyoake," Anne whispered back.

 “Wait,” Jerry said, grabbing at her before she walked away. “At least dry me off before Marilla murders you.” 

“Dry yourself off,” Anne muttered, even as she grabbed her wand from Diana and obliged. 

“Can’t believe I jumped into a lake for you,” Jerry shook his head. “Ungrateful.” 

[seawolvesanddragons]

AWAE 12 Days of Christmas Countdown - Day Six

(All fics/snippets are written as missing scenes from my AWAE/Hogwarts Universe fic on ao3)

Day Six - Viewpoint of everyone’s favorite most exasperated professor, as he deals with everyone else’s shenangians for seven years. 

(Year One)

“You seem to have a good group this year,” MacMillian said at the Halloween feast, gesturing at the group of Ravenclaw first years that were seated together.  “Got their heads screwed on straight, do they?”

“So it would appear,” Luewellyn agreed. “They’re solid students, at the very least, and moderately well behaved. Especially the young ladies.”

He had expected as much from Jane Andrews, given what a model student her sister was (and he was ever so grateful she didn’t take after her horrid brother) but Diana Barry seemed to take “well-behaved” to a whole other level. And while Musa and Cetus were much like other eleven year old boys at times, they had a genuine eagerness for learning that overcame any other bad habits. 

“Lucky you,” Allen muttered from Luewellyn’s other side. “I’ve had to give my Gryffindor first year boys detention twice already. And that MacKenzie boy would rather draw in all of his classes instead of take notes. He’s cost the house at least 50 points already from that alone.” 

“Is he any good?” Luewellyn asked, curious. Ravenclaw’s usually got the artists, though if this one liked to cause trouble perhaps it was better he was in Gryffindor.   

“Who knows,” Allen said, stuffing a large piece of pork pie into his mouth. “Never bothered to look. But he’s a child; it can’t be that good.” 

“Hmm,” Luewellyn said, barely able to hide the distaste in his tone at Allen’s attitude about it. From further down the table, he saw Marilla Cuthbert’s lips twitch. She never did miss a beat, that woman. 

“I don’t envy Gryffindor having to make up those points,” Luewellyn said. “Though, Ravenclaws never do cause any trouble it seems. We get the more studious types.” 

Privately, he thought it might be nice to get some more rambunctious students from time to time. Insert some passion and liveliness into the house, just to keep things interesting. He’d love to see Diana Barry and Jane Andrews actually smile, for once. 

Oh well. If someone that excitable did come along, they’d likely end up in Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. 

***

(Year Two)

“Mister Phillips,” Luewellyn said, heading directly to where the man sat in the staff room. “Care to explain why my house is suddenly missing fifty points?” 

“One of your students was causing a ruckus in the corridor,” Phillips said stiffly. “It was quite unbecoming behavior.” 

Right. Three guesses who said student was. “And this student would be...” 

“Miss Shirley,” Phillips said, scowling. “I don’t know how you deal with it Luewellyn, her carrying on all the time. I wouldn’t stand for it in my house.” 

“Well,” Luewellyn said coldly. “Fortunate for you, Miss Shirley-Cuthbert is not in your house, and on that note I ask that you leave any future discipline of Ravenclaws to me, their head of house.” 

“Of course,” Phillips said hastily. “Forgive my overstep, Phineas. Of course you’d rather punish the girl yourself.” 

“Hmm,” Luewellyn said, and swept from the room. 

He was passing by the Entrance Hall just do see a number of sapphires vanish from the Ravenclaw column. 

“Oh what now?” He threw his hands up. 

A group of third year Hufflepuffs were walking behind him.

“Did you hear? That crazy Ravenclaw girl hexed Billy Andrews again!” One of the boys told his friends excitedly.  “Gave him a pig nose and everything!!” 

Phineas sighed. 

***

(Year Three)

“Congrats on Ravencalaw’s quidditch win yesterday, Phineas,” Irving said at breakfast. “That Diana Barry is a spitfire on a broomstick, hmm? Who would have thought,” he chuckled. 

Phineas put his head in his hands. 

“Her family doesn’t know,” he muttered. 

“Pardon?” Irving gave him a puzzled look. 

“The Barry’s. There’s no way they know,” Phineas gave a deep sigh. Eliza Barry would rather wear hand me down robes than let her daughter set foot on a quidditch pitch. Which means she is hiding this from her parents and expecting it not to blow up in her face.” 

This was unfair. Phineas had come to expect this type of behavior from Anne, but Diana was meant to be the stable, level headed one.

She was not meant to sneak behind everyone’s back and join a quidditch team. WIthout informing her parents! What if she got injured? It would be Phineas’ job to tell her parents and then the blame would all land on him. 

Phineas temporarily abandoned all decorum and put his head down on the table. Maybe retirement could get him out of it. 

Irving awkwardly patted him on the shoulder. “There, there.” 

Phineas made a note to find Madam Cuthbert sometime that day. Otherwise she’d slip and tell Eliza and the Ravenclaw quidditch season would be over. 

***

(Year Four) 

“Ah, so you’re the head of Ravenclaw house,” Stacey Muriel said, shaking his hand enthusiastically. “It has been a pleasure teaching your students. They certainly are characters, aren’t they.” 

“That is...a way to describe them,” Phineas agreed. Charlie Sloan had blown up yet another  cauldron earlier that week, Prissy Andrews had jinxed the head boy (though no one could prove it) and Diana and Anne...well. Enough had been said about that pair. 

Not that he regretted any of them being in his house. He hadn’t bet against Phillips and Allen on the Blythe v Shirley-Cuthbert rivalry for nothing, after all. Anne was going to make him 50 sickles richer. 

“They have lovely things to say about you as well,” Phineas said, which was true. Some of his co-workers had their reservations about Madam Stacey’s hiring and later about her teaching, but Phineas put stock in student reviews. And the students raved about her. 

“Do you enjoy discussing wand theory?” Phineas asked Muriel. “Irving, the previous charms teacher, and I used to enjoy a good debate over a cup of tea in the afternoon.” 

“I would love too,” Muriel beamed. “May I bring Bash?” 

Phineas blinked. “Bash?” 

***

(Year Five) 

“Here,” Phineas said, dumping a bunch of extra quills, scrolls, and chalk into Bash’s desk. “The supplies you requested.” 

Bash blinked at him. “I didn’t request any supplies.” 

“No, you didn’t,” Phineas agreed. “Because you knew the bigot of a headmaster would just ignore it. So I ordered it for you. You can’t teach a class without basic supplies.” 

“I suppose not,” Bash said, smiling. “Thank you, Phineas. I appreciate it.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Phineas said. “I mean that. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Uh huh,” Bash said, amused. “Did you order anything for Muriel?” 

“No, Marilla took care of that. We figured if we divided and conquered then it looked less suspicious.” 

“Marilla doesn’t teach a class,” Bash pointed out. 

“You think our headmaster is smart enough to realize that?” 

***

(Year Six) 

Phineas wondered if it was time to seriously consider retirement. He had a good run. Over fifteen years as a Hogwarts Professor, that was a respectable streak. He could go out with a reputation of fair, unbroken and unbent professor and none would be the wiser. 

“It’s just a matter of educational fairness, sir, that we-” Anne continued valiantly. 

“Sure,” Phineas sighed, waving a hand. “I’ll give you permission.” 

“Really?” Musa gasped, delighted. “All of us?” 

“Yes, yes, all of the sixth year Ravenclaws, unfettered access to the restricted section,” Phineas said. “I’ll drop a note to Vance. Now, please, please, stop filibustering me every time you see me in the corridor.”

“Thank you sir!” Anne and Cetus beamed at him. “You won’t regret it,” Diana added. 

“I am almost positive that I will,” Phineas muttered as the group turned to leave. At the last moment he reached out and tapped Diana’s shoulder. 

“Is it true you have a little sister starting here next year?”

“Minnie May? Yes, she turns eleven in a few weeks.” 

Retirement was sounding like a smarter idea by the moment. 

***

(Year Seven) 

Phineas looked out at the graduating class of 1899 with a great deal amount of pride, and no small amount of sorrow at the idea they wouldn’t be back at Hogwarts next fall. 

He had taught some extraordinary students over the years, but this class without a doubt was exceptional. Each was a credit to themselves and to Hogwarts. 

He surveyed the group, all huddled together as they hugged and cheered in the thoroughs of uninhabited delight. He saw Josie Pye and Ruby Gillis giggling like little girls as they discussed boarding houses and their new jobs, an idea utterly unthinkable for them just seven years ago. Cole MacKenzie (who, Luewellyn has come to find, is indeed an incredible artist) held his head high and confident as Jerry Baynard jumped on his back, scuffling him into a headlock. Hard to believe these same young men had led a minor revolution only a month or so ago. Gilbert Blythe had let go of Anne (and thank Merlin that had finally happened) and was surrounded by the Lacroix family, letting baby Delphine play with his robes and looking happier than Phineas had seen since his very first year. 

And his Ravenclaws...Musa and Cetus were with Charlie, attempting to be sneaky as they set off fireworks and absolutely failing. (Though, Phineas did seem to be the only one to notice.) Jane was being fussed over by Prissy Andrews, her face absolutely lit up with joy at her sister’s praise. 

That just left Diana and Anne, who were hugging each other so tightly it was hard to tell whose arm was whose. Diana Barry, who had come to Ravenclaw mild-mannered and polite, the perfect little lady and so, so lonely. Now she was a top draft pick for the Holyhead Harpies, undoubtedly a quidditch star on the rise. And Anne - who came to Hogwarts wanting and hoping and lonely as well, who had taken one look at everything the wizarding world had to offer and not offer, and demanded better. 

If many of his previous students were stars, Anne might be a whole constellation, or an inferno, taking the world by storm. 

No self-respecting Professor would ever admit to having favorites, but in private, Phineas could admit that those two absolutely were. 

As the students were slowly ushered toward the lake, Phineas found himself joined by Bash, Muriel, Matthew and Marilla on the lawn. 

“Strange to think we won’t have them back in September, isn’t it,” Muriel said quietly, inclining her head. 

“Safe to say they left an impression,” Bash chuckled. “I wonder how next year’s seventh years will measure up.” 

“Hopefully not quite as interesting,” Phineas shook his head. “I’m hoping Ravenclaw can go back to its usual type of quiet, less exciting students.” 

“They’re a tough group to live up to,” Muriel agreed. “We might not see anyone quite like them again.”

“Until their kids go here,” Bash piped up. Phineas froze. 

“Oh, they’re hardly more than children themselves, Bash,” Marilla tutted, because the woman was absolutely in denial that Jerry and Anne were adults now, and Phineas could prove it. “That won’t be for a while yet.” 

Phineas considered the idea. Children. Of this bunch. Sweet Merlin, the offspring of Blythe and Anne alone....

“Any offspring have to go straight into Hufflepuff,” he told Marilla. “No debate.” 

“You must be out of your god-given mind,” Marilla said. “Absolutely not.” 

“They were all practically your children, take some responsibility,” Phineas hissed. “What happened to Hufflepuff’s ‘taking the lot’, hmm?” 

“Are you ever glad that you aren’t a head of house?” Bash asked Muriel loudly. 

“Oh everyday,” Muriel said. “Couldn’t imagine all that extra responsibility. Very tiring.” 

“The day Anne and Gilbert’s child winds up anywhere but Ravenclaw is a day the stars fall, Phineas,” Marilla sniffed. “Deal with it.” 

“I won’t. I can’t. I just survived seven years of this, I don’t deserve more. I will bribe the sorting hat if I have too.” 

“Phineas!” 

[seawolvesanddragons]

AWAE 12 Days of Christmas Countdown - Day Five

(All countdown snippets/fics based on the AWAE/HP universe fic I have on AO3.) 

Day Five: The Ravenclaws. 

“You know, I find it extremely unfair that Ravenclaw’s have to answer a riddle in order to get into our tower,” Cetus grumbled, throwing himself down into one of the empty armchairs. “It’s unjust! Do Gryffindors have to perform an act of valor in order to enter their common room? Do Sytherins have to outwit or bribe someone? Do Hufflepuffs pass some test? No. They all get to just waltz in whenever!”

“You messed up the answer and the Eagle made fun of you again, didn’t it?” Anne said, not skipping a beat in her potions homework. 

“Maybe,” Cetus said. “But my point still stands!” 

“It’s true that all the other houses are much easier to access,” Diana said, putting her quill down. “Don’t Gryffindor and Slytherin just have a password?” 

“That seems insecure,” Musa said. “Just anyone could learn that password and walk into their common room.” 

“Musa, our security is an eagle knocker who lets in anyone who can answer a simple riddle,” Cetus said. “Now that I think about it, it’s a wonder that we haven’t had more people break in.” 

“You didn’t manage to get in just now,” Jane said. “That implies at least some level of security.” 

“It can be a pain late at night or when you’re in a rush,” Diana said quickly, before Cetus or Jane could start a fight. “Merlin, remember that time we were all coming back from Astronomy at 2am and none of us could figure out the riddle?” 

“It took us over an hour before the caretaker finally heard us pounding,” Musa shook his head. “And then the answer all along was the lunar cycle. I nearly punched the door.” 

“See, this is what I’m talking about!” Cetus said. “None of the other houses deal with this. It’s outrageous.” 

“Anne, what does Hufflepuff have?” Diana asked. 

“They have a special knock,” Anne said. “I saw Jerry use it once.” 

“Cetus has a good point though,” Jane said. “There’s nothing stopping a non-Ravenclaw from coming along and managing to answer the riddle. So why haven’t there been more break-ins?” 

“We are at the top of a very tall tower,” Anne pointed out. “Not to mention removed from any of the classrooms or other heavily frequented parts of the castle.” 

“So stairs are our real security,” Musa snorted. “Ten points to Ravenclaw.” 

*

“Ok,” Iris said to the newly sorted Ravenclaw first years. “First of all, welcome to Ravenclaw. We pride ourselves on curiosity and seeking out knowledge, both traditional and mystic. As your seventh year prefect, you can come to me with any questions. But first, I’d like to go over with you a few guidelines for being in Ravenclaw. 

“First, by now you should have heard about the house cup. We’re competing against the other houses to see who can earn the most points. As Ravenclaws, we tend to gain the most points in the classroom, so don’t be afraid to speak up when your professors ask.” 

“What you’re wrong?” 

“Then you’re wrong,” Iris shrugged. “There’s no shame in that. And then, you’ve learned that you were wrong, and can take the opportunity to find out the true answer.” 

“Also, as Ravenclaws, we have access to our own special library, behind Rowena Ravenclaw’s bust. Rule number one, don’t tell anyone else from the other houses about this library. Rule number two - 

“DUCK!” Cetus hollered, and Iris didn’t even blink before she raised her wand and cast a shield over the group. A dozen heavy books soared through the air above them, skidding to a stop above a round table in the corner, where they floated down neatly into stacks. 

“Rule number two,” Iris repeated. “Be wary of flying books, quills, and parchment. Ravenclaws have a thirst for knowledge, and sometimes they don’t like to wait.” 

“Rule number three. Do you see that group over there?” Iris pointed to where all the sixth years sat with their newly delivered books; Anne, Diana, Jane, Musa and Cetus pouring over them. “If you see them getting up to anything out in the castle, walk away.” 

*

“I just...I woke up and she was gone,” Jane sobbed, wiping at her eyes. “I’ve looked everywhere - our dorm, the whole common room...she isn’t anywhere!” 

“Shh, shh, it will be okay,” Diana soothed, rubbing Jane’s back. “Sometimes cats like to wander away for a few days, Jane. She’ll turn up.” 

“I told all the house elves to be on the lookout for her,” Anne added. “We’ll find her in no time.”

Musa, Charlie and Cetus fumbled with a large scroll, spreading it out on the floor in front of them. 

“Okay,” Musa said seriously. “Charlie, Cetus and I managed to make a map of all the places Nimueh might have gotten too.” 

Diana and Anne looked down at the map, then back at the three boys. 

“Musa, this is a map of all of Britain,” Diana said. “Yeah, that’s all we could narrow it down too,” Cetus shrugged. “We have no idea where the cat went.” 

Jane started sobbing again. Diana glared at the three of them as she hugged Jane close. 

“Boys,” Anne muttered. 

*

“Hello Musa, Cetus,” Gilbert greeted, pausing by their table in the library. “Are you two working on the charms essay?” 

“We are, and likely will be until we graduate,” Cetus said. “This is impossible.” 

“Mind if I join you?” Gilbert asked. “I need to get it done as well. Maybe we can help each other.” 

Musa and Cetus gave him a scrutinizing look, than glanced at each other, than back at Gilbert. 

“Give us a moment,” Musa said. The two of them huddled together and whispered furiously. Gilbert leaned closer, trying to hear better, but only caught a few snatches. 

“Friendly.....give up points....house loyalty....hex us if we’re caught...”

“Ok,” Cetus said, as the two separated. “We’re going to be honest here, Blythe.” 

“I welcome it,” Gilbert said. The conversation was definitely getting weird. 

“We’re Ravenclaws,” Musa said. 

“...Yes,” Gilbert nodded. 

“Which means Anne is our housemate,” Cetus went on. “Our comrade in arms.” 

“Ah.” Gilbert had a good idea where this was going now. 

“Which means our loyalty is to her first,” Musa folded his arms. 

“Especially with her rival,” Cetus added. 

“For Merlin’s sake,” Gilbert said. “We’re not rivals!” 

“That’s not what Anne said,” Musa frowned. “Are you calling her a liar?” 

“What? No!” 

“Then we’re agreed. Your rivals. For top scholar, or whatever,” Cetus nodded. “Which is a bit weird, even for us Ravenclaws, but no matter. We’re all invested in this now, and we want a Ravenclaw victory.” 

“However,” Musa cut in. “Given that charms is Anne’s best subject.” 

“She’s amazing at it,” Gilbert said earnestly. Musa and Cetus rolled their eyes. 

“Given that charms is Anne’s best subject-”

“And we really, really need help on this essay-” 

“Assuming you don’t somehow use this to sabotage Anne in your competition-”

“Or try to get insider information on her-

“We’d be happy to let you join us.” 

“Well...great,” Gilbert said, sitting down. He shared his own notes and outlines for his essay, and for the next quarter of an hour all you could hear was charms theory and quill scratching. 

“So,” Gilbert said, once it had been quiet for a few minutes. “Did Anne, Diana and Jane already finish this essay?” 

“Unbelievable,” Cetus threw his quill down. 

“The disrespect,” Musa shook his head. “Just how gullible do you think we are?” 

“We were very clear, no insider information on Anne!” 

*

“Guys,” Jane ran up, breathing hard. “Allen...on his way...looking for Charlie and Musa...” 

“Oh Merlin,” Musa said. “He must have found out we were the ones who accidentally blew up the spare ingredients cupboard.” 

“How-” Anne started to ask. 

“We were testing out a new spell Musa invented,” Charlie explained. “Allen is going to murder us.” 

“Go, go,” Diana urged. “Out the library back door, we’ll stall for you.” 

Musa and Charlie booked it. 

No more than five minutes passed before Professor Allen came storming into the library. His gaze landed on the sixth year ravenclaws huddled in the corner. 

“Where are they?” He snapped, swooping down on them. 

“Who, sir?” Diana asked innocently. 

“Sloan and Nazarian!” Allen snapped. “I saw them coming this way. They owe me a new potions cupboard. Tell me where they are, now.” 

“Sir, I’m sorry but I have no idea what you are talking about,” Cetus said. “Musa and Charlie have been in the dorms since yesterday afternoon. They’re both sick - they ingested some bubutober pollen in herbology yesterday.” 

Allen narrowed his eyes. “I know it was them, Mister Thorne. I have evidence!” 

“Sir, really, Cetus is telling the truth,” Anne insisted, and Jane nodded, doing an impressive job of hiding the fact that she had just run through an entire castle. 

Allen gave Anne a suspicious look. 

“Miss Barry,” Allen said, turning to Diana. “You’re a trustworthy, responsible young lady.” 

“Rude,” Jane muttered. 

“I am literally a prefect,” Anne huffed. 

“I know that you would never lie to a professor. So, please tell me: where are Nazarian and Sloan?” 

“But Cetus just said, Professor,” Diana said, confused. “They’re in Ravenclaw tower. Ever since our herbology class yesterday. It was a really unfortunate accident,” Diana shuddered delicately. “Professor Luewellyn said they might have to go to the hospital if they don’t get any better.” 

Allen blinked, clearly confused. “But - I could have sworn-” 

“Is there anything else we can do for you professor?” Diana asked. 

“No...no...” Allen said, frowning. “Did...anyone else run in here recently? Older students...perhaps it was Baynard and MacKenzie...”

“It’s just been us Professor,” Diana said, and Cetus, Anne and Jane made noises of agreement. 

“Right. Well.” Allen straightened up. “I will see you in class.” He swept out of the library and the group let out a collective sigh of relief. 

“I am going to murder those two,” Jane muttered. 

“You’re that angry they blew up the potions cupboard?”

“What? No,” Jane waved a hand. “Between you four, I’m used to such things sadly. No, I’m mad they nearly got caught.”