#A Fifth Year's Guide to Hogwarts Chaos | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pulaasul · 3 years

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Ode of the Future

During the Champion selection ceremony, lightning struck the Goblet of Fire and released a fifth piece of parchment. On the parchment was a note saying that everyone listed should gather and warn everyone.

Once everyone listed was gathered, a scroll was ejected from the magical object, and it contained an ode.

An ode for the people who died during the Wizarding Wars against Voldemort.

[FFN] [Ao3]

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A/N: In honor of the battle of Hogwarts, which happened on this day in the year 1992, here's a reaction fic where' the character react to specific odes dedicated to the characters who died during the Wizarding War against Voldemort.

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The Hogwarts student body was in chaos. Murmurs, complaints, and protests erupted as soon as the fourth piece of parchment containing the name of the fourth contestant for the Triwizard Tournament was ejected from the Goblet of Fire.

The fourth piece of parchment contained Harry Potter's name, to the surprise of many in the room.

Harry felt that had anyone else's name came out as the fourth contestant, the complaints and protests wouldn't be this prominent. He had half the mind to protest his inclusion and stand in his place rooted.

But he trusted Headmaster Dumbledore so he opted to follow the old headmaster's order and went to the room where the other champions were sent.

"What a prat." Ron bitterly stated.

"Ronald!"

"He told me that he wasn't going to enter!" Ron justified his words. "Then what do you know, Harry actually entered the tournament with all of us ignorant."

"Honestly Ronald, Harry couldn't have gotten past the age line!" Hermoine huffed. "Even your brothers couldn't get past that."

"He's Harry bloody Potter, of course, he can get past some bloody age line." Ron scoffed.

"You know, I think Hermoine has a point." Seamus offered.

"How so?" Dean questioned. "I mean considering Harry's luck, I won't be surprised."

"Tell me, how is Harry in charms? Only Hermoine can get a spell on the first try," Seamus shrugged. "There's no way Harry can pull something off in a span of a month, even if he did found a way to get past an age line."

"Harry didn't put his name, right Colin?" Dennis whispered to his brother.

"I'm sure Harry could probably pull it off." Colin nodded. "But I don't think he did it, I think he was just as shocked as we are."

Before the arguments and conversations could continue, lightning struck the Goblet of Fire, shocking everyone in the room.

Suddenly, lightning struck the Goblet of fire followed soon after by the roaring of thunder which prompted the screams of terror from the people present. The teachers present were hard at work in assuring and calming the students down. Some of the teachers even readied their wands and cast shield charms over the tables to protect the children.

Dumbledore raised his right hand and silenced the room.

"I assure everyone that the lightning strike we just witnessed won't harm anyone present."

The student body relatively quieted down with the Headmaster's assurance. The teachers and staff were still quite tense, as lightning had never struck the Great Hall from the enchanted ceiling before.

The other Headmasters on the other hand were on guard, their faces showed displeasure at the recent turn of events.

Dumbledore was about to speak when the fire from the goblet turned white and ejected another long piece of parchment.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, if I timed this right, I was able to send this letter back in time through the Goblet of Fire." Hogwarts's Headmaster read. "If your intentions really are for the greater good, I implore you to gather everyone present and send them to the seventh floor and go inside the come and go room."

"Headmaster Dumbly-dor what is the meaning of this?!" Headmistress Maxime seethed. "Has Hogwarts's gotten so low as to cheat not once but twice?"

"I must agree Dumbledore." Headmaster Karkaroff growled. "Are you so desperate to win this tournament that you would blatantly cheat right from the start?"

"Had I read their characters correctly, Headmistress Maxime and Headmaster Karkaroff are yelling about how Hogwarts's cheated the Triwizard tournament, with Potter's name getting ejected out of the Goblet of Fire moments earlier." Dumbledore ignored his fellow school heads and continued reading the parchment he was holding.

The continuation of the spiel stopped Durmstrang's and Beaubaxton's school heads from their rants. They did not expect for their names to be called out from the Parchment at all.

Karkaroff huffed and grabbed the parchment out of Dumbledore's hands and saw for himself the words that were written. He was in utter disbelief.

Maxime gently grabbed the letter out from Karkaroff's hands and she too mirrored Durmstrang's Headmaster's reaction. She was flabbergasted as she read through the letter.

Headmistress Maxime couldn't hold unto the piece of parchment and immediately gave it to someone near her, Professor Mcgonagall.

"In a few minutes, a piece or two of parchment will be ejected from the Goblet of Fire before it extinguishes itself. Please gather everyone present and the people I've listed below to the Seventh floor of Hogwarts's castle.

Ask the House Elves regarding the Come and Go room." Professor Mcgonagall read the last paragraph.

"Who's it from?" Professor Sprout questioned.

"No one." The Deputy Headmistress answered. "The signature is simply a drawing of a lightning bolt."

"Weasleys!" Professor Snape growled. "What is the meaning of this?!"

"We didn't have anything to do with that!" Fred and George denied the accusation in unison.

"Likely story." Professor Snape scoffed. "100 points from Gryffindor!"

"Oh c'mon!" All the Gryffindor students groaned at the declaration.

"I believe a retraction is in order Professor Snape." Dumbledore shook his head. "I don't think this is a prank, we've all witnessed how they failed to get past my age line."

"Headmaster, surely Potter has found a way to circumvent that and put the Weasleys up for this to distract everyone else from his blatant disrespect of the rules."

Hogwarts's headmaster shook his head. "I award 100 points back to Gryffindor." He declared. "Professors Sprout and Flitwick, please guide everyone to the seventh floor, Professor Mcgonagall please collect the people listed on the parchment by House-elf."

"Are you sure Albus?" Professor Mcgonagall questioned.

The Headmaster merely nodded in response.

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Everyone stared at the door in awe as it appeared before their very eyes. They were amazed that the castle itself has shown a level of sentience to provide everyone a room that fit their needs.

The come and go room, as the letter has dubbed it, showed everyone a replica of the Great Hall with banners from the ceiling that reflect all four houses and the two guest schools.

"I've never read of this room in Hogwarts; a history." Hermione remarked.

The room has even provided a small partition of the room to be used as a loo for everyone to use.

As if on cue, once everyone was seated, the fire from the goblet turned white and ejected a scroll before it died out, darkening the surroundings.

A moment later, lit candles appeared up on the ceiling, lighting the room.

Dumbledore retrieved the scroll and opened it.

"Voldemort will return." Dumbledore read.

The room descended to chaos as soon as the headmaster uttered the words from the scroll. Some panicked, some were even shouting.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Karkaroff growled. "Is this your idea of a joke Dumbledore?!"

"You-know-who is dead! Potter killed him!" Shouted one Ravenclaw student.

"Silence!" Professor Mcgonagall called out.

Everyone fell silent at the shout.

"At the end of the Triwizard Tournament, the Dark Lord will return. The Dark Mark that appeared during the Quidditch World Cup was a precursor for his return.

With Voldemort's return comes the Second Wizarding War in Britain and with war come casualties, young and old, man or woman, pureblood, half-blood, muggle-born or muggle.

Below is an ode to some of the people we have lost since Voldemort's return, or in your case, will die. I have sent these letters back in time using the remaining time turners the Department of Mysteries had and putting them inside the Goblet of Fire.

I hope you never experience the losses we incurred."

Murmurs erupted from the crowd, no one knew what to expect. The night has been one surprise after another, first with Potter's inclusion in the tournament through deceitful means, next was the fifth parchment flying out of the goblet and now the scroll the was ejected out of the goblet.

Some of the adults and students even looked at Harry as the boy himself tried to duck from the stares he was receiving.

"Before I begin, yes the new arrivals were specially listed on the letter earlier, make yourselves at home, this was once your school after all." Dumbledore declared. "Everyone is free to sit wherever they like, even alongside our new guests."

With that announcement, everyone sat wherever they liked. Hermoine and Harry went with Ron who sat with the Weasleys. Percy was with Bagman and Crouch, refusing to sit with his family, thinking that this was part of his duty.

Remus and a dog sat next to Harry.

Cedric went ahead and sat with his parents while Susan sat with her aunt.

As soon as everyone was settled, Dumbledore opened the scroll once more. He almost reacted as soon as he saw the first two names mentioned in the ode. He looked at the students specified with regret, two innocent lives would be lost in the coming war.

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Ode to the Departed.

Colin Creevey was a young wizard, Who trained at Hogwarts. He was an excited fellow, Exuberance you cannot mellow. Magic brought him joy, Even more than a toy. When his home away from home was attacked, He left the comforts of his family and came back. He took the risks that returning entailed, It didn't matter if he failed. As long as his training was repaid. Even if he became pale. His debt to his hero was paid.

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Everyone gasped and looked at Colin as soon as they heard his name. Someone so young would die during the war. No one could fathom the unfairness of the world.

Colin himself paled as soon as he heard his name. He couldn't understand why his name was on the scroll. He didn't know what to do with the situation presented before him. He only came back to reality when he noticed his younger brother's grip on him, so tight as if not wanting to let go.

The elder Creevey offered Dennis a reassuring smile.

"I won't go anywhere Dennis, I promise."

"B-but."

"It hasn't happened yet," Colin offered. "We can still change things right?"

Colin's words to his brother were things he'd like to believe himself as earlier in the school year, the Divination's Professor had also predicted his death. He had simply shoved that particular prediction when Professor Sprout assured them of Professor Trelawney's propensity for predicting student deaths which were always wrong.

Which wasn't so wrong after all.

Harry gulped, guilt gnawed his very being as he listened to Dumbledore's words. He knew Colin, and his brother idolized him for being the 'boy-who-lived'. He had dismissed the Creeveys for being no more than fanboys.

He didn't realize that their affection was more than about their fascination with his supposed tales but rather in fascination about everything about him.

He could distinctly remember that Colin was only one of the few who believed that he wasn't the heir of Slytherin. He also remembered that Colin almost died when he tried to visit him in the hospital wing after the Basilisk was roaming the school.

Molly's grip on her youngest children seemed to tighten as soon as she figured out who Colin Creevey was. She remembered from her daughter's letters that he was in her year, which could mean that Ginny's name could be among the names dedicated by the ode.

One of her cubs, Professor Mcgonagall resisted the urge to gather the Creeveys in her protective embrace. She bemoaned the unfairness of it all, why one of her cubs, why one so young.

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Cedric Diggory was a Hufflepuff, The glory he sought was rough. It wasn't for self-satisfaction, Rather, it was for his faction. To dispel the nasty names that took root, As loyalty was his boot. The glory he sought was in his hands, But a traitorous rat had other plans. To Dumbledore's army that didn't matter He was an inspiration for others, His path may have strayed to the Dark Lord's But as a Hufflepuff, he never left Harry alone.

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"Not my boy!" Amos yelled gripping Cedric's arm as soon as his son's name was called.

Amos's yell interrupted Dumbledore from reading the ode.

The Headmaster completely understood why Amos shouted. It wasn't as if something replaceable was lost, his son would die young in the future and from how the ode was worded, it would seem that the young Diggory's life would end as soon as the Triwizard Tournament would be concluded.

Everyone gasped as soon as Dumbledore finished the ode dedicated to Cedric. There were many implications but nothing was as horrifying as the implication that the young Diggory's death would come at the end of the current school year.

Cedric's mother certainly mirrored her husband's reaction earlier and embraced her son as tight as she could once Dumbledore finished reading. She couldn't bear the thought of outliving her son, let alone him dying at the end of the school year.

Cedric himself paled at the implications. He knew it was too late to back out of the tournament. He isn't about to stop competing in the tournament even if he knew that he was going to win, or even die as soon as he won, that'd only prove the stereotype against his house true.

Instead, he would work twice, no, four-time as hard as before in training for the tournament. He needed to hone his senses. The ode implied that the way he was killed wasn't in any official dueling capacity, which means it was either an unexpected attack or he was just naïve enough to start talking before defending.

Before that, Cedric looked at his grief-stricken parents and he knew just what to do.

"Mum, Dad," Cedric whispered. "I know it's scary but it's not set in stone right?" He whispered.

"Y-you're my boy." Amos stuttered. "I don't think I'd know what to do if… if we…"

"You're father's right Ceddie." Cedric's mother nodded. "No parent should bury their children." She dabbed her eyes.

"I promise to be careful." Cedric offered.

"No my boy, promise to live." Amos whimpered. "Please."

Cedric flinched at the correction his father made. He knew he can't make a promise like that considering what the ode stated, there was a high probability of his demise whether anyone would interfere or not. It happened once in another time, it could still happen again despite the interventions.

He wasn't naïve to think otherwise.

"Please Cedric." Cedric's mother begged.

"I…" Cedric trailed off. "I don't think I can promise that mum." He hugged his mother.

Harry's guilt increased as soon as he heard his name uttered. It would seem that he would be present when Cedric died. Scenarios flashed through his mind thinking of how Cedric could have possibly died with him present, none were pleasant than the other.

The Weasleys looked at the Diggorys in sympathy. The Diggorys were their neighbors and they couldn't imagine what sort of pain they were going through especially with the implications.

Arthur and Molly certainly understood what the Diggory parents were feeling. The fear of outliving your own child.

The dog with Remus growled as soon once the words 'traitorous rat' was uttered while Remus narrowed his eyes.

Remus knew who was being referred to as the rat, and knowing that the traitor he knew would also be responsible in snuffing out a life so young, He wished that he and Sirius hadn't just followed Harry's nobility and committed murder then and there.

If only so Cedric's death could have been prevented.

The Hufflepuffs were in disbelief of what they were just told. Cedric dies?

Hufflepuff's golden boy dies?

There must be some kind of mistake.

Cedric was the best among the Hufflepuff students, even amongst the Seventh years, a dueling prodigy and great at transfigurations.

How could he die?

Some of Cedric's friends approached the boy and sat near him as if forming a protective circle around him. Most of the Hufflepuff students had this urge to be near their Golden Boy and protect him.

"Come now you blokes." Cedric offered a strained smile. "It's not set in stone right?"

"Right you are." Tonks agreed. "Wotcher Ced." She smiled at the boy before sitting beside the boy.

Tonks wore a grim expression as Cedric's name was called. She had known the boy since he was first sorted into Hufflepuff house, and even moreso when he joined the Circle of Khanna. She hoped that she was wrong but she feared that Cedric would follow in Rowan Khanna's footsteps, considering how the Diggory boy's death was used as an inspiration to form a group akin to how the circle was formed, using Khanna's death as motivation.

"Hello, Tonks." Cedric greeted.

"If you want, I could arrange some training for you to prevent this from ever happening." Tonks offered. "Can't have Golden Boy himself ducking out of life so early right?" She offered a hollow chuckle.

"Sure." Cedric nodded.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Tonks and Moody yelled at the same time.

Everyone was startled when Tonks and Moody shouted, caught off guard with the action done.

"Seriously Moody?" Andromeda hissed. "You have made my daughter as paranoid as you?"

"You should be thankful for that Black." Moody countered. "Constant Vigilance is probably the only thing that's keeping me alive."

"I go by Tonks now, thank you very much." Andromeda huffed. "They disowned me remember?"

"Ignoring the old people." Tonks chuckled. "That's lesson number one, exercise constant vigilance, it will save you in the long run."

Professor Sprout adorned a sad smile as she observed how her badgers were reacting. They were surrounding their own as if protecting him from anyone who would dare harm, Cedric. There was also how Tonks reacted, she may have been a bit of a rebel and an epitome of misbehavior, she couldn't deny that she grew up someone to be proud of, a true Hufflepuff to the core.

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Prankster, Jokester, Charming are some things to describe, This particular bloke, those who knew him subscribe. Fred Weasley was one of a kind, Even if he did things with his twin by his side. His last action however wasn't with his twin, But with his estranged brother, they took a win, The price of victory however Would take root forever A set of twins was subtracted by one But his smiles were always fond. Even the last one that graced his face.

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As Dumbledore resumed reading, people were already dreading whose name was next on the list. Some looked at the Weasley twins as soon as the qualities were enumerated. Both of them had been known by those qualities.

War was really an ugly thing, it doesn't discriminate who to take.

It just takes.

As soon as Fred's name was mentioned the entire Weasley family paled.

Fred couldn't die, he was the life of the family alongside his twin.

"No." Molly whispered. "Not my Freddie."

Arthur snuck a glance at the Diggorys. He had to admit that he only had an inkling on what they were feeling earlier, with their son slated to die at the end of the term.

But with Fred's name on the list, He can hazard a guess to what the Diggorys were feeling. It was an ugly feeling, knowing that he was going to outlive and bury one of his sons.

George gulped as Dumbledore continued. The one time that the both of them were separated his twin would die. He couldn't let this happen, he can't lose his other half.

"Like Pretty Boy Diggory said, it's not set in stone, right?" Fred tried to convince his family. "It's not like I'm dying at the next second right?" He offered a strained laugh.

"No." Percy declared. "I will do everything in my power to stop that from ever happening."

"Even sacrificing your own post at the ministry?" George challenged despite what he was feeling at the moment.

"Even if I have to sacrifice myself." Percy declared. "It's clear that I was with Fred during his last moments, I would sooner take the spell intended for him rather than let it pass by me."

"N-no." The Weasley twins were speechless at their older brother's declaration.

The challenge was meant to be a joke, some way to reduce the tension in the room. There were already three Hogwarts students slated to die within the next year starting with Cedric if the implications were to be believed.

"No!" Molly yelled. "No one is dying!" She declared as she gripped the twins' wrists tightly. "I won't have anyone dying under my watch."

"Your mother's right boys." Arthur stood next to Molly. "No parent should have to bury their child."

"We will make sure that won't happen." Bill promised.

"Too true." Charlie nodded.

"Why don't you sit with your family Percy?" Dumbledore offered. "You were summoned here not as a Ministry worker but as a member of the family."

"Go on Weatherby." Crouch nodded. "Dumbledore's right."

"If you would excuse me Headmaster, Mr. Bagman, Mr. Crouch."

Percy made his way to his family where he situated himself behind the twins as if making sure that his younger brothers weren't disappearing on his watch.

Ginny on the other hand, clenched her fists, unable to say anything. She was as shocked as her family when Fred's name was mentioned.

As much grief Ginny's twin brothers gave her, she loved them dearly, she loved all of her brothers dearly. She couldn't bear the thought of losing any of them.

Ron bore some resentment towards his twin brothers, as much as they harp against bullying, his brothers were bullying gits. If they weren't busy playing pranks on Percy, they were playing pranks on him.

Despite that, Ron didn't want any of them dead. He couldn't even imagine the burrow without any of the twins inside.

"No." Ron whispered his denial.

"Aww, ickle Ronniekins is worried for me." Fred ruffled his younger brother's hair.

"Don't worry Ronniekins, you won't get rid of us that easily." George patted Ron's shoulders.

The guilt Harry was feeling increased tenfold when Fred's name was mentioned. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't thick as everyone thought, he knew that this war has everyone dying for him from Colin to Cedric and now Fred. He didn't want this.

If only having everyone gift wrap him and be delivered to Voldemort on a silver platter would end the war. It'd be pretty naïve of him to think that way, he knew of Voldemort's agenda, of the Dark Lord's philosophies.

"It's not your fault." Remus whispered unto Harry's ear.

"I know that," Harry whimpered. "It's hard not to think it's not my fault when everyone's dying for me."

"It may seem that way Harry, but what Voldemort has done – will do – is exclusively his fault." Remus offered. "Your parents dying was not your fault, anyone dying in the war is not your fault."

"Are only students dying in this war?" Professor Mcgonagall voiced out.

Two of Mcgonagall's cubs were dying in the war, one as young as Colin Creevey and another as jovial as Fred Weasley.

Why was the world so unfair? They're just children.

"No." Dumbledore shook his head.

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Spite and Bitterness were the things that pushed him to join the Dark Lord, One declaration later, he had to cut the cord. Severus Snape was Dumbledore's spy, In a wizarding world that's full of lies. To protect he had to sneer, While doing his side job without fear, It did help that the one he protected, Was the son of a man he hated. Even if he was also the son of the woman he loved. In the end it didn't matter, For the boy would soon after, Win the war with his sacrifice, And survive the curse twice.

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Professor Dumbledore now feared for his spy's life. The explicit mention of Professor Snape's actual role in the war against Voldemort would put the potions master's life in jeopardy. It wouldn't have mattered had there been no children of known death eaters who managed to escape prosecution, but alas there were many in Slytherin house.

Dumbledore shook his head at his thoughts, for the greater good, Professor Snape must remain working under the Dark Lord.

People stared at the potions master, they didn't expect his name to be next on the list, let alone be on the list in the first place.

Most of the first order members worked out the fact that Professor Snape was the spy, it helped that they already knew of that information. They still do wonder the circumstances of his death, was he discovered or was a member of the order forced to kill him to preserve his cover.

Or worse, someone who thought that he was totally on Voldemort's side managed to kill him.

The Slytherins were also in turmoil. It does make some sense for their head of house to be working for the Headmaster, but what could he be spying from on Dumbledore's orders?

Some had thought that he was spying on the Death Eaters under Dumbledore's behest, it's the only thing that would make sense adding in the statement of the Dark Lord's return earlier.

They didn't have any proof to prove this claim and this made every Slytherin uncomfortable.

Draco himself frowned at the notion. Professor Snape was his godfather and he was doubting the man's loyalties to the Malfoys.

Was everything about Draco's godfather a lie then?

Draco has decided that his father will hear about this.

Remus frowned at the ode dedicated to his old classmate. He knew that Professor Snape was antagonistic towards his best friend's son. He knew it came from the Slytherin head's old resentment of James Potter that he took revenge on an innocent child, he didn't think it was to such an extent that it could potentially blow the potion master's cover.

Working with the Slytherin head, Remus knew of the resentment the Snape carried from their school days. He was justifiably angry from all the bullying he received from the Marauders.

The dog that was accompanying Remus simply growled the whole time Professor Snape's ode was read.

Harry frowned as he listened to the dedication. It wasn't hard to conclude that he was the boy who would survive the curse twice. The boy that Professor Snape has been protecting all this time.

But why be antagonistic towards him?

Harry can't figure out why Snape was acting like his Aunt Petunia whenever he was around his potion's teacher.

Couldn't the potions master have acted indifferently towards him rather than hate him?

If it was about what his father has done, isn't that a bit unfair? Why blame him for what his father has done?

Professor Severus Snape was the perfect picture stoicism. He didn't even bat an eye as soon as his name was uttered by the Headmaster. He had already mastered the art of Occlumency and because of that, he was perfectly able to mask his emotions.

As soon as Dumbledore got to the end for the ode dedicated to him, the potions master stared at Potter for a longer period of time. He didn't think the boy had it in him to sacrifice his life for strangers he hadn't even met. He was James Potter's son, he's bound to be self-aggrandizing and narcissistic. His recent actions were a testament to that.

There was no doubt that Potter would lord over the fact that he can survive the killing curse twice in a row over everyone else he found inferior to him.

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Remus Lupin was afraid of many things. The full moon, family, and friends. He feared that all his relationships would end. If people knew of his affliction, He knew they would leave without condition. Some of his fears were unfounded, As he found himself supported, By friends dearly beloved, And a wife that loved him dearly. He left behind a son, A son who would understand That they fought to protect his future And time would be his suture. Lupin's fears stem From Things out of his control He soon found that they were unfounded And found himself beloved.

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Harry had gone still as soon as the Headmaster resumed reading the ode. One of the few people who genuinely liked him would die because of him.

What could have happened for his father's best friend to die?

"Pr-professor Lupin?"

"It's not your fault Harry." Remus was quick to assure the boy. "I fought in the first war against Voldemort and that alone has painted a target on my back."

"B-but."

"But nothing." Sirius returned to his human form and engulfed his godson in a hug. "Remember what Remus said earlier, what Voldemort does is exclusively his fault."

"Sirius Black!" Most of the adults shouted, interrupting Dumbledore's reading of the ode midway through.

"Get away from Potter Black!" Professor Mcgonagall pointed her wand at the escaped convict.

"I have to agree with Minerva, Black." Amelia Bones cautiously approached the group. "If you know what's best for you you're going to leave the boy and surrender yourself."

"He is innocent!" Hermoine stood in front of her best friend's godfather. "Peter Pettigrew was the one who sold Harry's parents out."

"Hermoine!"

"Granger!"

"Looks like it was Black himself who put a confundus charm on the Goblet of Fire and apparently he also succeeded in putting the girl under the confundus charm as well." Moody snarled. "Likely to finish what the Dark Lord has started.

Moody fired off a red orb from his wand at Sirius, which Remus was quick to block.

"Professor Moody!" Mcgonagall exclaimed. "We do not attack unprovoked."

"Looks like Lupin is helping a fugitive," Moody growled, ignoring Mcgonagall's reaction.

"Do not get the wrong idea, Moody." Remus narrowed his eyes as he stood in front of the Granger. "You initiated an unprovoked attack when a student was in front of Sirius."

"Hermoine's right." Ron stood up. "Sirius Black is innocent."

"Ronald!" Molly gasped. "You sit down right now!" She demanded.

"It was Scabbers mum." Ron answered. "He turned out to be Peter Pettigrew." He admitted.

"The reason Sirius escaped Azkaban was to kill Pettigrew because he recognized him on one of the photographs you have had in Egypt Mrs. Weasley." Hermoine informed.

"That can't be." Crouch gasped. "Sirius Black killed Pettigrew alongside 12 muggles. The pieces of evidence were overwhelming."

"Are you gambling with Diggory's life right now?" Hermoine exclaimed. "Honestly, remember what the ode to Diggory said, a traitorous rat had other plans." She gestured towards Cedric. "Are you telling me that you'll take chances with Diggory's life just to deny the probability of Pettigrew's survival?"

"Hermoine calm down." Harry pulled on his best friend's robes.

"No I won't Harry." Hermoine shook his head. "I've seen your face when Diggory's ode was read Harry, I can't just sit by and let you wallow in grief and guilt."

"You know she's right mate." Ron nodded. "I was also able to hear what you and Professor Lupin were talking about earlier."

"I appreciate what you're doing Hermoine, Ron but this is my fight." Sirius placed a hand on their shoulder. "I can't have school children defending me." He smiled at the fourth year Gryffindor. "Why don't you two sit down now?"

Both Hermoine and Ron nodded and followed the request.

"We will have words later Ronald." Molly hissed.

"Headmaster Karkaroff?" Dumbledore prompted.

"There were a lot of Blacks with the Dark Lord." Durmstrang's headmaster stated. "I believe one of the youngest was named Regulus Black."

"My younger brother." Sirius growled.

"I believe I haven't heard of a Sirius Black." Igor Karkaroff shook his head. "Regulus Black was killed sometime before the Dark Lord fell."

"What about a Peter Pettigrew?" Remus questioned.

"His name rings familiar, I heard a few Death Eaters were displeased with someone named Peter." Karkaroff admitted.

"When you submitted those names, why haven't you stated a Pettigrew?" Crouch challenged.

"Because I was not sure, the Dark Lord had many allies unknown to me." Karkaroff answered.

"Tell me, Mr. Crouch, is it true that Black here hasn't received any trial?" Amelia put everyone's attention on Crouch.

"The evidence against him was overwhelming." Crouch defended himself. "What was left of Pettigrew was a finger and his bloodied clothes alongside the bodies of all twelve muggles."

"Merlin's Beard that is rubbish!" Amelia growled. "You sent a man to rot in Azkaban without any trial. Even your son received a fair trial after they were caught in the act of using the Cruciatus curse on Alice and Frank Longbottom! Even Headmaster Karkaroff was given a fair trial and you even agreed to his release after he provided a list of potential Death Eaters."

Neville flinched at the mention of his parents.

"The evidence was there! Black wasn't responding to any questioning and he continued to laugh like a madman."

"Excuses!" Amelia growled. "Auror Moody we will have words later for your unprovoked attack which could've harmed the students. Everyone else, stand down."

"But."

"I said stand down!" Amelia repeated.

The head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement looked at the escaped convict and looked him in the eye.

"And you Sirius Black, you will surrender yourself for questioning and trial."

"As long as I don't return to Azkaban."

After everyone was settled down, Dumbledore resumed reading the ode dedicated to Lupin.

The tension in the room was very thick. Some students were still processing what happened.

Cedric didn't think that his name would come up in the confrontation earlier, it seems his supposed death is connected to Potter in some way, shape or form. He gulped as his tried to calm himself from all the anxious feeling was getting.

It just didn't sound right to be discussing his inevitable death without his input but he knew he was largely ignorant to everything that has happened last year with Black's escape. It didn't feel right to insert himself into the conversation, despite his fate being discussed.

In response to the confrontation that happened, the Hufflepuffs scooted closer to Cedric as if feeling that the circle they were forming around their golden boy wasn't enough protection for him. Some had even taken to looking around and on the ground, considering Granger's words of a rat being the one to do Cedric in.

Harry gulped as he listened to the rest of the ode to Remus. Not only would Remus die, but he would also orphan a son.

"Harry."

"I can't help it," Harry responded to Sirius's call. "Stupid Voldemort and his stupid war."

"Life's always like that." Remus offered. "We make the most of it."

-----------

A loyal companion to the very end, Who's job was to deliver mail Hedwig went beyond the call of duty And protected her owner, truly She was born to soar and deliver And died as a protector.

--------------

"Who's Hedwig?" Came the question of one Ravenclaw student.

Harry merely clenched his fist at the unfairness of it all.

Why Hedwig?

Everyone close to him was being taken away one by one.

How was that fair?

Hermoine's and Ron's response to the ode was to give physical contact to their best friend. With Hermoine holding on to Harry's clenched fist while Ron hung his arms over Harry's shoulders.

Remus and Sirius scooted closer to Harry, letting him know that his father's best friends will be there for him.

------------

Wisdom in spades Intentions in shades. Greater good was his mantra It was one of his centra. Albus Dumbledore was a Headmaster Also the Elder Wand's master He acted as a mentor and confidant, This gained him a lot of covenants. He founded the Order of the Phoenix, To combat the ever-changing helix. The Dark Lord has introduced, Philosophies he induced, That lead to a war that reduced. In the end, Dumbledore's intentions were pure, That, all of us are sure Questionable, his actions maybe, It couldn't be denied that he wanted this war to cease and for everyone to live in peace.

------------

Everyone was silent as Dumbledore himself read the ode dedicated to him. No one could fathom that the most powerful wizard in their time would die.

Some adults despaired that the war against Voldemort would be twice as hard without Dumbledore leading the charge against the Dark Lord.

No one can deny the disadvantage they'll be at once Hogwarts's Headmaster is out of the picture.

Harry on the other hand had gone paler than he already was. As far as he knew, Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of all time and none other than he can repel Voldemort. If he's out of the picture, who's going to make Hogwarts safe? Who's going to protect everyone from the Death Eaters and Voldemort?

Dumbledore took a few moments to process what he just read.

Hogwarts's headmaster surveyed everyone's reaction to his future demise. He understood everyone's reservation with regards to the war Voldemort would wage the second time without him there to lead the charge. He could see everyone flinching and wincing at the idea of his demise.

It had been said that Hogwarts was the safest place in Britain as Dumbledore stayed in the school, which Voldemort wouldn't dare.

"Contrary to popular belief, I am neither immortal nor infallible," Dumbledore declared. "As such, like everyone else, I also bow to death." He shook his dead. "But to a well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

"Sir…"

"I am only a man Harry. I am no god." Dumbledore shook his head. "Like everyone else, I too would join everyone else who's died."

"But sir, what about Voldemort?" Harry questioned.

Almost everyone flinched at the mention of the Dark Lord's name, in fact, they've done so ever since the Headmaster started reading the ode dedicated to the fallen.

"I believe everyone here is capable of defeating Voldemort, Harry," Dumbledore assured. "I believe the Ministry and everyone present will bring about the peace that we all desire."

There was a few moments of silence as everyone processed everything that has happened so far from Harry's name getting ejected from the Goblet of Fire to the reading of the ode. It truly was an eventful Halloween night, even more eventful than the last three years.

------------

Cheery, clumsy, snarky and a bit zany That's what Nymphadora Tonks was to many Sweet, Loving and Caring, She was to Remus Lupin after marrying. She hated her given name with a passion, She'd hex even in the middle of action, If you're caught referring to her name You'd best apologize before you go in flames. She left behind a son, Who, no doubt, she'd love, She fought for his future, So he may prosper, Without a Dark Lord looming over. Tonks fought for love and peace, Something the Dark Lord doesn't have a piece, It didn't matter that she and Lupin left him, Because she knew others will love him for them.

------------

"Not my daughter." Both parental Tonks gasped as they listened to the ode dedicated to her daughter.

They seemingly tuned out everything after their daughter's name was mentioned as the both of them comforted each other.

Nymphadora Tonks on the other hand looked at her supposed husband and she couldn't deny the probable reasons why her future self was partially attracted to him, to the point of getting married.

As the both of them had yet to interact with each other, Tonks will have to see where everything would go. She maybe clumsy but she didn't get Os in her OWLs and NEWTs for being a fool and naïve.

For now, Remus and Tonks gave acknowledging nods at each other.

Sirius kept on elbowing his best friend.

"Will you stop that Padfoot?!" Remus hissed at his best friend. "Could you read the room for once in your life?!"

"Where's the fun in that Moony?" Sirius grinned. "I'm just happy that you were able to find love despite years of denying that."

"I don't know what my future self was thinking Sirius, but I assure you I will think things thoroughly so that there won't be any implications, I am not risking anyone else from my affliction."

"You do that." Sirius gave a toothy smile.

"Starting with knowing whether my children would inherit my sickness."

Harry, for his part, was busy wallowing in guilt. He caused a kid to be orphaned, not just any kid but his father's best friend's son would be orphaned because of him.

"Harry." Hermoine gripped on her best friend's hand tighter. "Remember what Professor Lupin said."

"She's right mate." Ron nodded as he squeezed his best friend's shoulder. "What Voldemort and his followers do, is entirely their fault and not yours. You've gotta remember that."

"Easy for you to say!" Harry growled. "You're not the living with everyone's blood on your hands."

"Harry!" Hermoine exclaimed.

"Tell me, Harry." Remus immediately took charge. "Did you kill any of the people mentioned in the ode?"

"No." Harry sagged.

"Have you wished for them to die?"

"No." Harry shook his head." Only wished that they'd stop hounding me and leave me alone most of the time." He admitted.

"Now who killed them?" Sirius asked.

"I don't know, Voldemort, Death Eaters?"

"Did you ask them to kill the people on the list?"

"No."

"Then why do you think every death listed in the scroll is your fault?" Remus questioned.

"Because everyone is dying for me to live," Harry screamed. "I never asked for this, I didn't want this."

"Oh, you sweet boy." Molly engulfed her son's best friend in a hug. "You are in no way to blame for all the deaths." She assured Harry. "Now remember what I'm going to say alright Harry? You are in no way at fault for anything that Voldemort and his death eaters do."

"What about Fred?" Harry looked at the Weasley matriarch.

"What about-"

"-Gred Harry?"

The Weasley twins finished each other's sentences.

"You died because of me." Harry looked at the floor, still in Mrs. Weasley's embrace. "Because Voldemort wanted me."

The twins looked at each other, as if trying to assure the young boy and to diffuse the tension in the room.

"If you-know-who and his band of baboons can do us in," George stated.

"Then I reckon that's on them and not you." Fred finished.

"I reckon you-know-who's a big fan of yours Harry, don't you think so Gred?" George grinned.

"Right you are Forge, I reckon he could give Ginny here a run for her galleons." Fred nodded.

"She hasn't even started chasing after Harry like a niffler chasing after anything shiny." George chuckled.

"Hey!" Ginny indignantly replied. "I wasn't that bad."

"Right you are sister dear!" Fred gave a hearty laugh.

"That's why you-know-who has you beat." George and Fred finished while grinning from ear to ear.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as his lips curled upwards at the Weasley twins' jokes. He could see that everyone was drowning in grief for the supposed fates of some of the people in the room due to Voldemort's return. He could even see some teachers smile at the jokes the twins made.

You could even see both Sirius and Remus, master pranksters during their time in Hogwarts, chuckling at the jokes the twins made.

Some of the students couldn't help but chuckle at the jokes the twins made, it made for a good breaking point from the gloomy atmosphere the room was taking.

A few students adorned sad smiles. They had realized how big of a loss it would be for the wizarding world to lose the Weasley twins.

Some of the older Hufflepuff students, who had known Tonks before she graduated also realized what a loss it would be for the wizarding world to lose her. She was one of the more cheery people in Hogwarts and losing her would mean that the wizarding world would be a dimmer place than it already was.

----------

Sirius Black was always Sirius. As a Marauder, he was always not serious. Easy going, and a joker. That's what he and the marauders were after. Everything changed when his best friends were killed, A treacherous rat forced him a cell to fill. A simple explosion seemed to fit the bill. Transfiguring himself to escape, The dementor-filled hellscape. Once escaped however He took a vow forever, Be there for his godson Like how his best friend's parents treated him as a son. He once had other plans, To fillet the rat in a pan If not for his godson's nobility He'd have truly been a murderer in reality.

-----------

"Sirius." Harry whimpered.

"It's alright Harry, it's not your fault."

"How is any of this fair?!" Harry sobbed.

"Oh sod off Potter." One Draco Malfoy scoffed. "Not everything revolves around you."

"Easy for you to say Malfoy." Harry glared at the Slytherin. "It's not like you're the one who Voldemort chose to kill that Halloween night." He scoffed.

"I bet you can't even face a Death Eater head-on." Ron joked.

"And no Slytherin was in the ode." Hermoine pointed out. "Except for Professor Snape."

"Children, let's not engage in these childish displays." Professor Mcgonagall called everyone to order.

"My father will hear about this!" Draco sneered.

"You will find at times that life is unfair Harry." Remus knelt in front of his former student. "We just learn how to cope with the unfairness of it all."

"Did it hurt? Losing mum and dad?" Harry questioned his father's best friend.

"It definitely hurt," Sirius replied. "Especially considering how I was indirectly responsible for their deaths." The Black heir sighed. "If I hadn't suggested to make myself a decoy and have Pettigrew be the actual secret keeper for James and Lilly, you wouldn't have to live with your muggle relatives."

"Does it ever stop hurting?"

"No Harry." Remus shook his head. "The hurt we feel after losing your parents will always be with us."

"We just learn how to cope with it." Sirius supplied. "Remember what I told you that night?"

"The ones that love us never really leave us." Harry quoted as he clutched his chest.

"Always remember that Harry."

Ron and Hermoine looked at their best friend with worry, as far as they knew, Harry always takes the blame for everything, even the things out of his control.

That's not even considering how much of a hero-complex Harry's got.

"Just know mate that you are never at fault to the deaths listed there." Ron patted his best friend's shoulders. "Altho, if you ever kill Malfoy, I wouldn't blame you either."

"Ronald!" Came the immediate response from Mrs. Weasley and Hermoine.

"I have to say, killing the rat would probably prevent some of the deaths mentioned in the ode." Sirius stated out loud.

"I have to agree." Remus nodded. "But Harry is a much better person than we are."

"I just don't want my parents' best friends to become murderers." Harry tried to justify his actions. "If I had known that would lead to someone getting killed in the process…"

"We are not saying it's a bad thing." Sirius shook his head. "We are saying that you are a better man for it."

"But Diggory, he…."

"You're a good bloke Harry." Cedric exclaimed. "But I don't think it's fair to blame yourself for the things you-know-who, or his followers, has done or will do."

"The boy himself has spoken Harry." Remus consoled. "Let go of the guilt for something that has yet to happen." He rubbed the boy's back. "As Diggory once declared, nothing is set in stone, we can still change things."

-----------

Ted Tonks was Eden's apple, To a family of pure-blooded people. He was a good father and husband, Even when his wife's family acted like a baboon band. And agreed with the unfortunate name of his daughter. As he was on the run, Due to the propaganda, Introduced by Voldemort. He protected a child, From the Dark Lord. A muggle-born he may be, A decent man is all you can see. Loving as a family man Hero to everyone.

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"Dad?" The young Tonks looked at her father in alarm.

"With you-know-who returning, I'm surprised I wasn't killed off immediately." Ted Tonks shrugged. "He has painted a target on every muggle-born's back."

"Edward!" Came Andromeda's immediate response.

"It's inevitable 'Meda." Ted cupped his wife's face. "You know what he's like, his hatred for muggles and muggle-borns alike."

"Doesn't mean I would like for you to die on me!" Andromeda growled while putting her husband's hands away from her face.

"I don't like the thought of leaving you either," Ted admitted. "But the thought of your death hinges on me being near you scares me."

"Edward Tonks, are you implying that I can't defend myself?" Andromeda hissed.

"Even the most powerful wizards fall to death no matter how proficient they are 'Meda." Ted countered. "I don't want the cause of your death to be me."

"Am I just going to let you die in some dark place then?" Andromeda rebutted. "I know I am safe for I am a pureblood but that's what I'm here for you, to protect you from that madman."

"Mum! Dad!" Tonks yelled. "You can continue your argument later, children are watching."

Both parental Tonks looked at their daughter before looking at their audience. They had the decency to blush at their argumentative display.

"I love you Edward Tonks and I can't bear to live knowing that you'd be dying without me there to fight for your life."

"I love you 'Meda but our daughter's right we should continue this outside of children's ears and eyes."

"Eden's apple?" Came the question of some of the purebloods in the room.

"In the muggle world, different theories surround the creation of our world," Hermoine spoke up. "One of which is the creation mentioned in one of the muggle religions wherein a being of higher power created the world as a garden and the first man and woman to step on Earth were tempted to eat an apple from a forbidden tree."

"Was the woman's name Eden then?" Arthur asked curiously.

"No, it was the name of the garden." Hermoine shook her head.

"You're talking about the creation of the world in the book of Genesis aren't you?" Ted questioned.

"Yes." Hermoine nodded.

"Thought so." Ted smiled. "If I'm the apple, then who's Adam, Eve, and the snake?"

"I don't know," Hermoine shook her head. "It has been awhile since I read the Angelican bible myself. If I were to hazard a guess, Eve would be your wife and you yourself could double as Adam."

"Double? There's two of him?"

"No Ron, it's a figure of speech between muggles," Hermoine shook her head. "It just means that Mr. Tonks represents the apple and Adam from the story of creation at the same time."

"We're going to read that story of creation after this is over Ted." Andromeda declared. "I'm rather curious as to how we relate to the characters and symbols in that story."

"You've got a fiery mother-in-law Moony." Sirius chuckled as he elbowed his best friend. "Be careful with Andromeda, she's got one hell of a temper even rivalling that of my mother's."

"She's not about to yell at everything that displeases her like your mother. Would she?" Remus questioned.

"While she could rival dear old mummy's temper, she's mellow in her approach." Sirius hummed.

"You know, if you would marry her daughter, you and I would really be family mate." Sirius smiled."

"That remains to be seen Sirius." Remus shook his head. "I need to know if my affliction could be passed on to my children or even infect my spouse." He admitted. "Until then, I need to stay away from relationships."

"Who did he try to protect?" Came Harry's inquiry.

"I don't think you were involved in Mr. Tonks's death," Hermoine answered Harry's question. "The previous odes specifically, or at least implicitly, stated you when they died, including Professor Snape's and Sirius's." She continued. "Mr. Tonks was probably protecting a muggle-born student, also on the run, from Voldemort."

"You?" Ron questioned.

"I don't think it's me." Hermoine shook her head. "If it was me, then it would probably go the way Colin's ode went, referring to Harry implicitly."

"But what if your names are going to be next?"

"I'm always going to be a target of Voldemort's Harry." Hermoine offered. "Being a muggle-born."

"Besides remember what mum told you, you are not in any way responsible if Hermoine and I were to die." Ron reiterated his mother's words.

"Oi! What about us?!" The Weasley twins called out.

-----------

A boy strayed by family of prejudice, Following the family's tradition of malice. Regulus Black served dutifully as the Dark Lord's vassal, Until something happened that he cancelled. Discovered how atrocious the Dark Lord at the crux, The making of the darkest artifact – a Horcrux. He recovered the artifact, replaced it as a matter of fact, Rebelling against the Voldemort He didn't even end up in a morgue. Killed for his defiance, But gave everyone a chance.

----------

"Wait, what?" Sirius questioned loudly upon hearing his younger brother's name. "Why's a death eater in that list?" He growled.

"Sirius! That's your brother!" Andromeda hissed.

"Yeah, well a brother who willingly joined Voldemort."

"Let Professor Dumbledore finish the ode Sirius." Remus suggested. "I'm sure we'll know the reason why your brother, who we know was a death eater, is in this."

Dumbledore simply raised an eyebrow at the reaction but he was also curious why a known death eater was part of the ode. Severus was a death eater that spied on the Dark Lord, the ode had explicitly stated.

He had to wonder, what was the case for Regulus Black?

Sirius's eyes widened as he listened to the ode dedicated to his younger brother. He let the old headmaster finish it before he reacted accordingly.

"He defected?" Sirius exclaimed in disbelief. "He died because he defected and stole from the Dark Lord?"

"Apparently so." Remus nodded.

"Was my mother aware of this?"

Sirius looked at his cousin, Andromeda, as if asking if she knew about this particular fact. At the shake of her head, he confirmed that no one was aware of his younger brother's treachery on the Dark Lord's side.

"Kreacher would probably be aware Sirius." Andromeda offered. "You know how kind Regulus was to that nasty house-elf."

"I'd suggest asking the house-elf until after the reading." Remus immediately interjected. "It won't do good if muggle-borns and half-bloods were to be subjected to Kreacher's views.

Sirius had the decency to wince at the remark of his family's house-elf.

"Galloping Gargoyles! A Horcrux!" Crouch exclaimed. "He made a Horcrux!"

"What's a Horcrux?" Came Harry's query.

A few of the adults in the room flinched at the inquiry, none of them were comfortable explaining a dark artifact such as a Horcrux while the others, the students included, looked to them with curiosity not knowing how vile a Horcrux really was.

"A Horcrux is an object where a witch or wizard has hidden a fragment of their soul, tethering them to life, essentially making them immortal," Bill answered. "I guess the making of the Horcrux proves that you-know-who can still return."

"William Arthur Weasley!" Molly exclaimed.

"They need to know mum," Bill argued. "If people are ignorant of that simple fact, then people will not believe that you-know-who could ever return."

"The only way to kill someone who has a Horcrux is to destroy the Horcrux themselves before the main body." Madam Bones interjected. "If you-know-who has hidden his Horcrux, killing him permanently, would be difficult."

"I fear Voldemort has made multiple Horcruxes." Dumbledore admitted. "I am not sure as to how many has he made so far I'm only aware of two."

"M-multiple?!" Bagman exclaimed. "Merlin's beard! Has he gone mad?!"

"You-know-who can stomach killing children and toddlers, he can stomach making Horcruxes." Professor Snape sneered.

"I believe this discussion can wait," Molly interjected. "There are children here."

"Before we move on," Amelia spoke up. "Professor Dumbledore, you said you were aware of two, could you tell me of those and were they destroyed before this day?"

"One was destroyed," Dumbledore admitted. "As for the second one, it's rather complicated."

"How so?" Hermoine inquired.

"No." Charlie gasped.

"That only meant that you-know-who has made a Horcrux out of a living being." Bill's eyes widened.

"A slimy snake to the core," Sirius growled in disgust. "He knew that we wouldn't kill an innocent just to end his reign."

The students looked at each other, unsure how to process the info that was dumped on them.

"Every ministry official present shall discuss this with you Professor Dumbledore once this even is concluded." Amelia declared. "I would like to prevent the innocent casualties of this war and end it as soon as we can."

------------

A house-elf who only wanted to protect Harry Potter from a threat that was erected Dobby offered protection in the most roundabout way, Aiming to steal, injure and maim just to get his way. While the life-threatening situations were unwarranted, The intention of those actions was appreciated. It got him freed from his master, Making him a free house-elf, offering help faster. As his own master, he aided his friend, Which ultimately got him to his end To escape captivity From Voldemort's activity.

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"D-dobby?" Harry whimpered.

"Bloody Hell!" Ron cussed.

"Oh, Harry."

Hermoine and Ron hugged their best friend.

The both of them knew how important Dobby was to Harry despite the house-elf's actions towards him during their second year.

The three of them knew that Dobby died to save them, or at the very least to save Harry from Voldemort's clutches.

"It's alright mate." Ron comforted his best friend. "We're here for you."

Harry simply nodded as he sagged himself under his best friend's embrace.

Draco was a bit stunned that his family's former house-elf was listed in the ode. He was confused as to why Dobby was freed from their services and his father didn't elaborate enough to decipher the actual reason for the house-elf's freedom.

"That explains things." Draco hissed. "Potter freed our family's house-elf."

"Does your father know about this?" Parkinson questioned.

"Most likely, he was in a foul mood when he delivered that news to us." Draco nodded.

"What can you expect from him? He's friends with a mudblood." Parkinson hissed.

Remus and Sirius looked at their best friend's son with worry. Most of the people listed in the ode were people close to him or were involved in some way, shape, or form. They think that any more of this would break him.

"Is it wise to continue Remus?" Sirius asked. "Just look at Harry."

"I don't know Sirius, seeing Harry like this breaks my heart," Remus admitted. "Most of the people listed in that ode Dumbledore's reading are people close to Harry, or he was involved during their demise.

"Professor, how many names are left to be read?" Remus asked out loud.

"Four more Remus." Dumbledore replied.

"Can this continue tomorrow?" Sirius asked. "I think everyone needs a bit of time to process everything that we've heard tonight."

"Don't be too soft on Potter, Lupin." Professor Snape scoffed. "Besides, four odes are left on the scroll, its imperative that we let everyone process everything in one go rather than divide it making another day dreadful for the people."

"Professor Snape has a point." Professor Sprout nodded. "It'd be beneficial for them, in the long run, to hear everything now rather than create more dreadful days for the students, that way they'll have time to process and heal." She stated. "Although I won't use such heartless language on a student."

"Heartless?" Professor Snape challenged.

"Calm down Professor Snape." Professor Sprout admonished. "Every teacher and staff know of your disdain for the boy." She rolled her eyes. "So yes heartless, if you had been properly observing Potter you'd have seen the clear distress he's showing."

"I-it's fine, let's continue." Harry managed to find his voice.

----------

Fair, Just and Uncompromising This Department head was promising Law Enforcement was her game Bribery and Trickery was her bane. Amelia Bones was an amazing Department Head. She's what Dark Witches and Wizards dread. One of the many reasons why she was among the first, To be killed in the Dark Lord's Immortality thirst. Murdered, she may be, Among the first casualties we see, But she was among who the Dark Lord feared. The threat she posed would put a stop to all his dreams, he supposed. Hence she was opposed and killed in her home.

-----------

"Auntie?" Susan looked at her aunt in distress.

Amelia immediately engulfed her niece in a hug and comforted her in a way

"I am such a threat huh." Amelia couldn't help but smirk at the circumstance of her death.

"You seem calm Amelia." Arthur asked.

"I'm the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Amelia shrugged. "It's not like I want to die, but rather it's an expected move by the opposition."

"Does that mean?" Susan managed to whimper out.

"Yes, Susan." Amelia nodded.

"But I don't want to lose you, I already lost mum and dad."

"I promise to be careful."

Amelia rubbed her niece's back in an attempt to comfort and console the young girl.

One thing was for certain, while she knew that her time in this world would be limited but if every adult present would work together to stop the Dark Lord from ever returning then not only will her life be saved but also the lives of the innocents who died so young and all the people listed in the ode.

"I must state the urgency of the meeting we will have right after this." Amelia declared.

Every adult in the area nodded their heads.

-----------

Excitement and Joy You'd think he received a toy. His first bout of adventure Was meeting a deep water creature That was even before he was sorted To brave Gryffindors where his brother was first posted. Dennis Creevey was a lot like his brother Excited with magic all over Not all is what it seems however As magic also dimmed his life forever He sneaked into the battle Despite the teachers' prattle He fought alongside his brother Protected some others When he saw his brother's corpse lay Was when the floor gave way Fallen to pits unknown His body, nowhere known.

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Everyone's eyes widened at the mention of the other Creevey. Not only will Colin die, so would his younger brother.

Colin immediately held unto his younger brother as tight as he could. He refused to let go of his hold on his Dennis only loosening it enough not to hurt the younger Creevey.

Not to mention Colin's younger brother got the short end of the stick, falling to somewhere unknown, his body never found.

That's not even mentioning how the younger Creevey died right after seeing his older brother's dead body.

Dennis on the other hand gulped. Both he and his brother were going to die, as students of the school. Was magic really so fascinating as he and his brother thought if their lives would end before they could even experience the world of magic to its fullest?

"Colin? Are we going to die?" Dennis asked his older brother. "Are we leaving mum and dad?"

Dennis knew that it was a bit unfair to ask his older brother that question. He just can't properly process that he and his brother were going to die to so young, so soon.

Colin looked at Dennis and contemplated how to respond to his younger brother's question.

The elder Creevey found it hard to process that his younger brother would share his fate.

Suddenly the Creevey brothers found themselves engulfed in an embrace, courtesy of one Molly Weasley.

Both Creevey brothers tensed up, they thought Diggory was the first one to die, but what if this is how it would go?

The Creevey brothers held unto each other tightly, refusing to let go of each other.

No amount of optimism could save them from this.

"You boys don't worry about all that." Molly comforted the boys. "Let the adults handle everything, all you should be worrying about are your exams, OWLs and NEWTs."

"Mum! They're only third and first years, don't you think so Fred?" George called out.

"Right you are George, a bit early for them to be thinking of the OWLS." Fred snickered.

"The both of you hush!" Percy admonished. "Can't you see our mother is trying to comfort the children?"

Harry, Hermoine, Ted, and some muggle-borns and muggle-raised children winced at Molly's maternal nature. They knew she meant well for the children but the rise of child abductions and murders meant that the kids thought that they were going to die right here and now.

Ted immediately stood up and approached Molly while Hermoine approached the Creevey brothers.

"Mrs. Weasley, please don't take this the wrong way, but could you remove yourself from the boys?" Ted requested.

"Can't you see that these boys are distressed?" Molly glared at Ted. "Most of the children listed in that ode have someone to comfort the child, apart from these boys."

"I know." Ted nodded. "There's just this muggle concept about strangers," He sighed. "I know you came from a place of maternal comfort but these boys also have muggle teachings ingrained into them, particularly regarding strangers."

"What does that mean?"

"Any adult, who children barely know and approached them with any sliver of kindness especially when that level of kindness is unwarranted, would no doubt abduct the children," Ted gestured towards the Creeveys. "Just look at the boys, some might think that the way they were tensing up as soon as you hugged them was a result of the ode that listed their names, yes its one of the things why they were tensing up, but considering the muggle teachings the two of them are probably thinking that this would be the moment where they die." He bluntly finished.

"I'm hardly a stranger to these children!" Molly indignantly replied. "Ginny is in Colin's year."

"Has Colin ever seen you as you picked Ginny every end of term?" Ted questioned.

"What about Harry?" Arthur questioned.

"Actually Mr. Weasley, I was the one who approached Mrs. Weasley." Harry admitted. "I asked her how to get to Platform nine and three quarters."

"It also depends on the child, these kids clearly show signs of distress, and someone they barely know tries to comfort them." Hermoine helpfully supplied.

"Merlin's beard!" Molly immediately let go of the boys. "Didn't know that the muggles are having those kinds of problems."

"It's not surprising that no one in the wizarding world, especially purebloods, don't know about stranger-danger," Ted shrugged. "Almost everyone here is related to each other, everyone's hardly a stranger."

"Stranger danger?" Andromeda asked.

"Muggle children are being abducted and/or killed since the year 1980," Ted answered his wife. "Every muggle child were taught these kinds of things as soon as they're old enough to attend muggle schools."

"You still keep up with muggle happenings?" Amelia asked.

"The Wizarding World may be separate but we are still obligated to function in the muggle world, such as not using magic when in their presence." Ted shrugged.

"Hello, Colin." Hermoine patted the elder Creevey's back.

The Creevey brothers were unresponsive too caught up with their supposed demise to pay attention to their surroundings.

"Colin? Dennis?" Hermoine tried to gain the brothers' attention again.

Colin and Dennis managed to look at Hermoine despite their dazed state. They were still unable to form any coherent verbal responses, too caught up with their thoughts.

"Colin, Dennis please do me a favor," Hermoine decided what the first course of action was. "Name five things you can see."

Colin and Dennis decided to look around the room and began enumerating what they saw at the same time.

"Colin first." Hermoine prompted.

"Chairs, Harry, students, robes, and the walls." Colin enumerated.

"Harry, Goblet of fire, chairs, tables, and robes." Dennis did what was asked.

"Name four things you can feel, this time Dennis goes first."

"Robes, wood, floor, hair." Dennis listed.

"Hair, pants, socks, table." Colin did as instructed.

"Colin, Dennis I had you name those things so that you can confirm for yourselves that you're in Hogwarts, that you're safe here in Hogwarts." Hermoine patted the Creevey brothers' shoulder. "No one is going to kill the two of you."

"How do you know that?"

"Would the teachers and staff, especially Professor Dumbledore, let anything happen to you?" Hermoine questioned.

Dennis and Colin knew the answer immediately. They knew that Hogwarts's teachers won't let anything bad happen to anyone, most especially to them.

Colin knew that because of what he experienced during his first year, Professor Dumbledore himself alongside Professor Mcgonagall placed him in the school's hospital wing to be treated. He might've been petrified but he was conscious from time to time.

Dennis knew his brother won't lie to him, especially when he expressed that particular fear to his brother when he first boarded on the Hogwarts express.

"But the ode…"

"Nothing is set in stone." Cedric sat beside the younger Creevey. "Things have yet to happen," He smiled at the Creevey brothers. "And we're making sure nothing we've heard here would come to pass."

"Pretty boy Diggory is right." The Weasley twins sat beside Colin.

"The ode was sent back in time to warn us." George seconded his twin's statement.

"And hopefully prepare us in the coming days." Fred finished.

Professor Mcgonagall was flabbergasted that she almost dropped the books she got on the floor.

Three of the Gryffindor cubs were surely going to perish in the coming days if things weren't rectified immediately and she won't stand for it.

Hopefully Moody is up to the task at preparing the students for the war that was sure to come, even his motto of constant vigilance would help.

Dumbledore simply shook his head at the loss of life so young. The younger Creevey is probably the youngest casualty in the coming war and that was a sobering thought.

It was already bad enough that the first name listed was one as young as the elder Creevey but to know that his younger brother would share Colin's fate it was just too much to bear.

The Headmaster was confident that his close friend and auror, Alastor Moody, would be up to the task to prepare Hogwarts. He had trained many successful aurors during his tenure as an auror on active duty.

As he let some of the conversations continue among the peanut gallery, Professor Dumbledore read ahead and prepare himself for the next name.

It was saddening to see his close friend's name next but as he continued reading silently, Professor Dumbledore's face warped: a frown was etched on the headmaster's ancient face, eyes were narrowed and a thin line formed on his mouth.

"Amelia, Minerva, Severus, Flitwick please secure Alastor Moody." Dumbledore cut everyone from their conversations.

"Dumbledore! What is the meaning of this?!"

"If you would?" Dumbledore ignored his friend's protest.

"Petrificus Totalus"

"Incarcerous"

Moody blocked the spells coming his way and grabbed a random student from his side, which turned out to be one Marietta Edgecombe, judging from the gasps from the student body.

"Everyone drop your wands." Moody roared. "Or she gets it."

"Enough!" Dumbledore bellowed.

Hogwarts's headmaster wasn't at all deterred from the threat and immediately sent a disarming charm wordlessly at the sudden hostile teacher and freed his hostage from his grasp.

Both Professors Flitwick and Snape sent wordless full body bind curse at Moody to prevent him from harming anyone in the student body.

Professor Mcgonagall wordlessly conjured two pieces of rope from the tip of her wand and restrained Moody's upper and lower limbs.

Professor Dumbledore sent another spell right at his supposed friend and revealed that this Moody was actually someone under the guise of a polyjuice potion.

"Severus, confiscate the flask."

Professor Snape obliged with the order. As soon as he retrieved the flask and took a whiff of its smell. "Polyjuice Potion."

Once the effects of the potion faded out, it revealed one supposedly dead Death Eater.

Bartemius Crouch Jr.

"Galloping Gargoyles!"

"Mr. Crouch?" Amelia glared at the ministry department head. "Why is your supposedly dead son here posing as Auror Moody?"

"Amelia we will continue this after the reading." Professor Dumbledore admonished. "I know there are some questions why I seemed to have ordered to restrain Professor Moody unprovoked, the next ode should shed some light regarding that."

"Well then," Amelia nodded. "Mr. Percy Weasley, could you please retrieve Mr. Crouch's wand for me." She ordered. "It would put me and every adult here at ease if Mr. Crouch does not have access to his wand."

Conflicted to where his loyalties lie, Percy was reluctant to retrieve his boss's wand, but his adherence to the rules won out and obliged the order, to which Mr. Crouch willingly gave to him. He immediately handed the wand to Madam Bones.

"Please continue Professor Dumbledore."

-----------

Stared at the darkness more than once or twice Paranoia has become his vice. "Constant Vigilance" was his motto, It saved his life and others thereto. He died during the battle of the seven Potters, Escorting someone polyjuiced as Harry Potter, Despite the boy's utter disapproval of the plan. Mad-Eye, he was known to everyone who knew him Without him, the world would have been a lot more dim. There was a time his motto worked to his detriment When the Dark Lord ordered one to impersonate him His imposter copied him to great effect Even jumpstarted the Dark Lord's return, unchecked. By making sure Harry Potter's name was ejected, From the Goblet of Fire – An ancient object.

----------

Everyone looked at Harry as soon as the statement 'battle of the seven Potters' was uttered. It didn't take a genius to know that seven people were polyjuiced as the boy-who-lived and acted as bait while Harry was safely escorted.

That was all forgotten when the person responsible for putting Harry's name into the Goblet of Fire was the man who impersonated Professor Moody.

Everyone gasped as they realized that Harry didn't put his name into the ancient artifact. Most of Hogwarts's student body immediately assumed that Harry has the means to place a confundus charm on a magical object and hog the spotlight.

That belief was cemented when other Gryffindors basically confirmed that statement either through showing their elation that a Gryffindor made it in or in contempt because Harry got in.

It was fortunate for them that not a day has passed since the champion selection averting what could've been them making an arse out of themselves by blaming the Potter for something he has never done.

Ron especially gulped at the reveal, he may have made a prat of himself had he focused more on that fact rather than the ode that was being read to them.

Professor Snape merely sneered at the reveal.

Harry was completely focused on the fact that he probably caused more deaths during the battle of the seven Potters, Professor Moody being one of them.

A lot of people probably died there, maybe that's when Fred died, when Colin died.

"Mate." Ron snapped Harry back to reality. "What did we tell you about blaming yourself?"

"This is different!" Harry exclaimed, guilt gnawing his very being. "Colin and Dennis could've died during that time! Fred could've died during that time! All because they wore my stupid face!"

"Does it help to know that this kind of plan was concocted by Moody himself?" Sirius asked. "Because that Seven Potters plan has Moody's scent all over it."

"I feel you, Freddie." George patted his twin's shoulder, chuckling.

"I'll look like a scrawny specky git forever." Fred exaggeratedly shuddered as he laughed with his twin.

"Be serious you two!" Molly admonished her sons.

"I believe none of your schoolmates would've died there." Remus ignored the jokes. "For this plan to be enacted, the people who'd wear your face would have to be of age so that they can also defend themselves against all attacks."

"A Slytherin-like plan if I do say so myself." Sirius nodded.

"But people still died!" Harry exclaimed.

"They knew the consequences, no one in the order coerces people to do things they don't want to." Remus shook his head. "They knew the risks when they enacted this plan."

"Still…"

"They knew they could die, Harry." Sirius shook his head. "That's the very nature of war, no matter the reason, it just takes the people that we love away from us."

"The people who probably died during that plan would still die even if the seven Potters plan hadn't been concocted," Remus assured. "They died as heroes Harry, they died protecting you."

"That's just it, I don't want anyone dying for me." Harry exclaimed.

Sirius and Remus looked at their best friend's son. They knew that Harry was part of a prophecy that was why James and Lily had to hide in the first place. They knew many people would die for Harry because of that very reason.

As much as they want to tell the boy of that reason, they couldn't, in good conscience, do it. The boy would probably take it badly.

"Just remember, Harry the people listed in the ode, including my younger brother who joined Voldemort, are the Wizarding World's heroes." Sirius rubbed his godson's back.

----------

Casualties were many during the wars Many of whom were innocent by far. No idea of the war they were involved in Ignorant of the ideals against them. Some died as heroes who protected, The people who were neglected. Muggles who gained the Dark Lord's ire Ignited the heroes' protective fire. Fighting what they think was right In protection of others, with might. Others who had a greater sense of self-preservation, Something that Gryffindors need to be taught with vocation Died on the run, hoping to outrun the Death Eaters Even if the circumstances were worse than any eaters. Others died after defecting Hoping to escape the inevitable ejecting. Alas they failed But their sacrifices has derailed The Dark Lord's plan from fruition Even if they were without recognition. And others may view it as dying in cowardice Worse than dying with avarice. I will say this in explicit No one really wins in wars Both sides lose so far Both sides suffer casualties Both sides suffer injuries This is for the Departed For all factions that interacted Voldemort's, Grindelwald's, Dumbledore's Hoping that future generations learn From mistakes we earned. For the departed May your lessons that have imparted, Would bring us to a bright and hopeful future And in time heal our wounds and would-be sutures.

-----------

Everyone, Slytherin students included, couldn't help but agree with the sentiment that there really was no winner in wars and some of them agreed with the sentiment that Gryffindors needed to be taught a sense of self-preservation.

Even erHerHermoine wholeheartedly agreed with that sentiment, even if she was also guilty for that particular trait herself.

The concluding ode implied that there were more casualties apart from the ones listed previously. Casualties on both Voldemort's and Dumbledore's sides, even from people who were largely ignorant of the conflict because they were unaware about magic or otherwise.

"That's the last of the odes." Dumbledore announced.

"I believe we should dismiss the students, let them process what they just heard." Madam Pomfrey suggested.

"That's a fine idea," Amelia agreed. "While the adults in the room are to meet at the Headmaster's office."

"If I may," Professor Snape spoke up. "Where do we deposit the impostor and his father?"

"I'd like for them to be in the Headmaster's office as well, I would like to interrogate them myself." Amelia voiced out.

"Heads of houses and prefects please escort the students back in their common rooms," Dumbledore instructed. "Once done, the prefects are to perform their duties as usual, earlier than normal while the heads of houses will reconvene with us in my office."

With that instruction delivered, the prefects and heads of houses escorted the other students back in their room, some were silently trying to process anything and everything that happened recently.

"Remember Harry, nothing is your fault." Sirius assured the Potter.

"Everything is Voldemort's fault, alright." Remus doubled down on that assurance.

"Rest assured, we will make that clear to your git of a Potion's teacher." Sirius grinned.

"He's a Professor Sirius, give him the respect he deserves."

"He may be a Professor but he's still Snivellus." Sirius scoffed.

----------

"What did you mean of that second Horcrux Headmaster?" Amelia questioned the headmaster.

"Harry Potter is Voldemort's unintended Horcrux." Dumbledore revealed.

"Are you certain Albus?" Professor Mcgonagall gasped.

"The reveal that Harry Potter was a parsel mouth cemented that fact, as we know, Parselmouths only exists in the families of Parselmouths."

"Like the metamorphmagi's ability to transform at will." Andromeda nodded.

"Lily was a muggle-born, and no Potter has been a Parselmouth before." Sirius nodded.

"Merlin's beard." Molly gasped.

"I take it that this means that Potter needs to die," Professor Snape inquired. "A swine raised for the slaughter."

"Voldemort cannot harm Harry, however." Dumbledore shook his head.

"The only way to destroy the Horcrux that's inside young Harry is to kill him." Professor Snape remarked.

"Either by ourselves or through the hands of the Death Eaters." Percy remarked.

Everyone looked at the unconscious Crouches.

"Percy!" Molly gasped.

"I think we should look for other ways," Bill interjected. "I'll try asking the Goblins."

----------

Due to the nature of the champion selection for the Triwizard Tournament, and the subsequent foreboding ode that came soon after, Headmaster Dumbledore and Department Head bones agreed that some aurors should be stationed at the school.

With the reveal of Harry's status as a Horcrux, Bill was charged with researching about Horcruxes, and how to destroy one without killing the host, with one step in mind, asking the goblins.

Professors Mcgonagall and Sprout in turn proposed that Remus Lupin should return to Hogwarts as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, which also gained the blessing of Department Head Bones.

Professor Flitwick proposed the reinstatement of the mandatory attendance of the Dueling club by the students, with him and Lupin as teachers, to further improve everyone's dueling skills and add more spells to their arsenal.

The Triwizard Tournament went as planned, with four champions, they were also given special instruction by the freed and recently declared innocent, Sirius Black.

Without Bartemius Crouch jr. making the Triwizard Cup a portkey near the Riddle estate, both Cedric and Viktor were able to reach the cup first, but the standoff between boys were interrupted when they saw Harry appear within their line of vision.

With them focused on Harry, Fleur was able to run past the boys and claim victory for herself, making her the Triwizard Tournament winner.

Amelia soon found out why Harry was handpicked to enter the Triwizard Tournament. It's to use Harry as an ingredient for a dark potion to give Voldemort his body back.

This revelation has delayed Voldemort's return, Madame Bones immediately commissioned the services of every Auror to storm the Riddle estate in an attempt to arrest or even kill the Dark Lord.

Voldemort still managed to return but he returned to Wizarding Britain that is ready to face the threat he posed.

#cedric diggory #colin creevey #Dennis Creevey #fred weasley #harry potter #story #there is a lot of characters lol #like wow #caannot tag them all #ode of the future

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mars-categorically-isnt-green · 5 years

Text

New School Year

[behold, my updated fic! please forgive the shitty plot, I wrote this very quickly, but I hope it doesn't deter too much from the story. enjoy!!]

~~~

Remus stared passively at the countryside whooshing by through the thick glass. Sixth year already. He glanced to his right, a bar of half-eaten chocolate resting on the seat beside him. The others were in another compartment, talking to girls they had done potions with the year before. He fidgeted with the edges of his robes. Girls were the last thing on his mind. Remus felt uneasy, like he often did the first few days at Hogwarts. That's what it is, he assured himself, it's the nerves. It's nothing, don't stress yourself out about it. In a flurry of commotion, Peter and James ran in, bringing their chaos with them into the compartment.

"Moony, you would have howled," exclaimed James "We were all doing Bertie Botts beans and Peter got a vomit-flavoured one! He nearly threw up on this girl he was flirting with. It was hysterical."

Peter mimed throwing up into his briefcase and grinned at James. The briefcase was shiny and new, a gift from his parents for outstanding marks. They clearly didn't know he had forged the report card. Remus smiled slightly at James's joke. Howled. It was funny, and he knew James was trying to be lighthearted, but he couldn't shake the sinking uneasiness in the pit of his stomach.

Snap out of it. Remus looked over at the opposite seats, at James and Peter playing chess on a small travel board with magnetic pieces. He looked beside him, and saw an empty seat. Remus felt a twinge in his chest. That seat was never empty. He thought back to his first year at Hogwarts. The first time he had met the other marauders. It had been a day like this one: clear skies, slight breeze. He was a terrified, scrawny first year, and when he stumbled through the carriage looking for a place to sit, Sirius burst out of the compartment he was sharing with James and Peter. "We've got room for one more!" he had exclaimed, pushing the long dark hair from his eyes and grinning.

Focus, he told himself. He was a fifth year now, and hardly the gangly, mousy kid he had been four years prior. Sometimes he still felt like it, though. Like when he would have to duck his head to stuff himself through doorways, his shoulders always getting stuck, his head always hitting the doorframe. Girls would swoon at the sight of him. Remus felt awkward and useless around girls, like the kid he used to be. He much preferred his friends to the superficial cliques of girls he, for some reason, attracted.

Remus started to get impatient. Where is Sirius? They always sat together. They were the marauders. Get a grip. it's your first day back, thought Remus, Please. Try to be normal. But the burning uneasiness in his chest got the best of him. He gestured at the door.

"Have you guys seen Sirius?" he asked, trying desperately to stop the acrobatics his stomach appeared to be doing. His friends' laughter came to an uncomfortable pause. James and Peter shared a look, one Remus tried, and failed, to decipher. He wondered, absently, if he could fit through the window and jump onto the fucking train tracks. He might just die of embarassment. It was clear that James and Peter were cringing internally. You're such a fucking idiot. Sirius doesn't like you.

"Er, yeah. I think he was in one of the compartments a few back, with... some friends from last year." said James tentatively, hiking a thumb behind him. Remus couldn't figure out why he looked so uncomfortable.

"Yeah," cackled Peter "He was hanging out with that girl Louise, the Welsh one." Remus's stomach sank. That's where he is. That's where he chose to go instead of to the compartment the marauders have shared every year on the way to Hogwarts. He could feel tears burning in his eyes, but forced them away. It's fine. It's not like Sirius would ever like him, anyway. You're deluding yourself if you think Sirius could ever take interest in you. He forced a laugh, pretending to listen to what James was saying. But no matter how hard he tried not to, no matter how much he tried to concentrate on James, all he could think about was Sirius.

He, now, remembered the time in fourth year when he fell off his broom during a quidditch match. He had had to get pins put in his arm to reset the bone. Remus remembered the way Sirius had brought him chocolate, the way he nudged Remus over and sat with him in the infirmary bed, barely big enough for one person, let alone two. He remembered how Sirius had laid back on the pillows, talking about how he had exploded a potion in Snape's face. And how Remus had fallen asleep to the faint sound of Sirius's breath against his cheek. He had known, then.

Remus's heart ached. He loathed that he loved Sirius the way he did.

—

The return to the common rooms after dinner was always a chaotic thing the first day back. James, the Gryffindor prefect, was assigned the ever-chaotic task of guiding the first years to their dormitories. As customary for prefects, James paid just enough attention the first years as he bounded up the stairs with his friends. James had a tendency of walking rather briskly, so Moony and Wormtail had to jog to keep up. The first years were practically running.

At this point, having not yet seen or heard from Sirius, Remus was going mad. He had no more patience, and he raged to his friends as they headed toward the dormitories, first years in tow.

"I just don't get it. Why would he ditch us? Doesn't he have anything better to do than snog some stupid Welsh girl?" yelled Remus, his arms knocking books out of first years' arms as he flailed them around, jogging alongside Prongs. James glared at him, picking a potions book off the ground and putting it back on a dangerously teetering pile that obscured a first years' face from view. He kept walking.

"You need to calm down. He ditched us, and that was— careful on the stairs— his decision. A shit, inconsiderate one, I may add, but I just don't understand why you're— keep up guys, the common room is right around the corner— so upset, Re." James struggled to corrall the children to the common room. "He's his own person. Besides, why do you care who he snogs?" Peter shot James a look, as if to say, you idiot, can't you see?

James had always been infuriatingly oblivious.

—

Gryffindor tower was always quiet at night, and Remus often took advantage of this. It was the first night of the year at Hogwarts. All the students were exhausted, gone to bed hours ago. Remus found solace in the common room in the early hours of the morning, before everyone awoke. James had used his prefect badge to get them a room just the four of them, one bed removed because of an unfortunate hex. James and Peter had finally found Sirius at one, chatting up a pretty blonde, Louise, in the Hufflepuff common room. They had dragged him back to Gryffindor a few hours ago, flushed pink and smelling of liquor. Remus had pointedly ignored his arrival, choosing instead to watch the fire.

He was embarrassed and angry at himself. How could I have let myself think he would ever like me? It's clear he doesn't, Remus ruminated. Usually he would only stay in the common room until one or two in the morning before returning to bed, but he couldn't bring himself to return to his room. Couldn't bring himself to face his friends. Especially not Sirius. With the exhaustion and the lingering emotion from the day's events, he didn't trust himself to be around Sirius tonight. Remus pulled his thick wool sweater tighter around him, trying to remedy the feelings of betrayal and emptiness. He couldn't believe he had been so foolish.

—

Remus awoke with a start, curled on a large red sofa by the fire. He looked groggily at his watch, displayed the time in bright blue font. 3:18. It was nowhere near time to start his day. What could possibly have woken him this early? The soft padding of socked feet on the stairs alerted him to another presence in the room. Who could possibly be awake? He looked up, and his heart damn near stopped beating. Sirius.

Sirius walked sleepily over to the armchair where Remus sat and squeezed himself in the empty space, nestling into Remus's arms. Moony's heart beat so fast he thought it might burst out of his chest. Sirius was half-asleep and still slightly buzzed, which made him much more amicable than he normally was. He wriggled under the blanket someone had thrown over Remus until his head was curled into the space below Remus's chin. He sighed contentedly.

"What you doing up, Re?" Sirius mumbled.

"Couldn't sleep." replied Remus. It wasn't completely a lie. What was Sirius doing? He never hung out with Remus one-on-one. And why do you think that would be, wise-ass? Remus thought. Maybe it's the not-so-secret crush you've had on him since second year. Could that perhaps be what deterred him? Sirius moved closer, nuzzling into Remus's chest.

"What are you doing up, Pads? It's pretty early." Remus murmured the question. He felt Sirius take a sharp breath, then sigh quietly.

"I... couldn't sleep. Thinking too much." Sirius's voice was heavy with sleep still unattained. Remus ached at Sirius's body pressed against his. He couldn't bear it.

"What are you thinking about that's kept you up this late?" Remus laughed softly, trying to break the slight heaviness that had settled over them. But Sirius tensed.

"I was— god, you wouldn't understand." Sirius muttered, his voice taking on an edge Remus was unfamiliar with. This was not the Sirius he knew.

"Yeah? Try me." Remus prodded at Sirius, trying to scrape away at the ice he used to protect himself. Sirius rolled over and sat up across from Remus on the couch. Remus, sleepy and not with all his wits about him, let himself stare. Sirius's eyes glinted in the warm light of the fire, his hair mussed and tangled. He still looked as beautiful as ever. Remus's eyes slowly surveyed him, catching at his collarbones peeking out from the too-big worn sweater he wore to sleep. A voice, more familiar to Remus without the icy edge, whipped him out of his musings.

"I just— I really like that girl. Louise. I do," Sirius seemed unnaturally vulnerable. He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "She's perfect, and I really do like her. But I can't help but think about someone else. Someone I don't want to think about. Someone I shouldn't be thinking about." Remus didn't understand Padfoot's cryptic messaging.

"Who can't you stop thinking about? Wormtail?" Remus laughed, but regretted his joke when he saw Sirius's lips purse.

"Nah. Not Wormtail." Sirius laughed drily.

"Well then who, Pads? I don't understand why you're being so cagey about some random girl." Remus said. He was done putting up with Sirius's cryptic coded messages.

"It's not a girl, okay? It's not a fucking girl, Moony!" Sirius snapped. "It's— fuck— you are unbelievably thick, you know, Remus."

"What are you even talking ab—" Remus began, before being interrupted by Sirius's lips against his. He felt all of it at once. Sirius moving to straddle his lap, hands around his waist. Remus's hand on his nape and his lips everywhere else. He kissed Sirius hungrily, years of yearning fueling him. Remus pushed Sirius against the sofa and kissed him, kissed him like it was the only thing keeping him alive, felt Sirius's hips against his, his lips form a smile against his own, Sirius's hands in his hair. Remus kissed his neck, his collarbone, every inch of his face.

When they separated, Remus looked at him, no longer keeping himself from staring. Sirius's face was flushed, the tips of his ears an unsightly crimson. Remus kissed him once more and laughed softly as Sirius slid under the blanket with him. He wrapped an arm around Sirius and squeezed him tight against his chest, breathing in his sweet aroma. Remus closed his eyes and rubbed small circles into Sirius's back until they both drifted off to sleep in the early hours of the morning. They slept there, tucked into each other, keeping each other safe from the world. And although both all elbows and knees and sharp edges, they found softness in each other's love.

—

The next morning, Remus woke to the sun shining into the common room. He rubbed his eyes, adjusting to the light. The fire in the hearth was reduced to white embers. Blearily, he sat up, remembering the night's events. He looked down at Sirius, still asleep, curled around where he had been sleeping. Sirius snored softly, asleep and oblivious to the world around him. Remus smiled gently, curling back around Sirius and tugging the blanket around them. What a way to start the year.

~~~

ignore me I am the tags

#remus x sirius #writer #wolfstar #hogwarts #wolfstar fanfics #harry potter #fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #marauders aesthetic #marauders headcanon #harry potter marauders #remus lupin #sirius black #wormtail #moony #padfoot #prongs #marauders fic #marauders fluff

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blankparchment · 5 years

Text

Imagine Sirius Black comforting you when you’re falling apart.

9. Everything was falling apart. “I’m fine.” They were, of course, lying. [x]

[trigger warning: for a kinda panic attack and the death of a family member (mentioned)]

War is hard. It's easy to ignore at Hogwarts. At Hogwarts your problems were the three-foot potions essay and boys and NEWTs and the house cup. But that isn't the real world. The real world is death eaters and war and Voldemort and blood purity bullshit. And the real world is that your brother died because he was on the wrong side of it.

You thought you'd know. You thought that if something like that ever happened, if your only living family ever died, that of course you'd know. You'd feel it. You would know something was off. You would feel sick or tired or scared or something because you had to feel something. There was no way your brother could leave this world without you knowing about it.

But he did. You were in the Great Hall when you got the letter. Between an overprotective brother and far more newspaper subscriptions than any girl had a right to have, you hadn't thought anything of it. You opened it, paying half a mind to it as you laughed at James' dramatic rendition of the first time he had asked Lily Evans out for tea. You picked up your glass of water as you pulled your attention away from James and onto your letter.

It is with great sorrow that we must inform you of the death of . . .

Your world froze. The glass slipped from your hand and shattered across the table. The entire table fell silent. But you didn't notice any of that. Your eyes were on the page.

The death of.

Death of.

Death.

And suddenly the war was very real. And the room was very cold. And you were very alone.

Lily was trying to talk to you. " . . . okay? Hey, just look at me. It'll be okay, I promise" and then, to someone else, "Did you see what happened? Why's she suddenly in shock?"

You clumsily shot to your feet, nearly tripping over the bench in your haste. "I need . . . I need air," you managed to say. The letter was crushed in your hand. The entire hall was whispering. Before you turned around, you even caught eyes with Dumbledore, who seemed to be staring with growing worry at the scene.

You fled. You didn't know where you were going at all. You took every turn you saw, in any direction. You didn't really care where you were going, except that you couldn't be there. So you went and you ran and ran until you were good and properly lost, and as soon as you reached a dead end corridor, you finally let yourself breathe.

He was dead. Your brother was dead. Your only living family. Gone. Murdered. Taken by a war that he never wanted any part of. He had always taken care of you. It had been you and him, it'd been that way for years. And now he was gone and you didn't even get to say goodbye. You hadn't seen him in months. You never would again. And it wasn't fair, he didn't do anything wrong, all he ever wanted was equality, and he was so good, so so good and taken by a war so so dark, and it was wrong and impossible and stifling and scary and it couldn't be true, please please don't let it be true, it's not, it's not, it's not, it's not, he can't be, you refuse to believe—he can't, he can't, he can't be gone—

You were crying before you even knew you believed it. Tears fell to stone. You remained standing, facing the wall at the end of the corridor, so alone, so very alone, always alone—

"Are you okay?"

It was Sirius. You almost wanted to laugh at the question. You leaned forward to brace one hand against the wall to keep your balance. You didn't turn to his him. You couldn't. He couldn't see you like this, crying and afraid and broken. Your hand was shaking against the wall. Your mind was spinning. Everything was falling apart.

"I'm fine." You were, of course, lying.

"You don't have to be," Sirius pressed cautiously. "It's okay if you're not."

You pressed your fist against your lips to prevent the choking sob you could feel rising in your throat. You closed your eyes. It's okay. He's not dead. He can't be dead. You'd know if he was. It can't be true. It can't be. It's not. They're lying. Lying. Lying. Lying. Please just let them be lying.

Your resolve shattered. Your knees fell weak under you. You collapsed.

"Shit!" Sirius muttered, and then suddenly he was beside you, so close, and he had a hand on your shoulder and he was shaking it, just enough to grab your attention, and he was so warm, so warm after all of the cold, and before you realised it you had wrapped your arms around him as tightly as you could, holding up like he was a lifeline.

"He's dead." Those were the only words you could get out.

Sirius stiffened and slowly, carefully, eased back and pulled out of the hug to look you in the eye. He didn't have to ask who you were talking about. The look in his eyes was so sad you were sure he knew.

"Y/N, I—I'm sorry." He didn't know what to say. You weren't sure if that was better or worse than what you had anticipated. Sirius always knew what to say. He always had a joke or an excuse or a comment. But for a moment he was as lost as you were, and for that moment you felt far less alone and slightly less afraid.

You wiped the tear tracks from your cheeks, as if they wouldn't quickly be replaced. And carefully, you slid back and out of his grip, moving over to lean against the wall. "I-I can't believe it. The letter says he's gone. But I can't believe it. He-he's all I have left, you know? And if he was gone . . . he just can't be. I'd know. I'd feel it. Or-or I'd have been there. He can't just disappear without a trace, that's not—that's not how it works." Your voice was shaky but you fought to keep it away. You wrapped your arms around your knees and clasped them together tightly to try to stop the shaking.

"I'm sorry," Sirius repeated. His eyes were glassy and his voice was oddly strained. He cautiously placed a hand on your arm. "But . . . but you know that's not true. We're at war, and . . . and well . . . I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault." You gave a bitter laugh and cut it off before it could become a sob. "It's not your fault so stop apologizing. You know what? It's fine. There's nothing to be sorry over. I never see him anyway, it's only two months and then I'm here and I don't see him until the next year. I-I'm nearly 17 now anyway, I own the house too. And he was too busy over Christmas for me to go over, so clearly we weren't close anyway, so you know what? I don't care. I don't care that he's de—" Your voice cracked.

"Hey, hey, hey," Sirius breathed. He tightened his hold on your arm so you'd look up at him. "Don't do that. You know you loved him, Y/N, and you can't just talk yourself out of it as soon as it gets hard. It's okay to just feel sad, alright?"

"I can't," you disagreed. "I can't be sad. We're at war, Sirius. And we're not on the winning side right now. Every minute I spend upset and moping is another minute that I'm not fighting. And I have to. I have to be strong. I have to stand up. I-I want to kill him. Whoever killed my brother, I want them dead. And I can't just sit here and cry and mope, because that won't get anything done!"

Abruptly, you shot to your feet. You almost lost your balance, but Sirius was quickly up beside you, a steadying hand on your arm.

"Y/N, stop!" Sirius shouted. You froze. He took a deep breath and then lowered his head. When he next spoke, it was gentle. "Do you hear yourself? Your brother is dead. You don't have to be strong. No one is asking you to be strong. Could you just take a moment and breathe? Look, you're not fighting this alone. We're all on the same side, and we are going to win. And it's not just on you."

You hadn't realized you were holding your breath. As soon as you began your first deep breath, all the tension dropped from your shoulders and you had to lean on Sirius for support.

"I-I don't know how to fix this, Sirius," you whispered. "I don't know what to do." You leaned your head on his shoulder as he guided you off to the side to lean against the wall. "He was all I had left."

Sirius put his arm around you and cleared his throat, taking a long moment before he spoke. "I was disowned in fifth year. I know it's not the same thing. But at the time . . . in the middle of everything else, all the chaos and all of the war, and the death eaters rising . . . it was hard." He swallowed and tightened his hold on you. "I always hated my mother. But my father was still in that house. And . . . and Reggie. I wasn't allowed home anymore. And I lost them all. All of my family was gone. And it sucked. But—but—I still had people. I still had James. And I still had all of my friends at Hogwarts. I still had you. It helps. I know it doesn't feel like enough right now, but it helps."

"I just . . . I just don't know how I'm ever going to be able to go back into that house," you said quietly. Your mind had settled to an eerie calm. Part of you knew it could never last, that something would happen and you would just burst, and all of your emotions would tear you apart, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Sirius nodded. "You won't have to do it alone. You can. But you don't have to."

You took a deep breath and nodded back. "I-I don't think I can do this much longer. I don't think I can be strong."

"You are strong. You are still standing here because you're strong. But," he leaned over and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "You don't always have to be. It's okay, Y/N. I promise it'll be okay."

Tagging @mistressoftorture

Note from the author: so that got away from me real quick. Can’t lie, I wrote this in about an hour in a desperate attempt to get out of a writing slump. Did it work? Couldn’t tell ya. But yikes. This was in some places really hard to write and in some places really easy, and I can tell based on my writing in some of these sections that it was a sLOG through some parts. Oh well.

ANYWAY, if you’d like to make requests, I love requests. I linked a prompt list in this one, so I’ll accept prompts from that list, any other list, or even just from your brain. Just give me an idea, some characters to use it on, and we’re golden ;)

Hope you enjoyed this one, hopefully I can write something less depressing next time around. And more Marauders centric. Like I said, I got carried away with this one. I definitely meant to focus more on Sirius. Whelp.

#imagine #oneshot #fic #sirius black #sirius x reader #marauders #requests #promptlist #prompt #angst #death #wizarding war #war #readerinsert #oc #james potter #lily evans #lily potter

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divinerot · 5 years

Text

i think that might be lysithea avery ; last time i saw her was in the slytherin common room . i heard she works as an unspeakable in the death chamber now . the twenty - one year old pure - blood apparently looks a lot like courtney eaton , though i have no idea who that is . some say she can be compelling and shrewd . although , i have heard she can also be haughty and impious . i have no idea what side she’s on , but if i had to guess , i would say death eaters .

hi i’m bailey & a lot of this is kind of open - ended bc i don’t wanna lock myself in too much / i am also just a forgetful dumb of ass , bt !! jhgfndjdjnhf i . i tried . it’s 3am , i’m tired . .. i started drafting some replies & such , bt unfortunately i don’t think i’m gonna get to them until later on simply bc my eyes are fighting me to stay open .

TW : death mention .

CHARACTER TROPES .

light is not good , badass bookworm , dark action girl , family honor , the proud elite , it amused me , sadist , mad scientist , putting on my thinking cap , kids are cruel / teens are monsters .

QUICK BACKGROUND .

one of the prestigious sacred twenty - eight , the avery’s have been renowned for many generations . the current head of family , claudien , is a potioneer , but most notably spent his own school days at hogwarts following around tom riddle — correction : the dark lord , voldemort — as ‘ inner circle ’ , later becoming one of the first knights of walpurgis / future death eaters .

born the thirtieth of april , lysithea’s father was disappointed she was not his long awaited heir . and unfortunately , the delivery was so much strain for her mother’s body that she ended up passing . despite being initially unwanted by her remaining parent , lysithea grew up well enough ; treated like any other child in their society , spoiled and rotten . eventually claudien remarried a few years after – he had high hopes his second wife would bear him sons . however those wishes fell flat as three more daughters cried out year after year , forcing themselves into the world , into this family .

no one quite knows when the shift in ideology happened , but claudien decided if he could not have what he wanted in a son , he would forge and make up for in a daughter . being the eldest , lysithea became his target .

perhaps she couldn’t traditionally carry on the family name , but she could prove a useful tool . a baby-face smeared with blood , the false purity of her white dresses contrasted against the black everyone else wore . with her signature silk ribbons , lysithea became a terror ; undoubtedly a sight to tremble before . under rosy cheeks and coy grins , a vicious and unyielding nature bloomed . cruelty came eerily natural to her , so much it even unnerved her step - mother , creating dichotomy between her and her half - sisters . it was a chaos born from boredom and a grandiose sense of self - entitlement . all because she could . all because her father nurtured her to flash sharp teeth after luring victims into a sense of security . she was raised in his image , a nightmarish testament to all his iniquity .

perfection , superiority , consistency : three main points to her father’s philosophy . ones she memorized as she watched him intently in his private potions lab , impressionable dark eyes following his every move . when lysithea turned eight , claudien took a deeper interest in guiding her to what it really meant to be part of the family : dark arts . she was excited , quickly becoming eager for more to learn . and , all things considered , it could have been worse . never once did claudien raise his wand to his daughter , as he didn’t need to . lysithea was always so willing , so wanting – ready to do as instructed , no matter the cost . from a young age , she wanted his approval and praise , but most of all she wanted his knowledge .

TIME AT HOGWARTS IN A GLANCE .

slytherin ! within moments of touching her wicked little head , the hat bellowed out her sorting . there was no surprise , most of her family had been clad green and silver as well . only a momentary falter to consider ravenclaw for the young avery , but it was unmatched how she would thrive with the serpents .

she was either too exuberant , her harsh laughter directed at another’s misfortune , or she was too silent , not speaking to anyone for days at a time . however pranks and jokes turned more severe , and her casual cruelty was something that placed many on edge . some might’ve said it was a blessing when she withdrew herself , others would’ve said it didn’t matter .

although horrid personality coupled with a pretty face aside , she was an excellent student . not even the staff who disliked her the most could deny that . she did above and beyond work in many subjects . a downfall , however , would sheepishly be her disdain of written work . she could talk about it flawlessly and she could execute it perfectly , showing a spell or potion in full action . but on parchment , she certainly left something to be desired — much to her biting chagrin . while written tests , quizzes , and exams were not her friend , she refused to give up . she would just need to get better .

lysithea often turned towards one of her favorite subjects for chaos inducing entertainment : potions . they’re only semi - poisonous , she’d say with a scoff , like being nonlethal canceled it out . it’s only putting them to sleep , she’d say with a shrug , as if it makes it justifiable . there was an empty classroom in the dungeons , presumably an older potion - mixing room . if her roommates became too bothersome , she would find herself there to brew in secret . between advanced potions and alchemy studies , lysithea picked up an interest in creating new things — but they were selfishly made for her sole benefit to torment her peers . some habits die hard , some habits don’t die at all . she was merely following in her father’s footsteps with unethical experimentation , only on a more junior scale unbeknownst to her . she wouldn’t know the full extent of anything until after her graduation . one could have also found her searching the forbidden forest if they were fast enough ; unofficial ingredients for unofficial brews came at some risk after all .

OTHER TIDBITS / INFORMATION .

really this whole thing has been tl;dr she’s really just a sadistic gremlin thanks to her father ig , but truthfully she would’ve turned out awful even without his influence .

upon graduation she received a dark mark , much to the pride of claudien .

works as an unspeakable in the death chamber , although often helps her father with potions on off days / when it comes to experimentation for lord voldemort .

her wand is blackthorn wood , wyvern skin core , hard , 9.5 inches ; a family heirloom of sorts , tracing all the way back to her great - great - great - great grandfather . she’s the first witch out of a long line of wizards to use it .

in her seventh year at hogwarts , her class list was : advanced potions , charms , transfiguration , dada , alchemy , and ghoul studies . she was also a participant in slug club and potions club since fourth / fifth year .

her patronus is nonexistent , as her true dark affiliation prevents her from casting the spell . however if she was able , it would take shape of a fox .

her astrology core four are as follows : taurus sun , capricorn moon , gemini ascendant , aquarius midheaven .

due to her mother passing during / after childbirth , lysithea could see thestrals before any activities , illicit or otherwise , had her bear witness to death .

prefers tea to coffee and has a secret sweet tooth .

moral alignment is somewhere between chaotic neutral and neutral evil .

#i couldn't find if there's an intro tag or not bt !! here we are aaaaaaa ...

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missnight0wl · 6 years

Text

Never say never

Summary: There was a time when Patricia Rakepick had a best friend.

Words: 2560

Patricia Rakepick was a wild child, full of ideas and energy. Her knees and elbows were usually abraded since she was always the first one to try new things, to get to unreachable places. Her parents had to constantly keep their heads on a swivel, yet their offspring’s rumbustiousness wasn’t what worried them the most. The problem was that she didn’t really have many friends. And it wasn’t even due to her social skills, or potential lack of them. There just weren’t a lot of kids in their neighbourhood. Not that Patricia seemed to be bored because of that reason. They simply felt it’s an important thing to take care of before sending her to school.

The Rakepicks lived in a small village, and a few houses closest to them were occupied either by elder people or couples with much younger children. Therefore, when the new family moved next door, Mrs Rakepick got quite intrigued. It turned out that not only were they wizards, but they also had a daughter.

“You know, Patty,” she said on Saturday afternoon while making tea. “I’ve met our new neighbours. They have a girl your age.”

The redhead took her eyes from a map she was sketching. “Uh huh,” she showed a polite interest.

“I think she’s even outside right now,” Mrs Rakepick continued, looking through the window. “Why wouldn’t you go to say hello?”

Patricia finally took a break from her activity and came closer to her mother. She quickly judged the situation, deciding it sounded like a good challenge. “All right,” she replied blithely. A moment later, she was putting on her shoes.

“Just be nice, sweet pea!”

“I’m always nice, mum!” Patricia yelled back before closing the door.

On one of two swings between houses was indeed sitting a dark haired girl. She was drawing some unspecific shapes on the ground with her foot. When she heard someone approaching, she raised her head.

“Hi, I’m Patricia Rakepick! I live next door,” the incomer introduced herself cheerfully with reaching gesture. “What’s your name?”

The brunette glanced at her rather surprised, yet she shook her hand. “Kathleen. Kathleen Adams.”

“So when did you move in?” The ginger took another place and immediately started to sway slightly.

“A couple of days ago...”

“And how do you like it here?”

“It’s kind of boring, to be honest,” Kathleen replied, wrinkling her nose.

“Well, yeah, if you’re just stuck on the swings the whole day.”

“What else you can do here?”

Patricia stopped abruptly, looking at the other girl with a smirk. “You can hunt for treasures, for example.”

“Really? What kind of treasures?” she asked, clearly intrigued and already in a better mood.

“I don’t know yet. But I’ve started some research. You can join me if you want.”

That was the day when Patricia and Kathleen became the best friends – because when you’re a child it’s as simple as that. From now on, whenever one moved, the other followed. The young witches loved their little adventures where two of them went against the whole world. They promptly become regular visitors in each other’s houses, although still the most fun they had outdoors.

One summer they were both sitting on a tree: Kathleen placed in a spot between the branches, Patricia hanging with her head down.

“What if I won’t get a letter at all?” the first girl worried.

“Don’t be silly,” the other one replied. “You’re a witch, Kathy. You have to go to Hogwarts. Besides, who’s gonna be my partner in crime if not you?”

Kathleen laughed. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll always be your partner in crime. Even if they won’t accept me, I’ll sneak into the castle so we could do some mischief.”

The redhead pulled herself up to look at her playmate. “Promise?”

“Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

The letter came a couple of days later. They both went to Diagon Alley, and later on the platform nine and three-quarters. They squeezed each other’s hands when Kathleen Adams was called as the first person during the Sorting Ceremony. The old hat was wondering for a bit, and then it announced: Gryffindor! Patricia got as excited as the older students at the red themed table – she already knew it’d be her house as well. After all, where else such young adventurer as herself could belong?

They quickly got known as talented pupils and creative pranksters. They were a pain for their teachers, and joy for other classmates. Despite the fact that both of them were popular among peers, they stuck mostly to their own company. There were moments when two of them weren’t causing troubles, but it was always only the calm before the storm, meaning they’re seeking the new excitement. Like that one time when Patricia had spent hours in the Library, winning Madam Pince’s heart with her exemplary quite behaviour.

“You’re not gonna believe what I’ve found,” the girl said to Kathleen, sitting next to her back in their Common Room.

“I’m probably going to believe anything you say, but go on.”

“Have you heard about the Cursed Vaults?”

“No, though I like the sound of that,” Kathy replied with a grin, leaning towards her friend.

“Oh, it’s getting better. Listen…”

The Vaults investigation wasn’t the easiest one, compared to their other treasure hunts. There was a lot of information missing, yet they kept coming back to it every now and then, even though other things were drawing their attention in the meantime. But then, everything started changing in the fifth year.

“I don’t understand why you wanted to be a prefect in the first place,” Kathleen said at the beginning of the term, clearly upset.

Patricia was laying on the couch, playing with her Puffskein. “Because I could. What else is there to understand?”

“So you’re fine with running around the castle, watching if first-years don’t break the rules?”

“You’re looking at this the wrong way, Kathy,” Rakepick replied, laughing. “It’s easier for us to break the rules when I’m the one in charge.”

The dark-haired witch glared at her companion. “There are still prefects older than you. Not to mention that you’ll have other responsibilities to fill your schedule.”

“Don’t worry, I have good time-management skills. And I promise I will definitely find time for you,” Patricia reassured her with a smile, but it didn’t seem to bring the results, so she decided to change the subject. “Hey, y’know, I’ve found something interesting about the Cursed Vaults. Apparently, there was that group of teachers…”

“Aren’t we too old for that, Patty?” Kathleen cut in.

“What…?”

“I don’t know. I sometimes feel like you’re way too serious about that whole thing.”

“But it might be very serious…”

The other girl only shrugged. “Anyway, I have something to do before curfew. We’ll talk later, okay?”

It left Rakepick speechless as she was staring at the fellow Gryffindor going through a round hole in the wall. She got used to being ignored by her teachers whenever she mentioned this subject, but never before by her best friend. Nonetheless, she wasn’t going to beg anyone for attention. It was probably the last time they talked about the Cursed Vaults before their graduation.

Patricia couldn’t really understand the change in her confidant. Of course, everyone knew that the fifth year is particularly stressful because of the O.W.L.s, however, there was more to that. Kathleen shouldn’t have been worried about her studies, they were almost equally good students – in Charms and Transfiguration she might be even a little better. Yet, they started growing apart. Kathy was hanging out with other classmates more often, and even though Patricia tried to accompany her at first, she soon got bored with girly gossips. And she rarely allowed for such situations.

Around this time, she got interested in a group of the first years: four Gryffindor boys, funny and quite gifted. They had a mischievous streak, so she dealt with them a lot as a prefect. Nevertheless, the chaos they created wasn’t what she enjoyed the most. She saw potential in them, and she discovered she got a lot of pleasure from mentoring them. She never really experienced it with Kathleen as their skills were usually comparable, and the girl was refusing lately to share further improvement. But surprisingly, guiding someone far less advanced brought Rakepick thrill similar to her own learning experience. She was gaining a new outlook on certain things as well. Among all of that, she didn’t give much thought to her closest relationship – at least until the summer holidays.

Perhaps it was thanks to a familiar homey atmosphere or the lack of other company. Perhaps Kathy needed consolation after the recent break-up. Or maybe it was related to the fact they both passed their exams really well, so they didn’t have to stress out over it any longer. Either way, the friendship between Patricia and Kathleen seemed to get back to normal. Their activities changed a bit, of course. They were teenagers now, after all. They realised, for example, that the nearby town had more attraction to offer, like weekly parties.

“So what d’you think about Eric?” Adams asked one time when they were walking near the sunflower field on their way back home.

Rakepick raised her eyebrow. “He’s all right, I guess.”

“Are you going to date him then?”

“What? No way!” the redhead chuckled.

“Why not? He’s a nice and quite handsome bloke.”

“And he’s a Muggle.”

“Crikey, since when you’re prejudiced like that?” Kathleen watched her carefully.

Patricia hesitated. “I’m not… Really. Just… What’s the point in wasting time on a relationship that leads to nowhere?”

“Because you couldn’t duel with him?” the brunette asked with a smirk.

“Among other things,” Rakepick admitted reluctantly.

“You don’t need magic for everything.”

“I need a challenge, Kathy, not snugging.”

“Well, you have friends to challenge you. Sorry, a friend, in your case.”

Patricia crossed her arms on the chest. “I do have friends beside you, y’know,” she teased the other witch.

“Oh, really? Name one. And those four Gryffindor kids don’t count.”

“Well… There’s Susan… And Alex…”

This time Kathleen laughed out loud. It was a calm and warm night, and there weren’t much sounds around them other than crickets. The girls were standing at the point where a path led to the Adams’ house.

“Maybe you’re right, Patty. Every boy will break your heart eventually. And I could never let anyone hurt you like that.” Kathy stepped closer to her companion. She was gazing at her for an instant in silence and then she leant forward to briefly kiss her lips. “See you tomorrow.”

Patricia remembered that moment when she was passing the same spot years later as a graduate student. Her relationship with Kathleen continued to be a real rollercoaster after that one summer. She often got irritated by her moodiness, and then she would focus on herself for weeks, only to get closer again later. Maybe it was sentiment, maybe a deeper connection they had. She was hoping it could finally stabilize now when they had their teenage years behind them. And that day was special in particular – Rakepick had just found out she would get her dream job as a Curse-Breaker in Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Her parents were out of town, but she decided that maybe it’s better. She could spend the night on the celebration with Kathy. She even bought a red wine.

It was dark in both houses, therefore she assumed the Adams were absent and walked straight to her own front door. After leaving her things in the hall, she went to the living room. She lit some candles with a hand gesture and smiled with satisfaction. In spite of being a simple spell, it felt rewarding to see she’s getting the hang of wandless magic. She opened the window, but when she turned back, she got startled.

“Blimey, you scared me! I didn’t hear you enter,” she gasped with relief.

“I saw you coming home, and I was on my way back too, so I followed,” Kathleen explained.

Patricia moved to the cabinet, searching for some glasses. “Well, it’s quite fortunate, because I was hoping for some shared time anyway. I got good news from Gringotts, and you could tell me about your Auror training, y’know. It’s been a while since our last meeting…” She only now noticed that the witch is holding her wand. “… but that’s not why you’re here, is it?”

Kathleen smiled gently and stepped into the room. “Tell me, Patricia, how far did you get in your investigation for the Cursed Vaults?”

“Why? I thought you’re not interested in such stories anymore,” Rakepick replied calmly.

“Did you find any information about the organisation called R?”

“Please, don’t tell me you were so stupid.”

Kathleen slowly walked closer. Her thick dark hair was contrasting with the red robe. She seemed to be very composed.

“No, we both were stupid back at school,” she noted, still grinning. “We could’ve done so much more if only we had proper guidance. Just think where we could be now. All that knowledge, all that power… But maybe it’s not too late, for both of us.”

Patricia was trying to access the situation. Her wand was left in the hall. She wouldn’t do much in a fight without it, and the chances for reaching it fast enough were small. She didn’t expect she’d need to defend herself in her own home, protected by the Fidelius Charm. She could merely play for time now. “So what now? You’re going to force me into joining too?”

“I know you can’t be forced into anything,” Kathleen got a bit tensed. “You always do what you want, don’t you? And you do it with such ease. I had to work so hard to keep up with you, yet you were still better. The most talented, the smartest, the prettiest… And you think you’ll achieve everything alone, but you’re wrong...” She paused, struggling with her thoughts. “But you still can put it to good use, Patty! We both can! We’d be together again, partners in crime, two of us against the world.”

“I’m not gonna be a fucking puppet…” Patricia spat with contempt. “Listen to yourself! Do you really think we’d matter to them? Do you believe in their promises? You’re better than that…”

“Don’t make it harder than it already is.”

“You’re the one who made it hard enough when you decided to betray me!”

“Oh, because you’re so moral, right?”

The redhead tried to contain herself, but the emotions were overwhelming. “I trusted you!” she yelled, unconsciously clutching her fists.

“Did you, really?”

Rakepick was a split second too slow and she didn’t manage to dodge the spell which bound her wrists and legs. She lost her balance and fell to the floor.

“You don’t have to do this, Kathy…” she said with a barely noticeable sign of panic in her voice.

“I’m afraid I do. I’m so sorry, Patty.” Kathleen approached her childhood friend. There was a glint of sadness in her eyes when the warm light reflected in them. Patricia, however, couldn’t really tell what was the reason for that. She couldn’t think at all. She just waited to hear the incantation of the curse. “Crucio!”

A terrifying scream broke the silence of the evening.

#hogwarts mystery #hphm #patricia rakepick #hphm oc #kathleen adams #hphm r #cursed vaults #pre hphm #my writing

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alorssouris · 6 years

Text

Verse/AU Masterlist ;; (a comprehensive list of current verses i have for most muses on this blog for reference)

Asahi ;;

deaf/hoh au : asahi is hard of hearing from birth, getting implants only when he gets to middle school when he discovers volleyball and desperately wants to play on an actual team. he only wears them when playing or in class, however, and most of his teammates have learned at least simple signing to help make him comfortable because he still finds it a little overwhelming after not hearing for so many years.

superpower/bnha au : asahi is best described as a healer, though in a deeper sense what he can do is actually use his powers to rewrite and boost the body’s natural ability to heal. it can also be used in an offensive manner, to both control or halt a body’s movement, but he refuses to use it for that. the power attracted quite a bit of attention, and not always the good kind, which causes him a bit of trouble over his years of schooling. he’s currently keeping a low profile after graduation, though he tries to help where he can.

werewolf au : asahi is a werewolf who was bitten as a teenager. he’s very timid, and refuses to go out if there’s even a chance he’ll turn out of fear of hurting or biting anyone else. currently living with hunters suga and daichi, who are aware of what he is but also that he’s no harm to anyone and therefore there’s no need to be worried.

royalty au : asahi is the only son of the king and queen of a failing kingdom. his father tries his best, but things were already going poorly when he took over and it’s slowly falling into chaos, both from its people and outside forces trying to take advantage of it. asahi finds himself caught up in the middle rather often, most people not too happy with the idea of the ‘soft’ prince taking charge if something were to happen to his father, though those close to him are aware of his inner strength and believe he could be the change their kingdom needs.

pacific rim : asahi is a physically impressive pilot with a bit of a mental weakness that makes him difficult to drift with. early on in his career he had a major fight that ended with both him and the other pilot badly injured when he nearly fell out of the drift mid-battle, and he ended up briefly retiring until he was convinced to come back and try again.

hogwarts au : sorted into hufflepuff, currently chaser on his team; which does surprisingly well, and mostly because of him, though he doesn’t really see it.

Break

modern/reincarnation au : break is one of the few who remembers clearly everything that happened in his old life, and still maintains a bit of connection the powers of the abyss. he is blind from birth, however, and considers this to be a punishment for everything he’d done in his previous life. he is also diabetic and has an incredibly weak constitution, but is stubbornly independent and tries not to let any of it show. he currently lives with the rainsworth family and works for them.

superpower/bnha au : break has the power to nullify someone’s abilities for a brief time, although he has to be able to touch their bare skin to do so. he’s also proficient with his sword-cane and uses it to take advantage of his opponents once they’re fumbling without their powers. it doesn’t work very well against physical powers, of course. he currently works as a hero under the name “mad hatter”

Courfeyrac

blindverse : courfeyrac loses his vision at a rally when he’s hit over the head, damaging the nerves, and is unlikely to ever regain it. he’s adjusting, but not very steady on his own yet, after a little while he does start learning braille and gets a guide dog so he could go out on his own, a golden retriever named marguerite (maggie). he’s not exactly happy about what happened and generally feels useless and down about it.

superpower/bnha au : courfeyrac has the power to manipulate weather, both to either just make it warmer or colder, or make is rain or storm, as well as causing gusts of wind, etc. it’s tied mostly to his emotions and he doesn’t have very good control over it.

the 100 au : is one of the original 100 sent to the ground. is the second son born to his parents, who gave him up to another family member so he wouldn’t be discovered.

royalty au : courf is a servant to the prince. his father was a noble who refused to admit that he had slept with a serving woman, tricking his mother into believing she’d be fired from her position if she said anything. courf has strong beliefs against the way nobility treated people they believed were beneath them, and it tends to get him into a bit of trouble.

hogwarts au : sorted into gryffindor, eventually becomes prefect, and then head boy of his house. well loved, a pureblood who most certainly believes that it doesn’t make him better than anyone else.

Gilbert

modern reincarnation au : gil doesn’t have any of his memories of his previous life. him and vincent were brought up in an orphanage until he was adopted by oscar (who did have his memories) and taken into their home. he moves out a little after he turned 18, and went into training to be a police officer, currently working as a security officer in a large office building to make some money in the meantime. despite not having his memories, he has one of the strongest connections remaining to the abyss.

superpower/bnha au : has a teleportation ability, where he makes little portals to travel from point to point. he has to have an idea of where he’s going in mind when he does so, and his range is only within a few miles. it’s a physically exhausting power, but very useful in emergency situations.

vampire/hunter au : gil and vincent are born with vampire blood, but aren’t full vampires. gil is meant to be the next leader of the vampires, depite his lack of being one himself, and when vincent finds out they’re planning on turning him he makes a deal with a witch to get gilbert away. eventually gil ends up at the vessalius household, and joins the pandora organization as a vampire hunter, unaware of his past.

hogwarts au : hufflepuff, raised in the vessalius family. one year ahead of oz, two in front of vincent. becomes prefect easily in his fifth year.

Noé

modern au : a young vampire whose entire family line was killed when he was a child, and was taken in by his teacher and kept isolated from the human world. eventually goes off on his own, and is constantly fascinated and confused by most things human, which tends to get him in a bit of trouble.

Yuuri

pacific rim au : joined the program out of an admiration for viktor along with his best friend, yuuko. after a fight which left her injured and unable to continue he nearly withdraws entirely from the program; until viktor, who had currently been paired with yuri, sought him out at home after following his story on the news. he could see potential in yuuri, and didn’t think he deserved to stay benched on the sidelines. currently drift compatible with both viktor and yuri interchangeably, though he drifts with viktor more often for obvious reasons.

superpower/bnha au : yuuri is an empath, who can both sense and feel the emotions of others as well as effect them, able to calm people down or make them feel better. it takes a bit of a toll on him, and he doesn’t like to be in heavily crowded spaces very often. it’s not a very offensive power, and he tends to stay at the sidelines.

royalty au : yuuri is the prince of a small kingdom, with very little pressure on his shoulders since his sister will end up taking the throne when the time comes. has a major crush on viktor, the prince of a much larger kingdom a little ways away, and eventually marries him.

#;; asahi #;; break #;; courfeyrac #;; gilbert #;; noe #;; yuuri #i'm sorry this is 90% of what i talk about #i just!!! love all the aus i've crafted so much!!!!#there are more listed on some of these muses' pages but they're a bit less fleshed out/used #long post

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21stcenturyyfoxx · 3 years

Text

Here We Go: A Muggle’s Fight

Summary: Four muggles are sent letters from Hogwarts. 10 years too late. Welcome to years 8-12 of Wizarding school.

Setting: Harry Potter’s fifth year. 1995.

“How’s your wrist?” Michael matched your steps, the tandem of rushing bodies to get to the next class; an ironic synchronicity. All trying to escape one leader.

“Painful.” You stated through gritted teeth, a red hot pain laid bare with the carving ‘mudbloods shall not speak’ etched in your soft skin, blood caking the outer border.

You had already been stopped once on your way to the bathroom, tears falling and blood flowing down your clenched fist; a young Slytherin spat the heinous word to you with a glare that could rival the sharpest dagger.

Amanda had ran to your side, a brave Hufflepuff, a friend. Her arms instinctively coming around your shoulders guiding you; now walked beside you along with Michael; a Gryffindor. The end of the tight-knit group was Eric the Ravenclaw; you rounded it out, Slytherin.

Splitting up in this treacherous time was a nightmare; the four of you were easy targets — muggles. Muggle born.

—-

The crowd had garnered attention, Professor Trelawney was in shambles.

McGonagall and Snape were holding her upright.

The swear words of some students flying by ears, eyes wide with shock.

Umbridge stood there with a prideful smirk.

The next blow, however, is what set chaos into motion.

“The four muggles are hereby expelled, effective immediately. Signed by the Ministry of Magic.” A high pitched giggle erupted from the plump lips of the interim headmistress.

“You can’t do that!” Snape, the Head of House for Slytherin exclaimed, boldly.

Loud shouts of protest heard, falling on deaf ears.

You charged to Umbridge.

”You are disgusting, choke.” Your hotheaded ways besting you; at this point Severus had to pull you away.

“Expelled, Ms. Y/L/N.” She seethed.

“Not if I can help it, Professor…” a voice broke through the barrier of students.

Dumbledore.

A/N: under review/ republishing w/ changes to come.

#series #harry potter #professor snape #au #order of the phoenix #albus dumbledore #dolores umbridge

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sleepydrarry · 7 years

Note

hello fellow hufflepuff! do you have any recs that feature lots of magical theory and/or cool adaptations to 'classical' magic? I love reading about people's interpretations of jkr's magic and taking it a step further.

Hi there Hufflepuff friend!!

YES I DO. This is one of my favorite themes! I’m very interested in magical theory and all the incredibly fascinating & creative ideas people come up with.

Drarry + magical theory

• All Our Secrets Laid Bare by firethesound (149k)Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on. (I feel like this is the mother of magical theory fic, what with the really interesting work on dismantling Death Eater safe houses, the descriptions of Harry’s wild powerful magic vs Draco’s very controlled magic, WANDLESS magic, magical tattoos, and the everyday work and practices of the Auror force.)

• and Hope to Die by olimakiella (24k)Strategically placed pieces of Wizarding artwork are going missing in the United Kingdom. Only, when the dots are connected to a darker plot, Harry learns that there are classified places in the Ministry that only few people get to see. And just what the hell is the Centre of Magical Intelligence anyway? (I LOVE the idea of Draco running his own department that deals with creating and managing magical inventions and spells for the Ministry. He has a sentient ball of blue light named Blue following him around. Lots of cool things.)

• Chaos Theory by Tessa Crowley (102k)Chaos: when the present determines the future, but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future. One gene varies, one neuron fires, one butterfly flaps its wings, and Draco Malfoy’s life is completely different. Draco has always found a certain comfort in chaos. Perhaps he shouldn’t. (Clever and brilliant are both words that accurately describe this fic. Advanced physics, chaos theory, strange attractors, mathematics, and so on, used in a magical context. The Imperius Curse… oh, and this fic will ruin your life.)

• Reparations by Sara’s Girl (87k)Harry is about to discover that the steepest learning curve comes after Healer training, and that second chances can be found in unexpected places. (This fic is amazing in every way there is, but it also has some very cool magical theory and world-building. Namely lot of content about Healers, medical procedures, work at St Mungos, magical drugs and the treatment of addiction.)

• Azoth by zeitgeistic (88k)Now that Harry is back at Hogwarts with Hermione for 8th year, he realises that something’s missing from his life, and it either has to do with Ron, his boggart, Snape, or Malfoy. Furthermore, what, exactly, does it mean when one’s life is defined by the desire to simultaneously impress and annoy a portrait? Harry has no idea; he’s too busy trying not to be in love with Malfoy to care.(Harry and Draco attempt to make a Philosopher’s Stone as a final project for their apprenticeships, which is super interesting. Alchemy, Animagi, advanced Potions studies, details on higher education in the magical world, and so on.)

• A Thousand Beautiful Things by geoviki (104k)Draco Malfoy struggles with changed fortunes, shifted alliances, an ugly war, and an unusual spell, with the help of a concerned professor, an insightful house-elf, and an unexpected Gryffindor friend.(A war and post-war fic with lots and lots of great interpretations. More about Legilimency, a certain heartbreaking Spanish curse, how to handle Obliviate, as well as a very good take on Lucius Malfoy’s fanatic interest in dark magic.)

• Eternally Consistent by kitsunealyc (44k)Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter assumed they would never be anything but civil enemies, until Potter lands on Malfoy’s doorstep, bleeding, covered in curses, and acting very strangely indeed. (Unbreakable!Draco who makes “paradox his bitch”, works with advanced physics and Arithmancy, lots of interesting things there, and time-travelling!)

• House Proud by astolat (23k)His house liked Draco Malfoy more than him.(This author is excellent with the creative details, and this fic is my favorite of theirs. I love the insight on pureblood traditions and most especially pureblood family houses and they magic they hold. Harry moves into Grimmauld Place and the house deteriorates in protest, while it adores the ground Draco walks on.)

• Secrets by Vorabiza (411k)Beginning with Draco’s unexpected arrival at the Dursleys, Harry’s summer after sixth year becomes filled with activity and many secrets. As his summer progresses, Harry generates several unexpected allies as he finds himself actively becoming the leader of the Light side. (Alternate version of the seventh book written before the book was released, so this has all kinds of interesting interpretations on Horcruxes, Parseltongue, defensive magic including the Interseptum spell, invisibility cloaks, house elf magic, the Chamber of Secrets, the DADA teaching position curse etc.)

• Harry Potter and the Sentinel Phenomenon by elyssblair (122k)Everything changes the summer after fifth year. Draco refuses to take the Dark Mark and must deal with leaving behind the life, friends and family he’s always known.The Dursley’s abandon Harry alone in the woods for a week, triggering his Sentinel gifts and leaving him hurting and in need of a Guide. Can two rivals put aside five years worth of antagonism in order to work together to save Hogwarts and each other?(I’ve read this one so many times, because the love story is beautiful and the magic oh-so-fascinating. The writing isn’t its strongest point, but if you can look past that, it’s very worth it. Sentinel/guide AU, shamanism, souls wandering through different dimensions, soul bonds, all these super cool things.)

• The Fall of the Veils by lettered (60k) This is the fic where Muggles find out about wizards, wars are fought, Apparition is abolished, political conspiracies abound, Draco is asexual, and Harry has Legilimency sex with him.(I can’t properly put into words how much this fic breaks my heart, but it’s also really really interesting. This is the veils falling and wizardkind and magic being exposed to careless muggles. Theory on how magic actually works, details on Apparition and how to “disable” it, how muggle technology can imitate and influence magic, including wands. Lots of intriguing ideas.)

Bonus:

• Transfigurations by resonant (40k)Five years after Voldemort’s defeat, Harry returns to England to help re-open Hogwarts.(This fic has some of the most fascinating magical theory I’ve come across, it has stayed with me for YEARS. There are traps and curses all over Hogwarts since the war and they are trying to get rid of them. We are introduced to AMAZING things such as the magic behind the Dark Marks, calligromancy, and synergy spells, as well as some cool details about spell pronunciation. I’m putting this as a bonus though since the fic unfortunately isn’t to my taste aside from the magical theory part. But to each their own, and it’s a bit of a classic I guess.)

#drarry #drarry fic rec #draco malfoy #harry potter #magical theory #long post #my recs #it's been too long i know #but i loved this prompt

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ellie-e-marcovitz · 11 months

Text

One: The Winding Road to Hogwarts

prev.

Monday, 1 September 1890

Cyrus's pov

He rubbed at his cheek, sitting up and dazedly trying to remember what had happened.

Oh, right.

A dragon. Some dark magic. A ministry official, dead. And a destroyed carriage, including schoolbooks and other supplies.

All he had was his wand, his owl (which had flown off), and the ability to see Thestrals. Not the best way to kick off his arrival at a new school.

Speaking of which…

A potion bottle… vial… had appeared in his line of sight, filled with a somewhat familiar potion.

“Wiggenweld?” he asked, voice rough, belatedly realising he’d been screaming before the portkey had whisked him and Professor Fig off to wherever they were now.

“Indeed, Mr. Northrup.” Came Professor Fig’s voice from above him. He gratefully took the small bottle, downing half of it in a gulp, before finishing it off.

Looking around, he took in their surroundings, not entirely hearing what Figg was talking about. Most of the soreness was fading, as the Wiggenweld kicked in, allowing him to catch what Professor Fig was saying.

“…A typical dragon would never -!”

“Professor?” he asked, interrupting Professor Fig’s flustered rant about the dragon. “Sir, where are we? Exactly?”

It’s coastal, wherever they’re at, plenty of water, and salt in the air. Waves crashing against rocks, a sound he knew all too well.

“…I’m not sure,” Fig admitted. “But that key you discovered was clearly a portkey…”

He pushed himself to stand, the space spinning slightly. “Isn’t that something enchanted to bring someone to a specific place?” He breathed deep, letting his brain catch up with his body.

Professor Fig nodded. “Exactly, Mr. Northrup. Glad to see that you’ve paid attention.” A brief pause, as he steadied himself.

“I’m feeling better, professor,” he murmured. “If you’d like to look around a bit.”

Professor Fig nodded. “I would.” His expression grew serious. “But stay close. We have no idea who created this portkey – or why they did so.”

Beckoning for him to follow, Professor Fig started off towards the entrance to the cave they were in.

He quickly caught up with him, emerging out onto a cliffside, looking out over a vast stretch of water, possibly the ocean. Straight in front of them, sticking out of the ocean on a rock pile, was some kind of ruins.

“How far did that portkey take us?” he asked, pausing with Professor Fig close to the edge of the cliff. He was vaguely reminded of the New England coastline. Except for the large ruins jutting from the water, it was almost familiar.

“Farther from London than the carriage travelled…” Professor Fig noted, looking around. “It seems we’re somewhere in the Scottish Highlands.”

He pointed at the crumbling ruins across the water. “Sir… those ruins? Do you think…?”

“…that the portkey was meant to lead us there? I do.” Fig agreed, shouting a little over the waves. “This has not been the day either of us expected.”

Professor Fig’s expression grew deeply serious. “But Miriam sent that portkey to George for a reason. And I have to believe that she – and now, George – died in pursuit of whatever it was meant to lead to in the first place.”

A scrutinising look. “If you’re sure you’re all right, and wouldn’t mind indulging me… I’d like to have a look around myself.”

He nodded. “Absolutely, sir.”

“Good.” There was a note of excitement in Fig’s voice. “Let’s see if we can find a path… However faded it might be.”

He looked off to the right, noting the ragged fabric flags trailing off in that direction. “It seems to be to our right, sir.”

Professor Fig glanced in the same direction. “Good observation. Follow me.”

They moved from the edge of the cliff, close to the face, a faded stone trail marking their way.

“Mind your step,” Fig called back, as he followed, dodging the loose bits of stone and possibly porcelain decorating the ground.

“Professor!” he called, trying to keep up. “Where do you suppose your wife got the portkey that brought us here?” For all the grey hair Professor Fig had, he was in remarkably good shape.

“A good question,” Fig replied, pausing long enough for him to get closer. “Miriam spent years searching for evidence of a long-forgotten form of ancient magic.” A small cliff face scaled, they continued.

“Ancient magic?” he asked, feeling confused. The small cliffs were getting taller.

“Yes,” Professor Fig acknowledged. “A powerful magic, only wielded by a rare few… and one that seems to have been lost to time.” Another pause, and the path sloped around and down, back towards the sea.

Hopping down another few ledges, Professor Fig continued, “Hogwarts castle, where you’ll be attending, was built by, and itself a stronghold of, that ancient magic.”

He was surprised by that fact, nearly face-planting in a patch of grass from a mistimed jump.

“I don’t know where she came into possession of the portkey,” Professor Fig continued, once he’d rightened himself. “But I am certain it was to do with that search.” They moved closer to the edge again, trying to find a hint of where the path might lead. “Ah,” Professor Fig exclaimed, spotting it again. “There’s the path down below.”

He edged closer. He could just make it out in a gap. Professor Fig pointed to the right. “This way.”

Part of him suspected that there used to be stairs here, as he pushed himself up. “But sir,” he asked, following Fig further along the path. “Why was your wife searching for evidence of this lost ancient magic?”

Professor Fig glanced back. “Miriam wanted to understand why such powerful magic had disappeared from the wizarding world… she spoke of the good it could do. Jump down,” he added, before making a leap down.

“Whoa!” he shouted, making the same leap, landing with a groan. “Ow.”

“But magic isn’t any different than any other power,” Fig continued, hopping down another couple ledges. “What really matters is the one who wields it, and the choices they make in using it.”

He nodded, being careful to not land too hard.

Only to face what seemed like ice blocking their path. “Is that ice, professor?”

Professor Fig shook his head. “No, it’s not cold enough here.” He approached the mirror-like blockage. “It appears to be some kind of… enchantment.”

Something about it tingled at his senses.

“Someone wanted to block the path…” Professor Fig muttered, scrutinising the magic. “Let’s see some that wandwork I had you practicing. Focus on the centre.”

He nodded, pulling out the wand he was having to borrow. It still felt weird being able to have a wand with him over the summer months. A flick of his wand, cracks appeared. Another, and it shattered like a mirror.

He closed his eyes, hands in front of his face. Fig seemed to be doing the same, as he opened his eyes.

“Excellent,” came Professor Fig, and he relaxed slightly. “Now, come on.”

Fig hurried forward, almost immediately sliding down a sloped bank of earth. “Whoa!”

He wasn’t much farther behind. “Whaa-!”

“That was a bit rougher than I expected…” Fig noted as they both got to their feet. “Mind your step, the stone seems to be slick up ahead.”

He nodded, before following Professor Fig further into the cliffside.

Rounding the corner, and thankfully not trying to climb the slab of rock above, they reached what almost seemed like a dead end. Nothing but the ocean and crumbling stone in front of them.

“Professor? Where-?” he started, but was cut off by Fig exclaiming, “Ah, up there,” and pointing behind him. Another small cliff face to scale.

Not as small as he’d hoped, as they scrambled up it. Fig seemed more energetic the closer they got. “We’re close now… It’s just ahead!”

Managing to stay close, the ruin filled the view ahead. Despite its ruined appearance, it still seemed quite stately.

As they approached, the wind coming off the ocean picked up.

“Steady yourself!” Fig shouted over the gale, bracing against the wind. He did so, creeping forward and trying not to get blown off. “Reparo!”

He gasped, as huge chunks of rough and hewn stone flew through the air, coming together to form a bridge across the crashing water below.

He paused as the last few pieces fell into place, before hurrying after Professor Fig.

Neither of them said a word, as they hurried across, and up the wind beaten stone steps. He wished there was some kind of railing, though suspected they had been destroyed over however many years this place had been abandoned.

“Almost there!” Professor Fig called out, hurtling up the handful of stairs that remained, and into the decaying ruin itself.

“Whoa…” he gasped. Despite the centuries, there were several walls still standing, blocking the worst of the wind, even as plants wove their way into them.

There was something hauntingly magical about this place, in a way that made him even more curious as to why it was here in the first place.

“Why would someone build this here?” he asked, the question escaping before he could stop it.

Professor Fig seemed equally contemplative. “I suspect they valued their privacy,” he observed, taking in the room at large. “But the portkey led us here for a reason… Let’s have a look around, for anything that seems… out of place.”

He nodded, looking around himself. An odd sense was telling him whatever they were looking for was nearby. He pulled his wand out, not sure what to expect.

Better safe than sorry.

He flicked it several times, feeling the need to practice ‘basic cast,’ figuring it might come in handy. Something on the far wall drew his attention.

Approaching, the weird lines resolved into a carved mural of a man, studying the cards in front of him. “Professor… it’s, well, it looks like a mural of some kind…”

“Hmm…” Professor Fig approached where he stood. “Perhaps our host was a noted Seer. That is interesting…”

Moving out of the professor’s way, he explored further. Something vaguely interesting sat near where they entered, though it was hard to say if it was a trunk or another vase.

Continuing, he found a statue of the same man depicted in the carved mural. “Professor!” he called. “This statue…”

“This may have been his home!”

He nodded to himself, looking around further. The feeling of …whatever it was, grew stronger as he continued further into the ruins.

Pausing in the middle of the archway, he found a narrow and partially destroyed path leading to another part of the ruins. Shrugging, he continued forward, the feeling growing stronger and stronger with each step.

Hurrying up the short flights of stairs, he noticed a flash of sunlight glint off the stone building, which seemed to become mirror-like, much like the enchantment they’d encountered earlier.

There’s that enchanted, crystallised stone again… But what could it be blocking here? He wondered, carefully approaching it. What’s this…? “Professor Fig?!” he called, not sure where in the ruins the professor was currently.

Thankfully, it seemed Professor Fig hadn’t strayed too far behind him and his exploring. And, this time, they approached the enchantment close enough to see their reflections in the room behind it.

“How odd… Why would someone have conjured that enchanted stone here?”

Wait, what? A room? “And how is there a room behind it?”

“What room?” Professor Fig seemed unable to see it. “I don’t see anything.”

A glimmer caught his attention, as he stepped back. “There’s that glow again… like the glow on the portkey container.” Which had vanished as the remainder of the carriage had been torched by the dragon, while they fell.

Something about it implored him to touch, right where the odd torch design lay. So he did.

The magic from the enchantment seemed to crash down onto both of them.

“What in Merlin’s name-!” Professor Fig exclaimed, as the stone wall seemed to shift. Turning around, it took everything for him to not swear.

“Godric’s heart!”

“…Where are we?” he asked, feeling unbalanced. Surely not…

“I don’t believe it…” Fig muttered, surprised. “It’s Gringotts…”

He blinked, then blinked again. How? How did we get back to London?

They cautiously approached the sleeping goblin, still wrapping their minds around the wild circumstances.

“Hello?” he asked, to no avail.

Fig cleared his throat, once, twice, the third time loud enough to wake him. “A-hem.”

“Oh!” the goblin startled, detaching himself from the ledger upon which he had been napping. He leaned over said ledger, realising that there were people in front of him. “It can’t be. Erm, just a moment.”

He promptly scrambled down from his perch. Reaching the floor, he promptly gave a short bow. “Welcome,” he said, “to Gringotts Wizarding Bank.”

He and Professor Fig shared a look.

“Vault number twelve, I presume?” the goblin asked. Professor Fig gave a short nod.

“Precisely.”

“The key?” the goblin asked, holding out his hand.

“Your wife’s portkey?” he asked Fig.

“Oh, yes! Of course…” He fished out the small, metal object, before handing it over to the Gringotts goblin.

Taking it, the goblin pointed to his right. “This way, then.”

Fig paused briefly before following the goblin. “Stay close. Unfortunately, we’re in Ranrok’s territory, being here.”

He nodded at that, remembering the headline before the dragon attacked, before following Professor Fig.

Reaching a platform that had been embedded, the Gringotts goblin whistled into the cavern. That was followed by an odd rattling noise and a metal cart arrived out of the nearby tunnel.

It came to a stop, and the Gringotts goblin turned to face him. “After you.”

He carefully took the right hand seat facing the atrium area, figuring it would be easier to get off from there. Professor Fig, the seat to his left.

“Keep your hands inside the cart,” the Gringotts goblin mentioned as he settled into the driver’s chair. “If you don’t wish to lose them.” The goblin gave a menacing chuckle, that did nothing to sooth whatever nerves were affecting him now.

It was a curvy, gravity-defying ride that left him feeling nauseous at times. “How many vaults are there in Gringotts?” he asked, trying to avoid focusing on the wild ride he was currently on.

“Hundreds,” the Gringotts goblin replied, clearly at ease with the hairpin turns and moments of disorientation. “In fact, you’ll see quite a few on our way to vault twelve. As it is, we’ve just passed beneath the main lobby. The vaults here are some of the newest ones.”

“Are private entrances to the bank common at Gringotts?” Professor Fig asked, picking up on his distraction method, and clearly wanting to know more.

“They are most uncommon. Only a person with great wealth, or power, or both could have arranged for such a service,” came the reply, before the track dropped into a steep dive, one that had him holding onto the cart for sheer life.

“You’ll want to take a breath.” The banker continued, as if the drop was an everyday occurrence.

He felt like being sick, not holding his breath. Then they plunged into a waterfall.

“That waterfall,” Professor Fig gasped. “Washes away all enchantments. It’s one of the security measures here.”

“Experienced the Thief’s Downfall before, have you?”

“I’ve certainly heard of it.” Fig replied.

Another drop. “These are the lower vaults we’re passing now.” The goblin noted, as a row of vault doors flickered past.

“How low are we going?” he asked, still reeling from the impact of the waterfall.

“Vault number twelve was commissioned shortly after Gringotts was founded,” the Gringotts goblin noted. “Which was over four centuries ago. Thus, it resides in the deepest part of the bank.”

He glanced back just when the banker gave a wide smile. “Settle in… We’ve got quite a distance to go…”

It was silent for the majority of the ride, as he tried to focus on the track ahead, rather than the movement of the cart.

Until they pulled into a flatter part, and were stopped by another goblin, this one in a guard’s uniform.

“Vault number?” he asked, more of a growl.

He noted, almost immediately, the dark reddish hue on the band the guard wore. The same dark reddish hue that he’d glimpsed on the dragon before it attacked them. He hoped Professor Fig noticed it as well.

The goblin banker, however, seemed oblivious to the fact. “Vault twelve,” he cheered. “Momentous day. Heh.”

The guard seemed to scowl, though he wasn’t sure. “Mm.” He then gestured, slowly. “On your way.”

He couldn’t help but notice further details about the band. The reddish hue wrapped all the way around the band, along with some kind of pattern decorating it.

That was all he got, before the cart shifted back into motion. It felt like all he could do was watch, numbly, as the guard hopped on his cart and sped off, towards another part of the bank.

A nervous glance towards Professor Fig told him Fig was just as interested.

“Professor -” he hissed, hoping the goblin driving them didn’t hear.

“Hmm?” Fig leaned closer.

He gulped. “The armband that guard was wearing… it was glowing.”

“Like the glow from the portkey container?”

He shook his head, remembering the soft blue glow. “No. Darker, more of a reddish hue.” Another gulp. “I saw that same glow on the dragon’s collar, before it attacked.”

“What was that?” asked the banker, and he swallowed a yelp.

“We were just wondering about that goblin back there.” Thank Merlin (?) for Professor Fig.

“He watches over the oldest section of the bank,” the banker noted. “Rare anyone goes down there anymore…”

A few more twists and turns, they pulled up at another grated platform. “Here we are,” the banker said, bringing the cart to a full stop.

Professor Fig hopped off, followed closely by the banker. He gave himself a shake and followed. No need to linger in one spot too long, if Professor Fig was right about Ranrok.

“When was the last time this vault was accessed?” Professor Fig asked, as he approached.

“A goblin has been stationed at my desk for hundreds of years,” the banker replied. “In that time, no one has visited vault twelve… until today.”

They stopped in front of the fairly nondescript door, framed by dripping stalactites and a stone border with ‘12’ etched at the keystone.

The banker hurried forward, inserting the key into the surprisingly tiny lock. Stepping to one side, and with much clanking, the banker allowed the door to swing open on its own.

“Vault twelve,” was all he said.

Professor Fig entered first. “Thank you for your help,” he told the banker, before beckoning towards him and entering the vault.

He hurried after the professor, giving the banker a short nod in thanks, and dodging dripping water.

Stepping inside, he was surprised at how small it seemed. “What do you suppose we should be looking for?” he asked Fig,

Professor Fig shrugged. “I’m not sure. Sir,” he started, turning to face the banker. “I wonder if you might…”

“The instructions for vault twelve,” the banker stated, now framed by the vault door. “Indicated that I am to grant access to the holder of the key… and then close the door.”

“Wait-!” Fig exclaimed, as the banker did just that, the vault door closing with a solid thud and locking.

“Best of luck.”

Professor Fig heaved a sigh.

“Professor?” He tried to keep his growing panic out of his voice.

“That was certainly unexpected.” There was a flash of annoyance that crossed Fig’s face, before he shifted to contemplative, more like during their study sessions. “Let me think… There must be something here. Hmmm… I wonder…”

He grew a tad uneasy at what Fig might be thinking.

“What about… Revelio, perhaps.” He tilted his head at the spell. He’d heard of it, but never learned it.

“Revelio? I’ve heard of it…”

“Yes. Rather simple, a revealing charm.” Professor Fig smiled. “Pull out your wand. There’s no time like the present to learn it.”

He pulled out his wand, giving it a slight twirl to get the best hold.

“Let’s see what we’re missing here, shall we?” Professor Fig continued. “Right, focus on my wand movement.”

He watched as Professor Fig traced an ‘R’, before copying his movement.

“Excellent. Now, try casting it.”

“Revelio,” he murmured, fluidly drawing the R. There was a ripple of magic, followed by other, darker ripples across the back wall of the vault. “There! I saw something!”

“Hmmm. Move a bit closer and try casting it again.”

He hurried closer, covering the distance quickly. Barely pausing, he muttered, “Revelio,” and the wall changed. “A door…?”

“Well, that’s a start, at least.” Professor Fig noted. “And there’s that symbol again… I don’t suppose you see a way to… open it?”

“I do, professor! That symbol has the same glow as symbol on the portkey container had, before it opened for me.” He came closer, half a step behind the professor.

“Hmm,” Professor Fig intoned. “If what you can see reveals the way forward, then there’s a fairly good chance that we are about to discover what secrets this vault holds.”

He gestured towards the door. “Lead the way, Mr. Northrup.”

Stepping up, he gently touched the glowing torch symbol, and pushed. There was a moment of disorientation, as door vanished beneath his fingers and the vault went dark.

“Lumos!” came Professor Fig, light bursting from his wand tip and illuminating a small area around them.

The vault had changed. No longer a long, narrow rectangle, it now seemed to be infinitely large, and more circular in shape.

“This is no ordinary vault,” Fig observed, and he nodded in agreement. “I suspect we will need to earn our way out of here.”

He gulped. “What do mean ‘earn our way out’, Professor? Do you think this is some kind of test?”

Professor Fig nodded, keeping the wand light focused on him. “I do. But to exactly what end, I can’t say.” He started moving forward. “Stay close to me. There will be no Disapparating if things go poorly. Not out of Gringotts.”

There was a particularly ominous tone to Professor Fig’s voice, one he hadn’t heard before. So he hurried after.

Something about the vault unnerved him. He kept his wand in hand, squinting at the mist that seemed to hang at eye level. Professor Fig, lighted wand in hand, led the way.

He wasn’t sure how far they’d travelled, or how long already they had been here, only seeing the occasional, random column. But there was also the feeling of something drawing them towards whatever it was, slowly pulling them through the mist.

Until he spotted a burst of light, blue like the glow decorating the portkey container and door. “I see something, up ahead!”

“What is it?” Professor Fig asked.

“That glow again,” he observed, hurrying forward. “But it’s on the floor…”

He noticed that Professor Fig walked just to the right of it, as he continued straight on. An interesting effect followed him. It was almost like he was stepping in mud on a rainy day. The ground seemed to ripple with his footsteps, as he approached the whirlpool like spot.

As he stepped into it, his body reacted instinctually, and the ground seemed to shift, light exploding out in a ring, changing the floor yet again, taking on the strange, mirror like appearance of the enchantment they’d seen earlier.

“Whoa!” It appeared that, whatever that was, had snuffed out Professor Fig’s wand light. “Lumos!”

Wandlight back, he caught sight of what appeared to be beneath the enchantment.

“What happened?” Professor Fig asked, as he picked himself up out of a crouch.

“When I moved towards the glow,” he started slowly, still trying to wrap his own mind around what just happened, heart pounding in his throat. “It… suddenly seemed as though the ground was, well, swirling about.”

“Are you all right?” Fig asked, voice agitated.

He nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m fine.” Something told him it was far too late to turn back now.

“You seemed to have caused the floor to change…” There almost seemed to be awe in Professor Fig’s voice, for what, he wasn’t sure.

“That statue…” he breathed, slowly standing.

“What statue…?”

He pointed, shakily, out in front of himself. “There, to your left. I see some sort of statue, like some kind of guard, but only as a reflection, it seems.”

Professor Fig paused, bringing the wandlight over the hidden reflection. There were darker glimmers, much like the ones disguising the door they’d entered.

Stepping closer, he raised his wand. “Revelio.”

A full-bodied statue seemed to bloom into existence, almost exactly mirroring the kneeling reflection. Except…

“I presume this is what you saw reflected on the floor?” Professor Fig asked, clearly curious.

He nodded. “What I see, yes… the reflection’s still there. Except, the statues’ positions don’t match…” he noted, as Professor Fig slowly started to circle it.

And the reflection turned with him. “Wait!” he called out, and Professor Fig paused. “When you moved, the reflection turned in the direction of the light!”

“Hmmm…” Professor Fig was clearly intrigued. “Perhaps you should cast Lumos…”

He nodded, quickly adding his own wandlight. “Lumos!”

“Well done…” There seemed to be a slight grinding sound, as the reflection shifted towards him.

“Now it’s shifting towards me…” he told Professor Fig. “It does follow the wandlight.”

As he moved the reflection the right way around, the statue started to stand. A brief step back, it fell back into a crouch. Moving the reflection into place, the statue stood tall, raised its sword briefly, and touched the tip to the enchanted ground with an almost-musical ‘ping.’

Magic swirled around them, creating a boundary. He gulped, as several more dropped in around them.

Oh no… was his only thought, staring down masked statues.

“Look out…!” came Professor Fig, as the one they’d woken up raised its sword. He just managed to throw up a shield, before all hell broke loose around him.

Professor Fig seemed to do most of the defensive work, as he tried his best not to lose his head, throwing up shields and throwing basic casts, and even managing to destroy a couple of them himself in the process.

The magic around them seemed to howl, almost storm-like, and he hurried over to Professor Fig.

“Stay close!” the professor shouted as he approached. He was within grabbing distance, when… Professor Fig just disappeared. Right in front of him.

The howling stopped. It went dark again. He was on his own.

Little bits of light streaked through the darkness, catching his attention. Lighting his wand, he called out, “Professor!”

He didn’t exactly like being in this situation. “Professor Fig! Professor, where are you?”

Nothing. This isn’t good… he thought, panic rising, not helped by the feeling of disorientation. Where am I supposed to go?

He took a step, and more of the sparks of light appeared, flying off to his left. Turning in that direction, he set off, following the sparks as they bounded forward with each step.

The wisps seem to be leading me somewhere… he mused, dodging another column, and fruitlessly keeping an eye out for Professor Fig.

Again, he wasn’t sure how long had passed, as he spotted another of the glowing whirlpools of magic up ahead and gulped. That’s where they’re leading me… that glow again.

Stepping into the whirlpool, it again snuffed out the light. And yet again, another mirror like enchantment upon the floor.

And this time, he was looking at waking three of the guardian statues. “Revelio.” I suppose I’m on my own this time.

It took some trial and error, before he realised that he was meant to wake all three at the same time. He gulped. One had been bad enough…

Finding the correct spot, he took a deep breath. It seems I have no choice… I’m going to have to fight my way out of here… He raised his lighted wand, and watched in silent panic as the three statues silently pulled themselves out of a crouch.

“Ping. Ping. Ping.” They came sharp and clear, ringing through the area.

“Protego!” he roared, blunting and halting the blow from the one nearest him. Somehow, he kept his head and blew through the initial few. More arrived, their thuds shaking the ground.

Adrenaline seemed to take over, blurring the battle in his mind, turning his panic into a flurry of fighting and activity. “Protego! Stupefy! Blast!”

Destroying the last one, he was plunged back into darkness. He was really starting to hate this. “Lumos!”

Light flared from his wand again, as more wisps and sparks appeared at his feet. He hurried after them, nervous of what might lie ahead.

Light appeared faster, closer, this time, possibly only twenty, thirty maybe forty feet from where he’d just fought. Fifty at his furthest estimate. And with it, that same strange, torch symbol.

Another whirlpool, more dramatic magic… and the torch symbol seemed to melt, reforming into an arch of some kind. Beyond it, a massive room.

He sprinted forward, barely hesitating. It seemed safer than staying where he was. He hoped he wasn’t wrong.

Hurrying forward, he passed through the arch, gaping at the other side. The room was cavernous. He continued forward, stepping up slightly on a dais, which held a basin of some sort.

Making a circuit of it, he noticed the odd pendant-like object floating above it. Picking it up, he examined it, hoping that, somehow, he’d get an answer.

The sound of large doors opening caught his attention, and he turned to face who or what might be coming in. The dim light glinted…

It was Professor Fig. “There you are!” he exclaimed. “How did you… What is this place?” Professor Fig seemed equally in awe of its proportions.

He shrugged, as the professor walked towards him. “I don’t know.” He held out the pendant object. “But, I found this floating above that, well, basin…” He gestured to the slight basin in the middle of the dais.

Professor Fig seemed to recognise it. “That is no mere basin, Mr. Northrup. I’m unsure if they have them in America, but either way, it’s called a pensive, for viewing memories.” He ran a hand along the smooth edge, clearly surprised at finding one here. “I wonder… “

He held out the pendant, and Professor Fig took it. Pulling the cap off, Fig poured the contents in, stashing the pendant in one of his pockets. The contents of the basin seemed to churn as he did so.

“Now, follow my lead.” He mirrored Professor Fig’s position, grasping the sides as he did, and reluctantly stuck his face into the silvery mixture.

Which somehow resolved into the room they were in, just with two men he didn’t recognise at all. Each putting their finishing touch on the room.

“All is in place…” came the one in red, and who appeared younger than the other man.

“The portkey is well hidden?”

“Perhaps too well. I have to wonder if the path we’ve created…”

“…May be impossible to follow? It will only be impossible for one who cannot see traces of ancient magic – as I can.”

“Your ability to see what others cannot will not be enough, Percival. We are entrusting the one who embarks on this path with powerful secrets, and with knowledge others will do anything to obtain.”

The elder of the two, Percival, grew stony. “Yes, and if we’re correct, Charles, the witch or wizard who completes the trials will have proven themselves worthy of that knowledge and the responsibility that accompanies it.”

A pause, as they surveyed what they had done.

“We’ve done all that we can.” Charles noted. Percival nodded in agreement, raising his wand to his head, before drawing out a single, silvery thread-like fluid, and the memory ended.

He had plenty of questions buzzing around in his mind, as they came up. “Who-? How-?”

“That’s what you’re seeing?” Professor Fig asked, his voice stunned. “The glow that surrounded them?”

He nodded, feeling dazed. “Yes, sir.”

Professor Fig took in the room again. “Astonishing.”

“Professor,” he asked tentatively. “Can I see magic?”

“Traces of magic, to be precise,” Fig confirmed, clearly preoccupied with putting the pieces together. “The magic that Miriam had always believed, but could never…”

He grew silent, the grief clear on his face. “Miriam, and now perhaps George, died in pursuit of knowledge that has been dormant for centuries... And you, you seem to be the key to understanding exactly why.”

Professor Fig seemed to become manic at the thought. “We wou-.” He broke off the sound of doors opening.

“It all looks rather…different than it did a moment ago…” came the voice of the banker who helped them.

He gaped silently to Professor Fig. What? Professor Fig stiffened at the sound of the goblin, his face darkening.

“Someone’s coming.”

A deeper voice growled, “Who were they?”

The banker’s voice stammered. “I- I don’t know… But, sir… You shouldn’t be here.” Another growl, as the doors were forced open.

And the newspaper seemed to come to life. It could only be Ranrok. Flanked on his right by the guard, the banker to his left, the armoured goblin swept into the room, a nasty scowl on his face.

“I. was. Right,” Ranrok declared, and he noticed that there were several others not far behind Ranrok himself.

“Ranrok,” Fig seemed to snarl in return.

The dark goblin gave a twisted smile. “Seems my reputation precedes me. I was beginning to think that no one was ever going to visit Rackham’s vault.”

He filed that piece away, for when he was less scared. Professor Fig pulled his wand.

“And why are you here?” He drew his as well, half a second behind Fig. No need to be defenceless.

Ranrok held up a hand. “No need for that. Just give me whatever it is you found here, and we can let bygones be bygones.”

A ripple of magic danced across Ranrok’s armour, the same dark, reddish hue that had decorated both the dragon collar and guard’s arm band. He doubted it would really be that easy.

It seemed Professor Fig shared a similar thought, no doubt thinking of both his friend and his wife.

The banker interrupted the stare down. “Sir, they had the key to the vault.”

Ranrok appeared to not like that fact. He grew even more menacing. “Choose your next words wisely.”

“I- I only meant that the instructions for vault twelve were quite clear…” He glanced around, panic on his face growing. “Sir, I must insist. I was to grant access to only to one with the key. And you didn’t ha-”

He just managed to close his eyes, as Ranrok’s armour flared with magic, and the poor banker was thrown. He winced at the thud that followed.

“I have no patience for traitors.” Ranrok growled, and he cracked his eyes. “Now, where were we…”

“I’m not giving you anything,” Professor Fig growled.

Ranrok turned his focus to him, and he gulped. There was something terrifying about being stared down by this particular goblin. “Mmh, well, perhaps your young friend here will be more helpful…”

He gave a short shake of his head, stepping back.

Professor Fig reacted, throwing one spell, which impacted against Ranrok’s had.

Ranrok, in return, threw them against the floor, blasting the magic back. He impacted roughly, briefly blacking out.

It wasn’t long, a minute at most, but it had been enough for the vault to shift into defence, and a towering Guardian had emerged where the pensive had been before.

Ranrok’s whole attention was now on fighting the Guardian. He looked around, helping to steady Professor Fig. There has to be a way out…

He spotted another arch, which seemed to be looking out into a forested area. Anywhere but here… He moved towards it, almost spellbound by it.

“I know a way out!” he shouted at Professor Fig, who seemed to be repelling the giant metal Guardian as well. “Professor!” he shouted, as the Guardian blindly took a swing.

Professor Fig hurried towards him, racing the column the Guardian had broken through. They stuck their heads through the arch…

To suddenly appear in the wooded area, surrounded by the night sky and rustling leaves.

“Oh! Ha!” Professor Fig exclaimed, as they took in their surroundings. “Are you all right, Mr. Northrup?”

“Fine sir.” He said, his voice faint, and he took a moment to take several deep breaths and calm his wildly racing heart. “Where are we…?”

Professor Fig didn’t seem to be listening, not that he could fault him. “I’ve never seen such strong a goblin…” he muttered. “He seemed wholly unaffected by my magic…”

“Where are we?” he asked again, still curious as to where they’d ended up.

Apparently, Professor Fig had no problem figuring out where they were. “It can’t be.” The professor grinned, and he followed Professor Fig towards the lighted signpost. “It seems those who set up the pensive, the locket, along with the path to both, wanted someone with your ability to end up here.”

They paused, almost basking in the glow of the solitary lamp. After the insanity of the afternoon, he relished this brief moment of peace.

“Come,” said Professor Fig, breaking the silence. “We’ve a Sorting Ceremony to get to.”

Chapter 2

#A Fifth Year's Guide to Hogwarts Chaos #chapter 1 #fic #cyrus northrup #hogwarts legacy

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ellie-e-marcovitz · 11 months

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A Fifth Year's Guide to Hogwarts Chaos, a Masterlist

A Hogwarts'verse take on Hogwarts Legacy

AO3 link

A Very Important Letter - prequel

The Winding Road to Hogwarts

Arrival and Sorting

The Next Morning

The Art of Charmwork

Defensive Matters

Calm Before...

Trolls in the Village!

Clean Up and Some Answers

New Discoveries

Into the Library

The Athenaeum

#masterlist #A Fifth Year's Guide to Hogwarts Chaos #hogwarts legacy

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ellie-e-marcovitz · 1 month

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Eleven: The Athenaeum

Library, part 2

It was dark, after passing through the arch, and there was no sign of Eleanor, anywhere. He did, however, spot an intricately wrought trunk and opened it.

Inside was a hat, and what might’ve been another outfit. He shoved the uniform in his bag, and tentatively placed the hat on his head.

Other than the trunk, there were two doors, ones that could only lead onwards. He gulped, but pushed through them. No time to waste.

There wasn’t much, just a yawning chasm surrounding a platform, which faced another archway. Above that, some sort of mechanism, inscribed with a vaguely familiar rune – Hagalaz. One that sometimes acted as a modifier, and representing overcoming an obstacle.

Appropriate.

Hitting the mechanism with a basic cast, he darted across into the next room.

To be greeted by guardian statues. Not overly surprising.

“Guards at the ready...” he murmured to himself.

The first two were easy enough to defeat, but the third and fourth ones certainly surprised him a little. The fourth one almost dropped in on top of him, and still managed to send him flying, despite immediately moving.

This would hurt later.

Picking himself up, he took out the one that jumped him with some ancient magic, followed up shortly by the one he’d been attacking.

Catching his breath, he continued on, though it didn’t last long. There were two more guards/sentinels, and another hagalaz rune.

This time, he just managed to catch himself on the ledge, as the walkway rolled in the opposite direction. Out of the mist, Eleanor appeared, clothes rumpled and hair escaping.

“Hit the rune!” he called, pointing up at it. “I’ll catch you.”

She nodded, carefully taking aim. Rune triggered, she bolted across, and he caught her hand as she leapt.

“Thanks for that.” She looked horrible. Half healed scratches... “I took a beating from those guards back there.”

He winced in sympathy. “They should, maybe, get easier. C’mon then...”

They continued on, not finding guards, but an elaborate hallway. He honestly felt a bit lost. “This seems like the way forward...”

Eleanor delicately nodded, concerning him. “Yes, but to where?”

Entering the next chamber, they both hit the rune with basic casts, creating half a walkway, Eleanor nearly going off the end.

“Oof,” he grunted. “We need to be careful...” Eleanor gave him an annoyed look, clutching his robe, and pulling once she’d hit the rune again, as the walkway shifted itself.

He gave an apologetic smile. “Much thanks.” She continued forwards, and he mumbled, “...got to my wits...” as he followed.

And good thing. There was a trunk, which probably meant a big fight to follow. He popped it open, and Eleanor dove for the hat, leaving him with the less desired outfit.

They poked their heads into the vaulted room, and gulped. He silently counted at least eight guards, two of which were sentinels.

“Ready?” he asked, breathless. She shook her head once.

“Not exactly, but we don’t have a choice.”

Fair enough. “As you’ll ever be?” he asked again.

“I guess so.”

They entered the room, and he fought the creeping dread. Hopefully, they would survive this.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, they braced themselves. He drew his wand, Eleanor right behind him. As they neared the doors, the sentinels animated.

It was a flurry of activity. There seemed to be plenty of the pensive guards to fight, each quickly destroyed under a barrage of basic casts and ancient magic usage.

The sentinels were the hardest, helped on by their tendency to be able to jump and land on them if they weren’t paying attention. He’d pulled Eleanor out of the way several times, while her Protego saved his butt more than once. He even cheered a little when she knocked one of the sentinels off the platform, as he dealt with three of the guards.

That was plenty of dodging, ducking and blasting.

The last of the guards destroyed, the final set of doors opened, and they hurried through them. There was an air of solemness to the space, despite the relative small size.

“So it is a book then,” Eleanor murmured, noticing the object floating above the pensive, which sat in the middle of the intricately decorated room.

They moved closer, as if mesmerised. “This is something like what the pensive at Gringotts looked like,” he whispered to her. She made an interested noise, as if filing the information away.

As they approached, he reached out, and the book fell open, releasing more of the silvery memory fluid into the pensive, before disappearing into his pocket.

Eleanor quickly leaned in, him not far behind, nose just touching the silvery surface. It was still a very bizarre feeling, falling into someone else’s memory.

They appeared on a drought ridden hill top, overlooking a tiny, dried out hamlet of dry thatch huts. Even the air smelled dusty and thick with pollen, and it was uncomfortably warm.

In front of them stood four figures. He recognised Percival Rackham, complete with distinctive hat, and his friend Charles, in red. He didn’t recognise the other two figures, but Eleanor seemed to.

“That’s Professor Fitzgerald,” she whispered, pointing at the lady in the group. “And that is Professor Bakar.” She pointed to the man with the turban.

“Ah.”

The group surveyed the dusty surroundings, focusing on the house across from where they were standing, with a man and two small children, one of whom was using a crutch.

It was painful to watch, especially the empty bucket. Rackham gave a questioning look at Professor Fitzgerald, who gave a nod.

In a single fluid motion, Rackham imbued the clouds above with some ancient magic, causing it to start raining. Not heavily, but enough that it put some of the ancient magic into the earth and caused it revive in a way unlike any he’d seen before.

This was powerful magic.

He also wondered what was so special about the small girl the memory seemed to be focusing on.

The others joined in, each adding their own ancient magic to the mix, helping to restore the area around the hamlet to a sense of vitality.

The clouds eventually cleared, leaving a bright blue sky and a freshness to the air he could scarcely believe. It was almost peaceful, as the group of people moved on.

He expected to be pushed back out of the pensive, but instead, the first memory morphed into a second one, now a few years later and inside Hogwarts.

And there was the girl again, now a teenager and in Hogwarts robes.

“You wanted to see me, Headmistress Fitzgerald?” she asked tentatively. “Professor Rackham?”

They were teachers then, at Hogwarts.

“Miss Isadora Morganach,” Professor Rackham greeted. “Welcome.”

“Professor Rookwood,” she acknowledged Charles, before nodding at the remaining professor. “Professor Bakar.”

“We understand that you are adjusting well to life at Hogwarts,” Headmistress Fitzgerald started, a kind smile on her face.

“I am.” Isadora shrugged.

“I am glad -” Fitzgerald’s smile grew slightly. “Especially in light of your unusual situation, starting as a fifth year.”

“As it happens,” Professor Rackham spoke up. “I was also admitted to Hogwarts as a fifth year. I’ve never heard of another like us.”

“Miss Morganach,” Professor Rookwood continued, standing. “When we spoke yesterday after class, you asked about the beautiful swirls you saw years ago, when we visited your hamlet.”

Isadora hurriedly nodded. “I recognised you all. Immediately. I cannot thank you enough for what you did.”

Headmistress Fitzgerald gave a short bow. “We were glad to help.”

Isadora nodded, continuing, “And yes, I did see swirls of magic - everywhere - that day. My father insists it was my imagination running wild.” She briefly closed her eyes, remembering back to the day. “But it was certainly real to me.”

“It was not your imagination,” Professor Rackham noted.

“Percival, er, Professor Rackham can see them too,” Professor Fitzgerald explained, briefly slipping up. So it was Percival Rackham who had set this all in motion. “But we have never known another who could.”

Isadora’s face matched his - scrunched up in confusion. “I don’t understand. What are they?”

“The whispers, or rather traces, that appear when a particular form of ancient magic is wielded.” There was a slight glimmer in Rackham’s eye.

“Ancient magic?” Isadora wondered.

Professor Bakar spoke up, his words careful. “Few are capable of wielding it. Hogwarts itself is a stronghold of ancient magic.”

Isadora’s expression turned contemplative then excited. “So… if I can see traces of ancient magic, does that mean I can wield it too?”

“With the proper training.” Professor Rackham’s tone was stern, cautious even.

“But let us not get ahead of ourselves, Miss Morganach,” Professor Bakar cautioned as well.

“Before I can train you to wield such magic,” Rackham continued. “You must first master all that Hogwarts has to offer.”

Isadora’s smile dimmed a little, but she stayed.

Headmistress Fitzgerald continued, “A magic this powerful can do great harm in the wrong hands. It must be wielded by a select few.” Her expression was stonily serious, as she stepped towards Isadora. “As such, we ask that you do not speak to anyone about what we have discussed here today.”

Isadora said nothing, only turning and walking out of the office. Something about her expression made his spine tingle.

They were thrown from the pensive, as the memory faded, gasping and trying to wrap their minds around what they just saw.

Opposite them, an archway formed, and he helped Eleanor through it.

It had returned them to the chamber below the Restricted Section. There was a moment’s pause, before they remembered they were out during curfew and hurried up. Dodging just one ghost, they silently crept out into the main area of the library.

Much to his surprise, at least, it seemed not much time had passed. “Sebastian?” he whispered, surprised.

Sebastian was being corralled it seemed by Peeves, bickering until the librarian appeared, outraged.

“Sneaking in the Restricted Section!” she shrieked, and both he and Eleanor covered their ears. “Again!” Eleanor dragged him over to one of the smaller cases.

“I had thought we were through with this mischief, Mr. Sallow. Clearly, detentions are proving to be insufficient. I’m afraid I must take this to the headmaster.”

Sebastian opened his mouth, surprised. “But...”

Peeves floated his way between them, clearly enjoying the debacle. Madam Scribner slowly approached Sebastian. “That being said, Peeves informed me that you didn’t come alone tonight.”

He fought to contain his gasp, his heart pounding in his throat. Damn. Damn, that poltergeist.

“If some has coerced you,” Scribner continued. “I would have you to tell me.” A pause, as he fought down his panic. “You’re a bright boy, Sebastian,” she chastised. “Don’t waste this.”

Another pause, as Sebastian seemed to make up his mind. Eleanor trembled a little next to him, not that he blamed her. Scribner was terrifying in this state. They were done for.

“There was nobody else. I came alone.”

Scribner tsked. “Oh Sebastian,” she moaned. “What will your uncle say?” Peeves swooped over to Sebastian, as Scribner walked away, and blew a raspberry, before flying off to another part of the library.

“Let’s move,” Eleanor hissed quietly, pulling him in another direction, back towards a different section. They waited until Scribner and Sebastian were out of the library, before following them.

Donning dillusionments, they silently made their way back up to the viaduct entrance before removing them.

“Get back to Gryffindor tower,” she said, voice low. “I’ll see you in a couple hours, and we can talk with Professor Fig then.”

He nodded, the late hour starting to catch up with him, along with the excessive use of magic. “’Night Eleanor.” She gave a brusque nod, before hurrying off to another part of the castle.

Making it back to the portrait of the Fat Lady, he realised he wasn’t the only one up after hours when he crossed paths with Garreth. Not that Garreth seemed to immediately notice.

He didn’t mind. He hadn’t had this sort of freedom at Ilvermorny, to just roam the castle halls, even if it was after a stated curfew. It was quiet, and the adrenaline was still pumping through his veins.

He still made his way up to his dorm. There would be plenty of other nights to freely(ish) roam the halls to his heart’s content.

If he didn’t make a break for the wider Highlands first.

chapter 12

#fic #A Fifth Year's Guide to Hogwarts Chaos #chapter 11 #Cyrus Northrup #hogwarts legacy

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ellie-e-marcovitz · 1 month

Text

Ten: Into the Library

I'm alive! Aided by a rather rude comment, Writer's Block has been worse than usual. I'm still reluctant to progress on Hogwarts Legacy. Kendal, Gwyneth and Hayden make an appearance.

Exiting Professor Fig’s classroom, they crossed paths with Kendal, who seemed determined. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere!”

“Hello to you too, Kendal. Why were you looking for us?”

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Apparently, Professor Weasley thinks you’ve gone back to Hogsmeade, for whatever reason. She asked me to drag you back. Oh, hello Eleanor.”

“Kendal,” Eleanor greeted, and he cautiously looked between the two, nervously. While Kendal, Gwyneth, and Catherine had gone to Hogwarts last year, he hadn’t been privy to most of the details, possibly in silent fear he’d end up being unable to come.

“Of course you two would know each other…” he muttered, as their chattering intensified. He was constantly baffled by his sisters, and now Eleanor’s, ability to speak in half sentences, vague hand gestures, and seemingly able to read each others’ minds.

This continued until they reached the Transfiguration courtyard, and he was starkly reminded about the still-damaged statue he’d been asked to possibly repair.

“Kendal,” he interrupted, forcing both her and Eleanor to look at him. “You wouldn’t happen to know how that statue,” he pointed towards the damaged statue, “got destroyed, would you?”

She froze, taking in his serious look and rolling her eyes, before turning thoughtful. “Let me talk with Gwyneth, dad,” she retorted, before hurrying off.

Eleanor took after her, and he sighed, following them both into central hall, before making his way over to the Great Hall.

There, he tackled several essays, schoolbooks fanning out in front of him.

Eleanor appeared sometime between Charms and Defence, giving him a frosty smile, before delving into her own books. He winced, before otherwise ignoring her.

He hadn’t meant to snap at Kendal, or channel their father; he fumed, as he resisted the urge to throw his ancient runes textbook across the Great Hall. They’d been so. close. to finding out what was in the library.

And his mood wasn’t helped by Sebastian sauntering by, Ominis not far behind him, now-typical smirk in place. He scowled, before shoving his books back into his bag, and heading back to Gryffindor Tower.

It was quieter in the common room, and allowed him to calm down some. It also allowed him to try and think of some ways that they could get into the library without breaking too many rules.

And mostly coming up blank. Except for one offer he refused to contemplate, even for a minute. He shuddered to think what detentions must be like here. They’d been bad enough at Ilvermorny, when he landed in it.

He pushed those thoughts away, to the back of his mind for now. There was no need to dwell on it further.

So it was with a cooler head that he approached Eleanor as she entered the common room sometime later. She seemed cautious as he approached, as did the other girls around her.

He stopped in front of her. “Look,” he started, well aware of their audience. “How can I make it up to you?”

She seemed to consider his words, sharing several silent looks with the others, and he gulped. All he hoped was that it wasn't too embarrassing for him.

“You'll apologise to your sister,” she started and he winced. “Tonight. And you'll help in one of Madam Scribner's etiquette classes she hosts on Saturday.”

The other girls nodded in agreement.

Another wince. “If my sister lets me speak with her at dinner, we shall see.”

A scrutinising look from Eleanor, before a sigh. “I suppose that is good enough, for now.”

“Thank you.” Standing, he gave a short bow. “Ladies,” he muttered, before returning to his books. Knowing his sisters, he'd have to be quick. Kendal was no doubt feeding the rumour mill.

He fled the tower not long after six, hoping to beat her there.

They ended up crossing paths, her coming up from the Hufflepuff common room, Gwyneth not far behind him.

“Alright,” Kendal started, looking very much like she didn't want to be doing this. “Despite my better judgement, I'm telling you this. Don't tell anyone else, I mean it.”

He listened, watching her intently.

“Last year, I might've destroyed the statue in the alcove, because Grayson Alers might've… well… he decided to break my heart during OWLs week. By dumping me in the Transfiguration Courtyard.” She scowled.

“I helped her drop the pieces in the lake,” Gwyneth added softly. “She didn't want Alers repairing it before he left. And neither of us believed his excuse of her distracting him.” A rare eye roll from Gwyneth.

Ah. That answered that question. “Thank you for telling me. And I'm sorry I snapped at you.”

She looked at him, disbelievingly, tears shining, before scowling at his next question.

“Where's this Alers now?” he asked

“Probably the ministry,” came Eleanor's voice, and Kendal seemed both shocked and relieved to see her. Eleanor seemed pleased at their little gathering. Kendal rolled her eyes, but said nothing.

“I'll meet you inside,” was all she said to him, and he nodded.

“I- We'll fish them out tonight,” Kendal finally said, sharing a look with Gwyneth. “So we should probably eat.” He nodded in agreement.

Dinner passed quietly, both Gwyneth and Kendal joining him and Eleanor, along with Garreth and Neal, whose singed blond locks got much ribbing from the group. The rest of the evening passed in a similar manner.

Saturday arrived with a sunbeam to the eyes and a deep reluctance to move from his bed. Both Garreth and Leander were missing from theirs, and Neil and Oswin were sound asleep.

Lucky blokes.

He took advantage of the quiet washroom for his morning routine, before dressing and heading down. The common room was noisy with chatter, a number of Gryffindors scattered around doing homework or playing games.

The Great Hall was just as noisy, the students in a mix of school robes and Muggle clothing. He waved to Natty, Eleanor and Seraphina, before joining Leander in a spontaneous discussion of sports teams.

After breakfast, he wandered the castle some, curious as to what he might find.

He ended up finding several more Field Guide pages, and a distressed looking Ravenclaw near Professor Hecat’s classroom.

“Is everything all right?” he asked the young girl tentatively, who seemed to be around Hayden’s age.

She shook her head. “I am not,” she started, her voice curt. “Do you not know who I am?”

He shook his head. He hardly knew anyone, outside of his year and family.

“Zenobia Noke,” she introduced. “The girl whom the entire school hates for no reason.”

“Cyrus.” He felt a little sceptical of that. “Everyone hates you?” he enquired. “Why?”

She huffed. “Because Hogwarts appears to be full of bullies and spoilsports, that's why,” she retorted, almost defensively. “Leander Prewett is one of the worst, that no-talent moonmind!” She half-shouted the last bit, frustration taking over.

He silently let her talk.

“I wanted to make some new friends,” she continued, “and so I brought my collection down to the common room.” She tapped at the badge on her robe.

“Collection? Of what?”

“My Gobstones collection. I was hoping someone would want to play. Are you familiar with the game?”

He tried to remember if it sounded familiar.

“Little balls, like marbles…” she continued, and he shrugged, nothing about it sounding familiar to him.

“Hmph,” she sighed. “Grand game, in my opinion. But if you lose, you get sprayed with a foul-smelling fluid.”

He cringed a little at that. It didn't sound like a game any of his sisters would enjoy.

“Sounds like an interesting challenge…” he muttered.

“That's what I tell people!” Zenobia exclaimed, excitedly. “It's not my fault they lose! Ugh, but people can be so cruel!”

That he could agree with. “That is unfortunately true…”

She seemed to ignore him, as she continued. “Imelda is one of the worst losers, and Everett and Astoria are terrible as well,” she grumbled. “And now they've taken my Gobstones and hidden them in very high places all over the school.”

“Like where?”

“I know one is in the Transfiguration Courtyard, and another is near Ravenclaw tower.”

“It sounds like an overreaction on their part.”

Zenobia nodded enthusiastically. “I would agree. Anyway, I can't work out how to get them on my own. I haven't been able to learn Accio yet.” She frowned, before gaining a mischievous smile, not unlike his sisters.

“So, I need an older, more talented, student who is selfless to help me get them back.”

“If you know of the other locations, I can certainly try.”

A sigh. “Very well. One is near the Divination classroom, another near the Arithmancy classroom, and…” She trailed off.

“Yes?”

“Possibly the Trophy room and somewhere in the area of the Grand Staircase. I'm not tall enough to reach the top of the portrait frame.”

Good to know. “Thank you, Zenobia.”

“You’re welcome! Hopefully, I’ll be back to playing on my own again soon.”

He winced as he turned on his heel, and headed back down the stairs.

Slowly, he gathered the Gobstones. The one in the Transfiguration Courtyard was easy enough to find, sitting above the alcove, where distinct chunks of the statue now sat.

He was glad to see that Kendal and Gwyneth had (somehow) dragged them out of the lake. Unless they said something, he wasn’t going to ask. No need to set himself up for anymore punishment.

Remembering the wand movement, he muttered, “Reparo,” and watched as the statue smoothly reassembled itself into the mourning figure of heartbreak in short order. There was something peaceful, even with the distraught statue, about this alcove.

Re-entering the Transfiguration Courtyard, he quickly Accio’d the small, glass ball, turning it over in his fingers, before dropping it in his robe pocket.

That’s one Gobstone collected, he mused, as he entered Central Hall. Not sure I can see what all the fuss is about it…

Pausing at the fountain, he pulled out his field guide. Opening it, he noticed several spots of purple.

Those must be the areas where the other Gobstones were hidden.

He found one inbetween Ravenclaw and Gryffindor towers, and two in and around the school Trophy room, a dizzying array of plaques, cups, and various other awards decorating the circular space.

It was as he approached the Divination classroom, that he crossed paths with Natty and her mother, Professor Onai. “Natty,” he greeted. “Professor Onai.” The mix of expressions told him he’d interrupted something.

“Oh, Cyrus,” Natty greeted. “Hello.”

“Mr. Northrup,” Professor Onai intoned, before moving off down the stairs.

Natty grinned, once her mother vanished from sight. “I was hoping to talk with you,” she started. “But not here.” She pointed to where they stood.

He tilted his head in confusion.

She gestured around them. “The portraits like to listen in, for one,” she explained, lowering her voice. “And my mother. Can we possibly meet outside the castle? Near, say, Lower Hogsfield?”

“Works for me, I s’pose…” A pause. “Have you asked Eleanor?”

“I have,” she confirmed. “This morning. She wanted to see if you had figured out your task, by the way?”

He snorted. They really were thick as thieves. “Not… yet.” There was the slight problem of trying to figure out how to break into the Restricted Section, without alerting the librarian or any of the professors, and landing himself detention.

Natty’s expression turned contemplative. “Eleanor did also say something about –” she started, before being interrupted.

“Natsai!” came her mother’s shout, and she sighed.

“See you later Cyrus,” she said, before darting down the stairs and out of sight.

He sighed. There was an uneasy, sinking feeling, but he largely ignored it.

It took some searching, but he eventually found the Gobstone, perched on the landing’s chandelier. Grabbing it, he went searching for the last one.

He found it, near an unfamiliar classroom, perched above Central Hall, and summoned it. Last one, he noted, mentally counting them. I should find Zenobia.

He crossed paths with Eleanor, who handed him a navy bag with a tight smile. “Got these from Astoria,” was all she said.

Zenobia was still by the Defence classroom, where he’d originally found her.

“I hope you’ve had more luck than I did, tracking down my Gobstones…?” she asked, as he approached.

He nodded. “I did.”

“Really?!” she exclaimed, surprised, but something niggled at his brain. “Oh! I didn’t think it was possible! How ever did you do it?”

“Common sense and basic magic. I am a little surprised you haven’t learnt Accio yet.”

She shrugged. “Well. May I have my Gobstones back?”

“Yeas, of course.” He pulled the balls from his robe pocket, carefully dropping the six he’d found into the bag with the others, and holding it out. “They are yours, after all.”

Zenobia gave a little squeal, clapping her hands. “Oh thank you!” she cheered, taking the bag. “I shall dedicate all my future victories to you. Speaking of which…” she placed the small bag in her pocket. “I wonder if anyone in the common room would be up for a game, now that I’ve got them back…”

“…I’m sure that’s a wonderful idea, Zenobia.” He managed, not wanting to crush her enthusiasm.

“Well, thank you again, Cyrus!” she called, scurrying off.

He and Eleanor met up again at lunch.

“Natty mentioned that you might have an idea-?” he started, sitting down in front of her. She nodded, finishing her bite.

“I do, though I don’t know how much you’ll like it,” she noted. There was a sinking sensation in his stomach.

“You don’t mean...”

She nodded, reluctantly. “I do.” He groaned, his face contorting into a grimace, and pouting a little.

After a minute, she continued. “Did he mention being able to sneak into the Restricted Section?”

He nodded. “After Defence, the first day of classes.”

It was her turn to groan out of frustration. “I should take points,” she muttered. “But I won’t right now, at least.”

He was confused by that, but didn’t ask about it. There was food, and he was hungry.

“I also,” she continued, after he’d gathered some food, and taken a few bites. “Received a note from Natty, just before you joined me.”

She handed him an opened scroll of parchment, neatly decorated with Natty’s handwriting.

Eleanor,

Meet me in Lower Hogsfield after lunch, as soon as you can. I would like to talk to you about something, and it might be best to do so outside of the castle.

Without the prying ears of my mother. Let Cyrus know – Natty.

He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Finishing off his plate, he asked, “Why Little Hogsfield?”

Eleanor raised an eyebrow, before considering the question. “Discretion, I believe. It’s close enough to Hogwarts, but not many students go over that way, considering it sits at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.” She stabbed a morsel of food. “The Black Lake is also nearby, which allows some cover for conversations.”

“Sounds like you’ve talked there before.”

She gave a mischievous smile, one that made his heart pound a little.

“Might have, a time or two.” A couple more bites. “Write a note to Sebastian. He won’t help unless you approach him.”

He rolled his eyes, before huffing. “Fine. Let’s get this done with.”

Fishing out some parchment and a quill, he wrote out a vague message to Sebastian. Folding it, he hesitated.

How to deliver it? A glance around the Great Hall held few answers. Most of his classmates seemed to mostly (barely) tolerate the Slytherin, or were terrified...

Hayden! He spotted his younger brother chatting with another student, a stubborn look on his brother’s face. Perhaps he could help him...

He waited until Hayden had gotten up from the Slytherin table, and managed to catch him just outside the Great Hall. Quickly explaining his situation, his brother reluctantly agreed to take the message.

“Just don’t make me your messenger, Cyrus,” he moaned, an annoyed look on his face.

“Fair enough,” he agreed. “Maybe you can even help.”

His good mood evaporated crossing by the clock tower, and across the grounds.

“I don’t exactly want Sebastian’s help,” he grumbled, as he and Eleanor passed a cabin on the edge of the grounds. Eleanor tsked in sympathy.

“Unfortunately, he is our best – and only – option here.” Part of him was relieved that she seemed equally displeased about dealing with the Slytherin.

At least, he hoped.

“Natty!” Eleanor’s shout brought him from his thoughts, and he spotted Natty standing next to a rickety old fence and a Floo point.

She waved, and they hurried closer. “Over here!”

“It is good to see you both,” Natty said, her voice anxious.

“You as well, Natty.” He felt as anxious as she sounded. “I hope you’re recovering well from our rather eventful trip to Hogsmeade.”

“I am, thank you for asking.” She grinned, before it faded, her expression turning determined. “But it you, Cyrus, that I have been worried about. What with Ranrok and Rookwood, and even Harlow, after you.”

He could feel Eleanor’s worried look at the reminder. “I’m all right, for the moment.”

“Hmmm.” Natty shared a look with Eleanor. “I know we did not speak about it at the time, but I am hoping now you might be able to tell me why Rookwood and Harlow were looking for you.”

He hesitated. Part of him wanted to wait until Professor Fig to say it was okay, but he also worried that the permission would never come.

“I would like to know as well,” Eleanor added, standing between him and Natty. “Considering Professor Fig never elaborated.”

He laughed. “Fair enough. I think, well, Rookwood and Ranrok want something that Professor Fig and I found at Gringotts.”

“Gringotts!” Natty and Eleanor exclaimed, shocked.

“When were you at Gringotts?” Natty asked.

“Just before Professor Fig and I came to Hogwarts,” he admitted. “In fact, it’s why I ended up being late to the Sorting Ceremony. Or, at least, a large part of the reason why.”

“What on earth...” Natty wondered, clearly bowled over.

Another shared look with Eleanor, before adding to Natty’s shock. “There is... one more thing, Natty,” he started, nervous. “It’s... a bit odd, if I’m honest.”

“Go on,” she said, guarded.

“Well, Professor Fig says I apparently have a rare connection to a powerful form of ancient magic.”

Natty blinked. “Like Eleanor?” she asked, gesturing to Eleanor, who shrugged.

“Yes, and no. It’s possible that Cyrus’s is even stronger than my own, apparently.”

Natty briefly studied him, before asking, “Is that the magic you used fighting those trolls in Hogsmeade?”

They both nodded.

“I think so,” he continued. “I’ve only used it twice before that, and I’m still learning.” He rubbed at his arm.

“But I can see high concentrations of it, and I’ve cast magic I cannot otherwise explain.”

A silent pause. “I know it’s a lot to absorb...”

“It is,” Natty agreed. She did look overwhelmed. “And I will have more questions.”

He laughed a little. “It’s understandable. I’m still processing parts of it myself.”

She laughed as well, cutting the mounting tension he felt. “Then it is good to see that I have company.”

It was as their laughter died down that Natty grew concerned. But before she could say anything, something caught her eye. “I’m sorry, Cyrus, Eleanor. I need to go,” she suddenly apologised.

Eleanor glanced around, before spotting an unusual bird in the sky, and seemed to understand. “Go ahead, Natty. We can meet up later.”

Natty nodded, before darting back towards Hogwarts. He stared after her, more than a little confused at the shift. Turning back to Eleanor, she appeared to be caught between two thoughts.

“Wha-?” he got out, before Eleanor shook her head.

“I think it’s best for Natty to explain,” she said, her voice soft and gentle.

“Okay then.” He jabbed his thumb in the direction their friend had just gone. “Think we should head back as well?”

Eleanor nodded, with a glance at her pin watch. “We probably should. It’s about time for dinner.”

They ended up crossing paths with Hayden outside of the Great Hall.

“Sebastian Sallow told me to give this to you,” he said, holding out a piece of folded parchment, an annoyed look on his face. Eleanor headed into the Great Hall

It didn’t say much.

Meet me by the tapestry of Wendelin the Weird. – S. Sallow.

He started to crumple it, before he figured it was best not to. Sticking it in his field guide, he followed his brother into the Great Hall and searched for Eleanor.

It was after dinner that he approached the tapestry mentioned. He had never heard of Wendelin the Weird, despite reading through A History of Magic cover to back several times during his recovery.

He suspected Eleanor wished to hit him with a copy when he admitted that. The disappointed looks from his sisters hadn’t helped.

Taking in the dramatic tapestry, he also spotted the slight figure that was Sebastian Sallow, silhouetted in the candlelight.

“Sebastian,” he greeted quietly.

“Ah, Cyrus!” Sebastian greeted in return, turning around. “You got my note.”

He nodded once in acknowledgement. He still wasn’t sure why...

“I was hoping to see you.” Sebastian grinned. “I just happened to be in the Three Broomsticks after the troll attack, and saw what happened with Rookwood and Harlow. Not many students have Victor Rookwood’s attention.”

The grin faded. “What was that all about?”

He gulped. While he was comfortable sharing information with the likes of Eleanor and Natty, he wasn’t sure how he felt about sharing it with someone like Sebastian.

Shrugging, he replied, “I’m - I’m not sure. I’ve never even met him. Perhaps he mistook me for another student...”

Sebastian eyed him suspiciously, but let it go. “If you say so. I won’t press you now, but you will have to tell me what exactly is going on at some point.” The smirk returned. “You might need me.”

Unlikely... he thought.

“So why do you need access to the Restricted Section, of all places?”

“Well...” This he felt he could share some information on. “I need to get something for Professor Fig...”

“But it happens to be in the Restricted Section.” The smirk grew.

“Yes. He got called away by the headmaster at the last moment, however...”

“No note?” Sebastian asked, clearly surprised.

“There wasn’t time. I suppose I could wait to get one...”

“But you wanted to show some initiative.”

“So to speak, yes.” A moment’s pause. “And you did say something about it the first day of classes.”

“Ah, so you remembered. I am clever enough, thanks. Meet me outside the library just before curfew.” A terse expression appeared. “And tell no one.”

He nodded. He’d only tell Eleanor, and only because she was involved with this. “I’ll see you later then.”

Returning to the common room, he told Eleanor, who glanced at her watch and sighed. “Sebastian is going to catch hell for this,” she grumbled. “All right, give me five minutes, and...” she glanced around. “I’ll meet you in Central Hall.”

He nodded, reluctantly. “I – Okay. See you then...” he muttered, as she hurried off towards the dorms.

Slipping back out, he made it halfway down Ravenclaw tower before he felt a tap at his middle back, and startled.

“It’s me!” came Eleanor’s hiss. “Keep moving towards Central Hall.” He nodded, unsure where exactly she was. “Trust me!”

Reaching Central Hall, Eleanor whispered a spell, reappearing beside him.

“Hello again,” she smiled, her expression mischievous.

“Let’s get this over with,” he mumbled, noticing Sebastian waiting nearby.

“Sebastian,” he greeted, as they approached.

“Cyrus,” Sebastian returned. “And -” He stopped, anger filling his face. “Why did you tell her?”

He scowled in return. “She’s helping me with this, Sebastian. If you have a problem with this...”

“If she’s not going to turn us in,” Sebastian seemed to counter. “I don’t.”

“Why -?”

“Done.” Eleanor agreed, face stony.

“Follow me, then.” They crept down to the balcony area overlooking the fountain – and the library. He noticed the students strategically dotted around the area, all around his age. Sebastian pointed at one of the doors opposite their position.

“See that door?” Sebastian whispered, and he nodded. “That’s the one we want to reach.” Another glance around. “And those annoying prefects would love nothing more than to rat us out to Scribner, or any of the professors...”

Eleanor huffed out a soft laugh. “Those prefects are there because of you, Sebastian,” she told him. “Not many students try to sneak into the library the first week of school.”

Sebastian made an offended expression, even as he flushed, before rolling his eyes. “Well then, don’t let them see you, all right?”

“Not a problem.” Eleanor vanished beside him. He felt a bit dumbstruck.

“How then? I know I can be a bit sneaky, but...”

“There’s a handy spell: the Disillusionment Charm.” Sebastian’s tone was somewhat condescending, but he brushed it off. “Good for getting into places you’re not supposed to be.” He shrugged. “Cast it, and you’ll appear as little more than a trick of the light.”

The smirk reappeared. “So long as you keep your distance and stay quiet.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem.” A glimmer down by the fountain caught his eye, and he swore he saw Eleanor’s mischievous smile.

“Good. The incantation is Disllusio,” Sebastian whispered, and quickly showed him the wand movement, before casting it on himself.

“Disllusio,” he muttered, following the wand movement, tapping his head. There was the rather uncomfortable feeling of an egg being cracked and running down his face.

“Perfect,” came Sebastian’s voice beside him. “Now, silent as a grave. I’ll be right behind you.”

No pressure, then, he thought.

Skirting the first prefect was easy enough. He seemed absorbed in one of the landscapes, and they darted past without a problem. Joining Eleanor at the fountain, they were faced with the larger problem.

The prefects guarding the library.

He leapt at the first chance, after shifting to crouch near a suit of armour, nearly falling through the door. Sebastian shortly followed, nearly getting caught.

Eleanor joined them a couple minutes later, after having to distract the remaining prefects with spellfire. “Mr. Moon is not going to enjoy cleaning the scorch marks,” she muttered.

Entering the library, they were confronted by a new obstacle – the librarian herself, Madam Scribner.

Gulping, they ducked down one of the sections, trying to avoid detection.

“Blast. The librarian is still here,” Sebastian muttered, annoyance clear in his voice, as they peeked over the shelves. “Damn it.”

He could feel his heart thudding in his ears. “I thought you said the librarian would be gone.”

Eleanor gave an annoyed huff. “Usually she is, but...” she trailed off, gesturing towards the Slytherin. He rolled his eyes, just catching Sebastian doing the same.

“D’you see her desk behind me?” he asked, pointing behind himself. He nodded, also seeing the diminutive librarian working on something. “The key in the centre drawer of it.” A slight smirk appeared.

“Now, here’s what we’re going to do.”

Eleanor sighed.

“I’ll create a distraction to draw her away from her desk. You,” he pointed at them. “One of you will focus on getting the key. I’ll meet you both outside the Restricted Section.”

“Why do we need a key?” he asked. “I would think Alohomora.” Sebastian shrunk a little, a guilty expression on his face.

“Ah – well...”

“That’s his go to,” Eleanor piped up. “Until Scribner figured it out last year, and cast a charm against it.”

Huh, that he could use. “Oh, really?” Curiosity coloured his voice.

“Yes, really,” Sebastian muttered, annoyed. “But no need to worry. I did say I’d get you in, didn’t I? And I always keep my word. Trust me.” He gave a half-charming grin that reminded him of a shady street vendor.

He sighed. He’d have to, for now. “All right.”

“Excellent.” The grin widened. “See you shortly.” He vanished once more, hurrying off to a far part of the library.

He and Eleanor replaced theirs as well, sinking back into the shelves. His senses tingled, telling him that the librarian could sense something as well.

A loud clatter told him Sebastian had used a suit of armor as his distraction, and the librarian moved into the main area.

“Is someone there?” she barked into the growing silence. “Peeves, is that you?” She hurried off into the darkened end of the library as well.

“Now!” hissed Eleanor, pushing him forward. He mutely hurried forward, blindly making his way into the librarian’s area. There was a clattering, as Eleanor pulled the drawer open and grabbed the key inside it.

He swiped the nearby piece of parchment, before bolting after Eleanor, heart still furiously pounding in his ears.

They skidded to a stop in front of the gate sectioning off the Restricted Section. Sebastian seemed inordinately proud of himself.

“Now that wasn’t so difficult, after all?” he grinned, like a cat with a canary. “Now, to find whatever book you’re after for Professor Fig.”

He carefully inserted the key, the gate swinging open on silent hinges, and replaced the Disillusionment Charm.

No telling what other obstacles there were.

“Now, don’t touch any of the other books,” Sebastian continued almost casually. “At least one screams if you open it, which defeats the whole purpose of sneaking in.”

Eleanor attempted to stifle her snicker. “Found that on your own, then?”

“Unfortunately.”

He headed straight down, pausing as a feeling rippled.

“Damn. Ghost,” Sebastian muttered. “One of the old librarians, I think. Don’t let her see you.”

He carefully poked his head around the wall, and noticed the nearby suit of armour. That would have to do... Raising his wand, he silently fired a basic cast.

It clattered, loudly, pieces falling to the ground and drawing a severe looking ghost towards it.

They bolted in the opposite direction, with Eleanor leading them straight past two more, and down another staircase. Sebastian hesitated half a moment too long, almost getting them caught a third time, but finally moved just in time.

Sebastian had a huge grin, as they hurried down the next staircase. “Should be clear now,” he said, casually removing the charm. “No need to be ‘skulking about.’”

He felt a little more sceptical of this. “Not yet...” he muttered, but relented once they were further in.

“So, what is it you’ve been looking for, Sebastian?” he asked, passing bookcases covered in cobwebs. “There has to be a reason as to why you’ve been breaking in.”

“If you must know,” Sebastian dramatically sighed. “I’m searching for a cure. For my twin sister, Anne.” He gave Eleanor a meaningful look. “So she can return to Hogwarts.”

“What kind of cure exists in the Restricted Section?” he wondered. “Does the Hogwarts matron have nothing that can help her?”

Sebastian shook his head. “No. Granted, it seems we’ve tried everyone from Nurse Blainey to St. Mungo’s. But... I can certainly research on my own.”

The reached a plain door that Sebastian pushed open. “No need to concern yourselves with it right now.” He rubbed his hands together. “Let’s focus on what you’re after... which is ...what, exactly?”

He shared a look with Eleanor. “I’ll know it when I see it.”

Sebastian didn’t seem convinced. “You’re being awfully cryptic.”

“It’s complicated,” Eleanor added.

They made their way through the clutter, coming upon a huge pile of armour on the ground. “Lumos.”

He carefully approached. “Re -” he started, before freezing, wand raised, as Peeves flew up.

“Who have we here?” the poltergeist cackled cheerfully. Spotting Sebastian, his wide grin grew. “Sebastian Sallow and the new student and friend, out exploring where they shouldn’t be!” Another cackle. “Naughty, naughty, you’ll get caught-ty!” the poltergeist sing-songed, before further cackling. “Oh and a would be prefect too!” he cackled in Eleanor’s direction.

She scowled. “Enough, Peeves!” she barked, and glared at his wide-eyed expression.

Sebastian seemed more scared. “Peeves... don’t!” as the poltergeist zipped out of the room chanting,

“I’m going to tell! I’m going to tell! I’m going to te-ll!”

Sebastian cursed. “Blasted Peeves!” His eyes darted around. “I’ve got to stop him, or, at least, get to the librarian with a good enough excuse for all this.”

“Not a word about us,” Eleanor added.

He panicked. “How do I know you won’t blame it on me?”

“Easy,” Sebastian drawled, smirk growing. “I rather like having friends in my debt.” He hurried off, back the way they had come. “Good luck on your search,” he called out, before disappearing back into the library.

His heart rate sped up. Eleanor’s annoyed expression didn’t help. He turned back to the armor. “Reparo,” he muttered, shuddering a little at the clanking it made.

Path clear, they forged ahead. “Lumos,” he heard Eleanor mutter, as they descended further under the Restricted Section.

Reaching the bottom, they were met with a new room.

“Whoa...” he breathed out, taking in the crumbling stone cavern. This must’ve been impressive when it was first built. There was also the same low thrum of energy that had been in the vault at Gringotts.

He carefully made his way around, and the energy seemed to build.

Finding the pool of ancient magic, he stepped in it.

Reflexively pushing this ancient magic, the room shifted, the arch taking on the strange, mirrored appearance of the others. The room had even doubled in size.

Eleanor had been knocked aside in the process, before pulling herself up.

“Are you all right?” he asked, a little worry seeping out.

“’M fine,” she grumbled, before pausing. “Is there a reason there’s a whirlpool on the floor?”

“That’s the ancient magic.” His heart rate picked up. “Is this the first -?”

She shook her head. “No, but the first in couple years in this amount.” She strode confidently towards it, mimicking his movement. “Good luck.”

“You as well.”

They each headed forward, towards one side of the archway.

chapter 11

#fic #A Fifth Year's Guide to Hogwarts Chaos #chapter 10 #cyrus northrup #hogwarts legacy

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ellie-e-marcovitz · 6 months

Text

Nine: New Discoveries

3 September 1890

It, however, was far from restful, his sleep plagued by wild, fractured images making up his dreams, being thrown from one to another much like a baseball. Troll roars melded with shouts, all accented by flaring blue light and screams.

Whose, he couldn’t tell. There had been plenty of screams since arriving in Britain.

He finally woke to an empty dormitory, clothes strewn next to his bed and feeling like he’d run the length of Hogwarts. Pushing himself up, his body ached despite the Wiggenweld.

A glance at his clock, and he scrambled off his bed. Digging through his trunks, he pulled out a clean uniform, and donning the robe Mr. Hill had given him, he grabbed his bag. Nothing like missing his second day of classes.

He made his way down to the common room, trying to figure out if he even wanted to leave the common room. No doubt, his, Eleanor and Natty’s exploits in Hogsmeade had ripped through the gossip circles by now, the tales growing wildly out of control.

It certainly hadn’t been the first time.

“Northrup,” Leander called, breaking him from his thoughts. “Professor Weasley is waiting for you.” He jerked his thumb towards the portrait.

What for? He wondered, giving a nod of thanks as he passed his dorm mate. Clambering through, he spotted Professor Weasley at the end of the hallway.

“Ah, there you are,” she said, as he approached. “How’re you feeling?”

He shrugged, not entirely sure what to say. “All right, I suppose.” Besides the aches, part of him still felt elated that he’d found his actual wand.

“Hmm…” she fixed him with the same inscrutable look as yesterday. “Well, I was hoping to have you start both potions and Herbology today,” she continued, as they started through the castle.

He ignored the flurry of whispers around them, uncomfortably used to them, as they made their way into the Grand Staircase. “Will I still be able to start Ancient Runes tomorrow?” he asked, as they passed a painting full of witches and wizards.

“I believe so,” Professor Weasley answered, somehow knowing exactly which staircase to take, as they moved between students and other staff, all hurrying in various directions. “Along with Muggle Studies. Although,” she paused to let some Hufflepuffs by. “Professor Howin did request that she would like at least one class with you in attendance.”

He blinked momentarily, feeling confused. “Err… Why?”

She beckoned, before continuing. “I believe she is, at least a little, curious if you have any experience with magical creatures. I believe that one of your sisters mentioned a kneazle?”

He flushed a little, before nodding. Of course one of his sisters had to say something… “She’s currently with my parents. Found her roaming the docks of Boston.”

They reached the Great Hall, pausing just outside it. “One more thing…” Professor Weasley pulled out an envelope, adorned with a red seal, darker than the one on the Hogwarts letter, and held it out. “Professor Fig asked me to give this to you as soon as possible.”

He took it, not sure what to expect.

“Have a good lunch.”

He nodded, absently, and Professor Weasley hurried off.

Entering the Great Hall, the murmurs spread around like a hissing wildfire, as he found a spot not far from Eleanor, Seraphina and Natty. He spotted Garreth not far from them, absorbed in a textbook of some sort.

Finding something to eat, he cracked the seal as most everyone filtered out.

Mr. Northrup, it read, in neat handwriting. Please come and see me after class this afternoon. I’ve managed to discover something in the locket we found at Gringotts. Professor Fig.

He stuffed the note into his field guide. It seemed like the safest place for now.

So Professor Fig had found something in the locket, and wanted to show him. He clearly trusted Professor Weasley enough to deliver the note to him, but was also paranoid about the whole situation enough to not mention what it was exactly he’d found.

Exiting the Great Hall, he made his way over to Central Hall, slowly starting to feel more relaxed, besides the hiss of whispers that continued to follow him. It was growing clearer and clearer thar the news of the troll attack had only upped his notoriety among the rest of the student population.

The rest of the students, especially some of the younger ones, huddled in whispering groups, before scattering as he approached. Clearly, if no one connected him with the dragon attack, they would with the troll in Hogsmeade.

He ended up, first at the top of the Astronomy tower and taking in the grounds, then in Professor Fig’s classroom, as he lectured to half a dozen students, mostly Ravenclaws. The professor paused, briefly, as he walked in and took a seat closer to the back, before continuing with the lecture at hand.

A bit of it caught his ear. “…Rackham was noted in the field of magical theory, in that he, along with several of the professors at Hogwarts at the time, helped ground the likes of…”

Rackham? He wondered, mind starting to piece together the happenings of the vault. Ranrok did say Rackham’s vault…. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear the chimes ending class, and didn’t realise it was over until Professor Fig was standing in front of him.

“Oh,” he startled, jerking out of his daze and standing. “Professor. It’s good to see you.”

“And I you,” Professor Fig agreed, before gesturing towards the front of the classroom. “Let’s talk in my office.”

He nodded, before carefully picking his way through the classroom, as he followed the professor up. Entering, he noticed that the office was as cluttered as the classroom below, further making him think Fig could’ve easily been a Ravenclaw.

“Thank Merlin you’re all right and in one piece,” Professor Fig started, as he started to uncover a map on his desk. “I heard about the attack. Trolls? In Hogsmeade?”

Something about it made his brain start to itch.

Swallowing, he nodded. “The trolls were wearing armour. They had the same dark, reddish glow to them, just like the dragon’s collar and the guard’s armband did.”

Professor Fig contemplated his words, before there was a knock at Fig’s door.

“Professor Fig?” came Eleanor’s voice. “You wanted to see me?”

“Come in, Miss Parkmoore,” Professor Fig called, and Eleanor entered. Her expression sat between unsure and confused.

“Cyrus,” she greeted, her voice cautious.

“Eleanor,” he returned, also feeling confused. “What-?”

“Goblin silver!” Professor Fig exclaimed, interrupting his thoughts. “Ranrok must be using it! To control the dragon, and possibly some of his followers.”

He and Eleanor shared a look. Eleanor seemed sceptical.

“I’ve never seen goblin silver glow the reddish hue the troll’s armour did, professor,” she noted. He gaped a little. Professor Fig didn’t seem quite as shocked.

“Then he must have imbued it,” he mused. “But why would he send trolls…”

“Because of me,” he interrupted, swallowing down his anxiety. “We… might’ve… overheard Ranrok talking with Victor Rookwood about it.”

Professor Fig’s eyebrows leaped. “Ranrok was in Hogsmeade?!” he exclaimed, clearly shocked. “With Victor Rookwood?!”

They both nodded, Eleanor scowling at the mention.

“Apparently, the trolls were Ranrok’s distraction,” she noted, her voice controlled. “So that Rookwood could get to Cyrus. Or me. He didn’t exactly specify.”

“Probably me,” he agreed. “And he possibly would have otherwise, had Sirona and the patrons at the Three Broomsticks not intervened.”

“Natty and I included,” Eleanor chipped in. “I do wish I’d been able to take a crack at him,” she mused, as a seeming afterthought.

“Be that as it may,” Professor Fig continued, returning to the conversation at hand. “This is certainly grave news indeed. If both Ranrok’s goblins and noted dark wizards are after you, then they clearly want what we found in that vault.”

“Sir, speaking of the vault… do you think that Ranrok is working with any of the other goblins at Gringotts?

Professor Fig shook his head. “I do not. Not anymore. While Gringotts goblins aren’t typically the friendliest of beings, they do have a great deal of integrity.” A stern look and another shake of his head. “No. Not after what happened to that poor banker, I daresay, that the goblins at Gringotts are no followers of Ranrok.”

He contemplated the professor’s words. “Then, Ranrok and Rookwood, they’re after the locket, aren’t they?” Pieces were slowly coming together in his head, and Eleanor was interested in what she was hearing.

“Quite possibly.” Professor Fig agreed.

“You also said that you wanted to show me – us,” he corrected quickly, gesturing to Eleanor, who now seemed intent on the map. “Something?”

Professor Fig pointed at the map. “Yes, yes. I discovered an inscription on the locket, which when I read it aloud, made this map in front of me appear… Quite the clever enchantment.”

Both he and Eleanor rounded either side of the desk. It looked to be a map of Hogwarts…

“It’s a map of Hogwarts,” Eleanor admired, tracing the various passageways, until her finger rested on the library.

“It is,” Professor Fig agreed. “But I’m not sure where exactly it leads…”

He leaned in for a better look, little bits of magic floating around the library. “It leads to the library,” he noted, finger paused not far from Eleanor’s, before moving to a part of the library he didn’t recognise. “It looks like it’s coming from here…”

“The Restricted Section, to be precise…” Eleanor muttered, recognition dawning. “And a bit beyond, yes?”

He nodded. “I can definitely see traces of magic there.” His finger followed after Eleanor’s, tracing the magic’s path.

“I suspected you’d be able to see something,” Professor Fig commented, a grin audible, as they stood up.

Excitement seemed to race through him. “Shall we go?” Professor Fig’s grin faded some, and a stern expression took over.

“While I do appreciate your enthusiasm,” he started. “And I’m just as eager to discover what we may find there… but,” the professor hesitated, facing them. “If our experience at Gringotts, along with what happened to Miriam, has taught me anything, it’s that the path we’re now on is terribly dangerous.”

A stern look to them both, and some of his enthusiasm cooled. “I would like you in particular, Mr. Northrup, to work with Professor Hecat a bit on your defensive magic, before we go ahead and continue.”

“And me, Professor?” Eleanor asked.

“You as well, Miss Parkmoore, and try and brew some more Wiggenweld Potion.” Professor Fig noted, and Eleanor nodded.

“But sir,” he exclaimed, still partly wanting to go. “How dangerous could the library be? Perhaps we’re only after a book?”

A flash of annoyance crossed Professor Fig’s face, and he gulped a little. “Perhaps we are,” Professor Fig agreed, voice stern. “But we should be prepared for anything.”

He nodded, recognising the momentary defeat. No need to isolate his closest ally.

“Once you’ve both honed you defensive magic further, come and see me, and we’ll talk.”

They both nodded, Eleanor picking up her book bag.

“You’re free to go, and I’ll let Professor Hecat know to expect you.”

He nodded, head spinning with the new information. “Thank you, again, professor.”

They exited out into Professor Fig’s classroom, before making their way out to the corridor beyond.

“Heard you’re defending Hogsmeade from trolls,” came a reedy voice he partially recognised. Eleanor stiffened next to him, as a tall-ish Slytherin walked by, wand out and tip softly glowing. “You know there is such a thing as trying too hard…”

It wasn’t until they reached the main area of the Defence tower that she muttered, “That was Ominis Gaunt. I believe you have Charms with him and Sebastian.”

He nodded, now recognising the Slytherin.

She continued, “My father was one of the aurors on duty that dealt with his family several years ago. I’d still watch your back around him and Sebastian.”

Pursing her lips, she made a decision. “You might as well come to Defence with me,” she said, contemplative. “I don’t think Hecat would mind, and it saves her the trouble of repeating herself.”

He really wanted to explore the library some more. But it also made sense... considering... “Might as well, if you don’t Professor Hecat will mind...”

“She won’t,” Eleanor agreed. “We should get moving, however.”

Entering the classroom, all Professor Hecat did was give him an odd look, before starting class. He opted for a desk towards the back of the classroom, two behind Eleanor.

He managed to take down some notes in his field guide, before watching the class practice against the dummy. Hecat managed to have one duel before class ended – Eleanor against a Hufflepuff with blonde hair.

Almost unsurprisingly, Eleanor won, handily. The Hufflepuff seemed annoyed by the fact, but politely shook her hand after.

Hecat managed to collect the summer essays from Eleanor’s class, while they waited for the rest of the class to leave.

“Ah, Miss Parkmoore, Mr. Northrup,” Hecat greeted them, rolls held under her arm. “I believe we have some matters to discuss...” They nodded.

“Now, I received a message from Professor Fig,” Hecat started, folding her hands. “He indicated something about bringing defensive skills up to snuff.” She gave both of them a scrutinising look. “And completing your Defensive magic assignments sooner.”

He squirmed a little at her look, not helped by the various objects with eyes.

“Now, Miss Parkmoore, you will learn the Full Body Bind, an excellent curse for halting one’s attackers in their tracks. You, of course, are welcome to teach Mr. Northrup afterwards.” Eleanor nodded, as Hecat turned to face him.

“For you, Mr. Northrup,” Hecat continued. “I would like to teach you Incendio. Useful for burning away spider webs, among other things.” There was something of a mischievous twinkle.

“But first, I have a few tasks I’d like for you each to complete.”

They nodded, understanding.

“Miss Parkmoore, I want you to practice your Incendio with me, along with the Disarming charm and a few others, tomorrow afternoon. No need to scare young master Brattleby too much.” A grin was shared between them, before Hecat turned to him again.

“Now, it may come as a surprise to you, Mr. Northrup, considering how much they wish to be secret. It’s astonishing how much some students think their professors don’t know.” The twinkle became stronger. “I want you to work with Mr. Brattleby next time Crossed Wands meets. When you’re finished, come and see me. We’ll begin work on Incendio then.”

He gaped a little. Of course she knew about Crossed Wands. “You know about Crossed Wands?”

Hecat smirked. “Of course I do. How else would Headmaster Black not know about it?”

He and Eleanor shared a grin. It did make sense… “Now, off. Once you’re finished, Mr. Northrup, you know where to find me,” Hecat dismissed them, before making her way up to her office.

Exiting, Eleanor turned to him. “Where you going now?”

He shrugged. “Might head to the library. See if I can figure out where the Ancient Runes class might be.”

Eleanor shuddered a little. “Have fun with that,” she sighed. “I think I’ll work on the essay for Muggle Studies, or History of Magic. Back in the common room.”

“I’ll see you there.”

She hurried off, robes rippling behind her. He made his way down as well, still feeling surprised, though not surprised as well, that Hecat knew of Crossed Wands.

“Seems Crossed Wands isn’t as secret as it’s believed to be…” he muttered to himself. He wasn’t going to tell that to Sebastian, however. Let the Slytherin have his illusion of secrecy.

Reaching the Transfiguration courtyard, Franklin dropped a tightly wound scroll into his hand. He didn’t recognise the handwriting, but pulled it open.

Cyrus! it read, the handwriting frantic. I was hoping you might be able to help me, considering the librarian doesn’t know you all that well yet. Meet me by the library. Cressida.

Re-rolling the scroll, he stuck it in his bag. He was heading to the library already… and Cressida seemed nice enough. Might as well help.

Entering Central Hall, he spotted Cressida near the library, looking upset. “I really have made a mess of things…” she bemoaned as he approached.

“Hello Cressida. Is everything all right?”

She shook her head, curls bouncing wildly. “No, everything is not all right, thank you for asking.” She lowered her voice. “I may be in a spot of trouble with the school librarian. You might remember how I was trying to cast non-verbally in the common room?”

He nodded, remembering large hat she’d been practicing on. “I do.”

“Well, I mastered that, thanks to Professor Ronen and his essay for Charms. So I’ve taken to creating my own charms.”

He felt like he could see where this was heading.

“Thought I’d perfected my ‘light as a feather’ charm, to use on my library books. My arms get so tired carrying them around all day…” she shrugged. “But, I must have mixed up the Latin word for ‘feather’ with the word for ‘bird’ in my incantation…”

He winced in sympathy. What little charm creating he’d attempted never went to plan to start.

“Because when I opened my bag, not too long ago, in the library, they literally took flight.” She frowned, clearly annoyed.

“In a way, that sounds brilliant, though,” he gave her a knowing look. “I take it that the librarian isn’t happy with that?”

Cressida shook her head. “Not at all. I’d collect the books myself and remove the charm, except, well, this isn’t the first time one of my charms has threatened the peace of the library. Amit Thakkar told Madam Scribner they were my books flying around. So Madam Scribner said that if I caused her any more trouble, she’d write my parents.” She scowled in frustration, before she had an idea.

“Perhaps you could get them for me?” she pondered. “There are only five books, and Madam Scribner wouldn’t be suspicious of a new student looking around…”

“Considering I’ve spent some time in there, I doubt it,” he agreed. “Though, why did Amit…?” he gave Cressida a questioning look, and she nodded. “Why did he tell Madam Scribner they were your books?”

Cressida sighed. “To be perfectly honest… I don’t think he meant any harm in doing so. I think he was rather impressed, actually. Bragging on my behalf, so to speak.” She shrugged, a slight smile on her face. “Amit may spend a lot of time gazing at the stars, but he knows a good charm when he sees one.”

He laughed a little to himself. “I think I’m up to doing it.”

“Oh would you?!” she exclaimed. “I’d very much appreciate it, considering that one of the books is my diary.” She flushed a little, dropping her voice in embarrassment. “I’d rather it not fall into the wrong hands.”

“Of course, Cressida.”

“If you can collect them, and bring them back to me, I can remove the charm.” She bobbed anxiously. “I’d hate to find out what Scribner would do if she got them down… Here,” she pulled a piece of parchment out, before scribbling a short list of titles and holding it out. “The books I sent flying.”

Sounds easy enough… he thought, taking it. “I’ll be back with them shortly,” he told Cressida, who nodded and returned to the chair she’d previously occupied.

Entering the library, he spotted one flapping around the large globe. I’m going to have to use Accio to grab them… he noted, extracting his wand and hoping the librarian wasn’t going to throw him out as well for using magic. “Accio…” he whispered, pointing at the book.

It tumbled towards him and he deftly caught it, quickly stuffing it into his own bag. Got it. One down, four to go.

Moving further, he spotted another coming out of the Restricted Section. “Accio.” Catching it, it wiggled, clearly not wanting to be caught. A flash of handwriting caught his attention, along with the cover.

This must be Cressida’s diary… he noted, taking a brief glance at the page, before stuffing it in his bag. The most he made out was something about Garreth being a menace in potions and slowly getting used to Scottish cuisine. I’d want this back too, if I were her…

Before he continued, another student bumped into him, dropping a note. Unfolding it, he noted it was from Lucan. Good news! We have a new training dummy, it read, and he suspected Hecat was behind that. On which you can practice spell combinations – and you’re up for round two of Crossed Wands. When ready, come and find me. – Lucan B.

He folded the note up, sticking it in his pocket. Three more books.

Looking around, he almost missed the one fluttering near the upper level, hidden a little by the glow of the setting sun. “Accio…!” Two more…

Not seeing any more at ground level, he headed for one of the spiral staircases. The others must be upstairs as well. Spotting now familiar bust, he detoured, lighting the floo flame at the back.

Pausing, he glanced around, just in case there was another over this way. There wasn’t. Climbing the stairs, he also took in the Latin that denoted the subjects kept, but didn’t note anything that might be ancient runes.

Reaching the top, he looked around. Grabbing the nearby field guide page, the sound of flapping pages caught his ear.

Either a field guide page, or one of Cressida’s books – or both. Following the sound, he hurried over, finding both a page and one of the books.

And the librarian, annoyance clear on her face. He slowed to a stop as she turned to face him. “Madam… Scribner?” he stammered, surprised.

The librarian gave a short nod, eyeing the wand he still held. “Yes.”

He quickly made to stuff it in his robe pocket, but not before she asked, “I hope you’re not practicing any new spells in here as well.”

He shook his head, before (rather cheekily) accio’ing the field guide page. “Only old ones.” Another Accio, and he grabbed Cressida’s book as well, as a look of outrage appeared on the librarian’s face.

He bolted for the stairs as he stuffed the book into his bag. One more to go… A glimmer of movement caught his eye, and he started down the nearest staircase. A few steps down, and he spotted her last book. “Accio.”

It soared up, and he stuck it in his bag, and bolted down the staircase. No need to linger much longer. Back to Cressida…

Exiting the library, he made a beeline for where Cressida still sat. She perked up as he approached. “Oh, Cyrus, hello.”

“Hello Cressida,” he greeted. “I managed to find and collect your books, including your diary.”

She seemed to perk up further. “Oh, what a relief!” Some of the tension seemed to vanish from her. “Thank you. I’ll happily take the heavy lot off your hands now.”

He nodded, carefully extracting the books from his bag. No need for them to be loose in Central Hall. Quickly handing over her diary, he further extracted the other four books, as they tried to become airborne again. “Here we go…” He handed them over.

Cressida gave a happier sigh, as she clutched at the stack. “Oh, well, lesson learned. I certainly won’t be practicing my charms in the library any time soon.” She promptly shoved them into her bag, as a contemplative look emerged. “Now, where did I go wrong? I have to work it out…”

She toyed with the small book that was her diary. “Perhaps I should start by brushing up on my Latin.”

He shrugged. “Good a place as any.”

“Thank you again, Cyrus,” she said, finally stuffing her diary into her bag.

“You’re welcome Cressida,” he returned. “I hope you’re successful in figuring out your spell.” He headed off, back to the main level of Central Hall.

“Glad some people are trustworthy,” he heard Cressida mutter. “Certainly wouldn’t want anyone else reading it…”

He headed back down, briefly waving to Lenora, who waved back from where she sat at the fountain.

“I heard Lucan Brattleby is looking for you, Cyrus,” she mentioned, and he nodded.

“Thanks Lenora.”

Cressida joined Lenora at the fountain as he moved off.

He ended up wandering down to the boathouse, briefly greeting Garreth as they crossed paths. It was serene, being down on the water, the slowly setting sun reflecting off it.

His stomach grumbled a little, reminding him he needed to eat. Not that he felt like eating, but it would probably be for best.

Entering the Entrance Hall, he was besieged by his siblings. Both Kendal and Gwyneth nearly broke his ribs with their nearly suffocating hugs, and even Hayden insisted on a brief, but tight, squeeze that told how much he’d been terrified by everything.

They all ended up eating at the end of the Gryffindor table, even if Hayden fled as soon as he was finished. He sighed, part of him annoyed by the rivalry between his house and Hayden’s. He was still his brother, even if they were in different houses.

Eleanor dropped next to him after his sisters left.

“What’s this I hear about you creating chaos in the library?” she asked, just as he was sipping his pumpkin juice. He choked a little, the liquid trying to go down the wrong pipe.

“Excuse me?!” he eventually got out. The most he’d done was accidentally sass off to the librarian, before fleeing to avoid detention.

“Apparently, it’s gotten around that you did something in the library this afternoon…”

“All I did,” he interrupted, “was help Cressida retrieve her books, and maybe sass off to the librarian. On accident.”

An eyebrow arched in response. “Really?” He rolled his eyes at her disbelieving look.

“Really. Anything else is a misconstrued addition.” He was all too aware of how quickly a story could be warped beyond recognition.

Her expression turned contemplative. “Good to know,” she casually muttered. Their chatter turned to classes, and he peppered her with questions about years past.

It was later, back in the common room, that he noticed some of the younger years filtering out of the common room as they worked on their essay for Charms. Eleanor noted his confusion.

“Professor Shah likes to begin with the first years, before the other years, though I suspect we’ll end up with a refresher of her introductory lecture.”

“Because of me?”

She shrugged, her hair bouncing a little. “Possibly. And because it’s been a few years for the rest of us.”

The rest of the night passed without note, aside from a rather bizarre dream, involving Eleanor and a dark forest.

The sound of Leander’s alarm clock ringing, followed by the increasingly common sound of pillow thwacks, told him it was time to get up.

Morning routine finished, he and Garreth headed down to the Great Hall, where there seemed to be fewer whispers.

Charms went smoothly, and he even managed to answer a few questions, and just edged out Natty in their rematch of Summoner’s Court. And without dropping any of his balls.

He spent part of the time between Charms and lunch quietly roaming the castle, finding various field guide pages.

Until Lucan’s note fell out of his field guide, and he caught a glimpse of one of Hecat’s assignments he’d scribbled down. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to at least use the training dummy. Then he’d be able to tell Professor Hecat he was coming along in his assignment.

He decided to head outside and over to the stone circle he’d seen Tuesday.

Entering the clock tower, he noticed plenty of other students milling about, and Lucan chatting with several others. He also noticed Natty was there, along with Sebastian.

The group around Lucan dispersed, and he approached. “Hello Lucan,” he greeted. “Might I use the training dummy?”

“Ah, Cyrus, you got my message!” Lucan cheered. “Of course! Let me go fetch it, and I’ll give you a list of combinations to practice.” He procured a piece of parchment, decorated with various symbols, which he took.

He nodded, before Lucan disappeared behind him. Stretching a little, he took in the duel happening in front of him. None of the students looked familiar, though the last name of Dagworth sounded vaguely familiar.

Lucan emerged as the duel finished. “Here we are,” he cheered, pushing the large dummy beside him. “Just remember to cast all your spells before the dummy lands.”

He nodded, piecing together what Lucan was saying.

“And, if you need to stop before you’ve finished all of them, let me know.”

“Thank you, Lucan.”

Lucan glanced around. “There seems to be a lull right now, and I should sort out the next few rounds of duelling…”

Lucan hurried off, and he carefully manoeuvred the training dummy down. No need to hit anyone else with a stray spell…

It was harder than it looked, even with his duelling experience.

The first couple had been easy enough: Accio followed by a chain of basic casts, and the same following Levioso. He noticed, dimly, that basic casts occurred in sets of four, each one stronger than the previous.

Which complicated the third set, which daisy-chained the two together, requiring only three after the initial Accio. Somehow, he managed to pace himself.

“Well done,” Lucan greeted him, as he brought the dummy back over. “I’d say that was enough practice for now. You looked good out there.”

He flushed a little, feeling awkward. “Thank you, Lucan.”

“I say it’s better to discover your weaknesses during practice than during a duel!” Lucan grinned. “You’ll be a fearsome challenger now!”

“Thank you again Lucan.”

“Are you planning on duelling as well?” There was a sense of anxiousness coming from Lucan, as they surveyed the duel underway.

“Certainly thinking about it.” It would be good to finish off the assignment now, rather than later.

“Excellent. Ready for another round?”

He nodded. “I am. With Natty, if that’s okay.”

Lucan beamed. “Brilliant. You’re up next!”

He headed over to the far side, where he was joined by Natty, followed shortly by their opponents.

“That is Constance Dagworth, along with Hector Jenkins and Nerida Roberts,” Natty muttered, as Constance gave a mocking bow.

“Ready to get thrashed?” she asked, taking her stance.

“Apologies in advance,” Hector continued, his voice cool.

“And… begin!” came Lucan’s voice. Their opponents raised shields. Constance, a yellow tinged one, and Nerida and Hector, purple tinged ones.

This one was also a blur of spells, and he decided he preferred duelling with Natty instead of Sebastian. Less chances of flying flagstone. That was not to say that she didn’t know her way with her wand. Not the slightest.

He could just tell that she was also refraining from using wandless magic, as well as her wand.

Knocking Hector to his feet, Lucan called an end. Claps and murmurs followed him back to where Lucan stood.

“Bravo!” Lucan cheered, as he approached.

“I gave it my all…”

“You did indeed.” There was excitement from Lucan. “The other duellists have already taken notice of you, but after that last round, they’ll really have it in for you.”

He gulped. Not a fun thought.

“You’d better keep practicing,” Lucan noted sagely. “If you want a chance at winning, or even surviving, the next round.”

Thank you for that deeply unsettling thought, Lucan… he thought sarcastically, though only nodded.

“I’ll let you know when the final round is, then,” Lucan finished. “I hope to see you there.”

“Thank you again, Lucan,” he said. “You as well.”

Grabbing his school bag, he left the Clocktower, as bells sounded for lunch. Assignment’s all finished, he mused, as he crossed back into Gryffindor tower.

Natty joined him at lunch, noting that her potion’s class had been dismissed early, as someone’s potion had broken all over the floor of the classroom barely two minutes into class.

Professor Sharp had been furious, she noted. Enough that she’d chosen to avoid Central Hall for the rest of the morning.

Eleanor joined them shortly after, and even Garreth and Leander took spots nearby. Sebastian gave a short nod as he passed.

Lunch finished, he headed towards Hecat’s classroom. Defence passed smoothly, turning in his essay along with everyone else.

Class finished, Professor Hecat waved him up, as the rest of the class filtered out. “I trust Mr. Brattleby was able to accommodate you, and that you found success in your…” she glanced around. “Endeavours?”

He nodded. “I finished the assignment, Professor. Lucan was understanding.”

“Glad to hear of it,” she replied. “Then you should be ready to learn Incendio.”

“Should be, Professor?”

Hecat’s expression turned serious. “Yes. I’m sorry to say, I’ve visited more than enough careless colleagues from the Ministry at St. Mungo’s to tell you that fire is a fickle servant.”

He winced in understanding.

“Your spell-casting has impressed me thus far,” she continued. “Even moreso with your new wand. But I want you to maintain your focus, please. I would rather we not end today’s lesson with your robes on fire.”

There was a slight grin on her face that had him cracking one as well, and he nodded, understanding.

“Now, wand up. Let us begin.”

He pulled his wand out, appreciating the warmth of the wood beneath his fingers, as Hecat pulled hers.

“I want you to focus on my wand movement…” she continued. He carefully watched as she drew out a vaguely flame-shaped triangle. His hand shook a little as he followed, a little nervous.

Hecat fixed him with a stern look. “Concentrate, Mr. Northrup, and keep your wand steady.”

He nodded, taking a few breaths. Feeling calmer, he focused. Tracing the wand movement, Hecat grinned.

“Good work, Mr. Northrup,” she said. “Feel free to practice in the classroom before you go.” She gestured towards the back of the classroom. “I’ve set up a few targets for you, if you so wish.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

He headed to the back of the classroom, before lining up to the dummy situated between two black metal braziers. He also noticed some scorch marks on the floor around them.

“Incendio!” he shouted, pointing at the dummy. There was a small boom, as fire erupted from his wand, and sending him stumbling back a step or two. He could feel the heat of it singe off some of the hair from his hand, as it impacted.

At least one of the braziers was now alight, and the dummy partly on fire. It dissipated some after a moment from the dummy, with the brazier staying lit.

“Well done, Mr. Northrup,” Professor Hecat congratulated. “I think you’re getting it. Keep at it, and do try to not incinerate yourself.”

He laughed a little to himself, before blasting the dummy again. His eyes watered at little at the heat of it as the dummy rolled towards him, and as Hecat coolly watched.

“Setting things ablaze is certainly cathartic, isn’t it?” she mused, as he stared at the blazing dummy. He nodded.

There was something cathartic about occasionally setting something on fire, though part of him hoped that it wouldn’t become too commonplace.

Shaking himself, he headed back over to Hecat. “Thank you, again, professor. This should help me.”

“I’m pleased to hear it,” Hecat smiled. “I shall inform Professor Fig that you’re ready for what’s next.”

He nodded, before exiting the classroom, and nearly running into Eleanor.

“Oh, hello.”

“Cyrus,” she greeted in return. “I’m surprised you’re here.”

He shrugged. “Happened to finish my assignment earlier than expected. I could say the same for you.”

She huffed out an irritated sigh. “Apparently, the potions classroom is still unusable, and Professor Sharp is reluctant to clean out another classroom, it seems, so early in the year.”

Ah. “Good to know… I think.”

“Speaking of classes…” she mused, as he moved towards the stairs. “Shouldn’t you be in Ancient Runes?”

He swore mentally. He had completely forgotten about both Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies. “Thank you!” he shouted, as he sprinted down the nearby stairs.

Somehow, he managed to not be late, sliding into the seat beside Natty, as the professor read, “Northrup, Cyrus.” He raised his hand.

“Here.”

The class passed without too much drama; even as Professor Willard seemed unimpressed by his translation of the text they were working on, and seemed to sneer whenever he answered a question correctly.

Natty eyed him carefully, as class ended. No doubt, it seemed he had a storm cloud above him.

It stayed with him through dinner, as he moodily picked at his food, barely listening to what chatter was swirling around him. Something about the text they were translating also nagged at him. Like, for whatever reason, it could be important.

But how?

Returning to Gryffindor tower, he tried to focus on any of the given essays, but gave up as exhaustion caught up with him.

Thursday passed quietly into Friday, the nightmares minimised by the exhaustion. Even if he found himself rising just before Leander’s alarm sounded.

Taking advantage of the empty washroom, he quickly finished his morning routine, before slipping out of the dorm. There were a couple other Gryffindors in the common room, though still asleep.

He received a few letters during breakfast, with one of them a chiding from his mother about forgetting to write that he’d made it safely to school and which house he’d been sorted into.

Apparently Kendal had done it for him, owling them a letter, complaining that he’d been late to the Sorting Ceremony and had subsequently been placed in Gryffindor.

The other letters had been from his father and younger siblings, all eager to hear stories of his short time there.

After breakfast, he spent the morning talking with the Muggle Studies teacher, a Professor Hatten, who seemed to fawn over a recently acquired cannon between puffs of smoke. Not that he seemed to know what it was called.

Or that modern battles weren’t fought with ones like this.

Otherwise, Hatten seemed like the most easy going of the professors, despite the fact that he only had eleven students for the class. It took quite a bit of effort for him not to laugh. Eleanor seemed to be constantly shaking her head.

It wasn’t until after lunch that Professor Fig summoned him and Eleanor to his office.

“Ah, there you are,” he greeted as they entered.

“Hello professor,” Eleanor greeted, taking a seat in the armchair she occupied last time.

“Professor,’ he greeted, taking the seat next to Eleanor, and hoping something was going to happen.

“I’m pleased to hear both of you working on your defensive magic with Professor Hecat,” Fig started. “And she tells me you’ve taken rather well to your new wand.”

He gave a short laugh. “I should hope so, professor,” he grinned. “Considering it’s my old wand.”

Fig blinked, stunned at his words before giving a short laugh as well. “How?!” He glanced at Eleanor, who seemed confused.

Grinning, and a little flushed, he recounted what had happened at Ollivander’s.

“Hm,” Professor Fig acknowledged, before returning to the conversation. “Well, in any case, you must continue to work with her, along with your other professors, to improve your skills, both of you.”

They nodded.

“Now,” he continued, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “I don’t wish to postpone our visit to the library any long-”

The door to Fig office banged open, and he was promptly interrupted by the appearance of Headmaster Black. He froze, halfway standing.

“Fig! I have work for you,” the headmaster ordered, stepping inside the office space. “Come.” He turned to leave, as Professor Fig protested, gesturing to them.

“Headmaster, I am with students! And my schedule -!”

He sunk back at the icy indifference on the headmaster’s face. Even Eleanor seemed to be trying to make herself smaller.

“Both of your students can wait,” Black snapped irritably. “As can your schedule. Indefinitely.” The headmaster scowled, before twisting the knife. “I would think, after all the trouble you caused me with Osric,” The derision was clear in the headmaster’s tone. “That you would be eager to make amends.”

He punctuated his statement with a disappointed look to Professor Fig. “My office. Five minutes.” he barked, before turning heel and leaving.

They waited a moment, before carefully getting to their feet. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears. “…Professor?” There was an uncomfortable sinking feeling somewhere near his stomach.

“That man is exasperating,” Professor Fig fumed. “Unfortunately, I believe our trip to the library will have to wait a bit longer.”

He groaned. “But, Professor…”

Fig shook his head. “No. Not a chance.” A pause. “It would be unwise to provoke our illustrious headmaster at the moment.”

He sighed, reluctant to put it off further.

“I shall find you, whenever I finish whatever toils the headmaster has decided I must endure...” Fig grumbled. “For now, I want you both to focus on what schoolwork you currently have.”

They nodded, him more reluctantly than Eleanor. “Yes, professor.”

“Now, I believe you both have a study period, yes?” More nods. “I hope to see you soon, then.”

On that, they were dismissed, and Fig hurried out, pulling his robes around him.

Picking up their bags, they followed him out.

chapter 10

#A Fifth Year's Guide to Hogwarts Chaos #chapter 9 #fic #cyrus northrup #Hogwarts Legacy

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ellie-e-marcovitz · 10 months

Text

Eight: Clean Up and Some Answers

Officer Singer appariated away, leaving the three of them to start placing the area back into order.

There was a moment’s pause, as they tried to figure out where to start. Broken stone and wood littered the ground. Tea shop tables and chairs were strewn in front of the shop, as were the flowers that decorated the shop.

Even the statue of Hengist of Woodcroft was damaged. He hoped Reparo worked, considering he hadn’t been able to repair the statue back at Hogwarts. Yet. Maybe Kendal or Gwyneth would know why.

Turning back to the damage, he hurried over to the Hengist statue, completely missing the high, reedy, and rather posh voice.

“Hello there!” it exclaimed. “A moment, if you would.” He caught Eleanor and Natty sharing a look.

Natty seemed to roll her eyes, before conceding. “I will see what Mr. Hill wants.”

Eleanor acknowledged, though he barely heard what she said. “Reparo,” he muttered, his attention fully on the statue in front of him.

There was a great whooshing, as the stone fragments in front of him reformed back into the village founder. So it worked well… Turning to the tea shop, he managed to repair most of the damage there, the flowers remaining stubbornly on the ground.

Well… he mused to himself. One less thing for Auror Singer to worry about… The potted plants righted themselves, the pots reforming around them.

Eleanor had repaired the stall near the statue, returning it to a state better than before, followed by the stack of newspapers, and finished with repairing what he couldn’t of the tea shop.

Moving boxes away from the entry, they teamed up to repair the Honeydukes display.

“I’ll be with Natty at Gladrags,” she told him, pointing at the shop in question. “Think you can handle everything else?”

He nodded. “I think so. Shouldn’t be too far behind you.”

She nodded, briskly crossing the circle, before disappearing inside.

Crossing, he turned his focus to the destroyed house. Whoever lived there was lucky to be out of it when the troll crashed through.

He took a deep breath, raising his wand. “Reparo!” he called out, pushing his magic. The house rebuilt itself, and he didn’t look away until it was all back together, before nearly collapsing. He felt dizzy as the adrenaline faded and the aches and pains started revealing themselves.

He blearily watched as crates and barrels also moved away nearby, further barricades by whomever had let the trolls loose. Looking around, it seemed everything was back in order.

It was also then that he realised he’d fought a troll with his bookbag hanging on his shoulder, and two spellcrafts still in his pocket. Opening his bag, he stuffed the spellcrafts in, and checked that the packet of Dittany hadn’t broken.

It hadn’t, which he was glad for. Making his way to Gladrags, he found a field guide page for the shop, but barely read it, before stuffing it in and pushing the door open.

“Ah, Cyrus!” Natty exclaimed. Eleanor looked up from the outfit she was scrutinising. “We were just talking about you!”

“Hello, sir,” he greeted, somehow disguising his exhaustion. “I believe we haven’t met.”

“Allow me to introduce myself, then,” the shopkeeper said, fixing his spectacles with one hand before returning it to his teacup. “Augustus Hill, clothier extraordinaire. I should like to thank you for your remarkable bravery fighting those trolls.”

Eleanor came up behind him, clutching a package of… something, clearly curious as to where Mr. Hill was going with this.

“Not to mention, your help in restoring Hogsmeade to its rightful state.”

“I was happy to help.” “Very happy to help.” He and Eleanor chimed, their words overlapping.

Mr. Hill looked between them both, before continuing. “Frankly, both of you deserve Order of Merlins! But I think I can offer you,” he pointed at him, delicately tipping his teacup in doing so. “Something far more useful and practical.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed. I own Gladrags Wizardwear,” he gestured to the shop. “And, among my inventory, I have a number of unique items that can afford certain… protections, if you will. Life saving ones. And, as I suspected this won’t be your last dangerous encounter, I would like to offer you one such set of robes. In thanks for what you have done today.”

He balked a little at the offer. It really wasn’t necessary… But part of him also suspected it would be considered rude, if he did turn them down. “I- well, thank you Mr. Hill. That is very generous of you.”

Mr. Hill seemed to wave off his thanks. “It’s the least I can do. Now,” he continued, coming out from behind the counter, pulling a robe with him. “Let’s try this on for size…”

Mr. Hill pulled him over to a corner of the shop, and had him take off the school robe he was currently wearing, along with his bookbag. He was (admittedly) reluctant to part with it, considering it was technically his travelling jacket, just transfigured.

A couple pins, and whispered spells, later, it fit just about the same. It even seemed a little lighter. Eleanor, thankfully, had grabbed his other one, placing it over her arm.

She handed it to him after he hopped off the stool and Mr. Hill had replaced the pins on his lapel.

“Thanks,” he noted, picking up his bag and stuffing it inside.

“What an extraordinary introduction to Hogsmeade,” Natty teased as they exited the shop into fading daylight. He laughed a little in agreement. “I would say that we, and you in particular, have earned at least a Butterbeer.”

“I’ll agree with that,” Eleanor chimed in, placing her package in her own bag.

“Shall we head to the Three Broomsticks, then?”

“Sounds like a good idea.” He grinned, feeling light despite the bruises and aches.

“Just down this way, then.” Natty gestured, and he noticed that the crates and barrels that had been there were gone. No doubt some swift work by any of the aurors remaining in Hogsmeade.

They started down the street, Eleanor and Natty picking up a previous conversation, as he took in the surroundings.

“Oh,” Natty suddenly said. “If the Three Broomsticks isn’t too busy, you might even get to meet Sirona.”

“Who?” he startled a little. Natty seemed a little concerned, before patting him on the shoulder.

“She is the owner of the Three Broomsticks. She can be a charming hostess, and she’s also a powerful witch. Good one to know.”

He filed that away, before something caught his eye, the briefest glimpse of a vaguely familiar top hat. One he couldn’t explain why. He stopped Natty, leading Eleanor to pause next to her.

Something about this was unsettling to him. He silently hurried over to the stone wall, managing to find a spot to watch without being seen. Eleanor and Natty followed, Eleanor gasping in recognition of the two figures.

One was Ranrok, no doubt about it. The other, the wizard, was unfamiliar to him, though clearly not Eleanor and Natty, who both looked equally terrified and outraged.

Another figure, behind Ranrok, seemed equally despicable.

“You said you could get to the child when they came to Hogsmeade,” Ranrok growled, clearly not pleased with the wizard. “That all you needed was a distraction. I gave you a distraction!”

The wizard seemed equally upset, if not angry. “I just watched students take down your ‘distractions’.” The wizard snarled in return.

Ranrok’s face curdled, showing only the briefest moment of upset, before turning nasty.

“Who is this child anyway?” the wizard asked further. “What are you not telling me?”

“All you need to know,” Ranrok growled, voice growing chilly. “Is that if you cannot get to the child, then you have no value to me.” Ranrok leaned around the wizard, as if he could sense them at the top of the stairs.

“Let’s go,” he breathed.

He started backing up, followed swiftly by Natty and Eleanor pulling him back onto the street. He did not want to tangle with Ranrok right now. Not with how drained he was feeling.

They hurried now, him following Natty and Eleanor directly to the Three Broomsticks.

He glanced back, nervously, as Natty asked, “Did they see us?”

He shook his head. He hoped not. “I don’t think so.”

“What was that goblin doing with Victor Rookwood?” Natty asked, Eleanor’s expression turning to panic.

His head started spinning again, his ears ringing. He felt sick, nausea creeping up. “Ranrok is working with Victor Rookwood?” Something about it all felt …familiar, in some odd way, one he couldn’t explain.

Natty and Eleanor’s expressions could only be terror. “The goblin from the Daily Prophet?” Eleanor asked, eyes wide.

“Of course!” Natty exclaimed. “That’s where I’ve seen him. I knew I’d seen the picture somewhere!”

“We’d better get in the Three Broomsticks, then, fast. No need for Rookwood to find us here.” Eleanor urged, pointing towards the top of the stairs they were below. Rookwood was searching, back to them for the moment.

They sprinted off, rounding the pub and bursting through the doors, pausing just inside. Several heads popped up, before returning to their drinks.

Heading for the bar, they passed an older goblin, who seemed little like Ranrok, as he was headed out. Taking the empty stools, he caught his breath, Eleanor and Natty flanking him on either side.

He dropped his bag, not needing the extra weight on his shoulders for now.

“Ah, now what can I-” came an unfamiliar voice approaching. He blankly took in the face attached, his mind buzzing with other thoughts. “Oh, there’s a face I haven’t seen before.”

Natty shook his shoulder a little. “This is Cyrus Northrup,” she introduced.

He held up a hand in absent greeting. “It’s my first time here.”

“Ah.” Was all she said. “Welcome. Miss Parkmoore.” Sirona greeted.

“Sirona.” Eleanor gave a polite nod. Sirona pulled her wand.

“Butterbeers are on me, considering you’re the ones who fought the trolls.” Nods all around, and he felt jittery, as the newest wave of adrenaline started ebbing. Three tankards floated off the shelf, gently landing below the taps of the massive barrels.

“I heard about the attack,” Sirona noted, clearly taking in their scratched up faces and the bruises that were no doubt blooming there as well. “I shall be looking in on the other shopkeepers and residents shortly.”

Filled, the tankards floated in front of them, settling on the bar top. He clutched at his. Sirona glanced at both Natty and Eleanor. “I am glad to see you two escaped injuries.” A curious glance at him. “And you.”

“Thanks to this one,” Natty praised, as he took a drink. It almost tasted like butterscotch ice cream, in a way. “Single-handedly brought down a mountain troll.”

He tried to shrug it off. She had helped, and Eleanor had done battle with one as well. He set down the tankard, though didn’t let go of it.

“Is that right?” Sirona asked, intrigued. “Well done.”

Another shrug. “Thanks for this,” he mumbled, not overly interested in the praise. Both Eleanor and Natty were far better at duelling in some ways. He’d just gotten really lucky.

“My pleasure.” Sirona acknowledged, wiping at the bar top, almost absently. “I will say this… Trolls? In Hogsmeade? That’s never happened before, at least as far as I know.”

“Oh?”

Sirona nodded. “Something’s not right. The only brutes we tend to deal with are-”

The doors to the pub creaked open again, revealing the two wizards they’d seen, one of them Victor Rookwood. He didn’t recognise Rookwood’s companion.

Sirona’s face contorted in displeasure. “Hmph,” she huffed. “How timely…” She moved from behind the bar, clearly used to confronting both.

He drew his wand, as did Natty and Eleanor, clearly ready to fight.

“Was that Logdok I just saw?” Rookwood asked, clearly attempting to sound charming. “Your clientele is not what it used to be Sirona.” His tone morphed to almost mocking, not that it seemed to faze Sirona.

Or she was very good at masking her emotions. “Not to worry, Victor. Once you two leave, the calibre of my clientele will greatly improve.” She retorted, almost bored.

Rookwood’s companion reached for his wand, clearly taking it as an insult.

“Wouldn’t do that, Theophilus,” Sirona warned. “If I were you.”

That made Rookwood’s companion Theophilus Harlow, and he gulped, remembering what Professor Weasley had mentioned about avoiding them.

Even Rookwood felt that it was unnecessary. “Come now, Harlow,” he drawled. “No need for theatrics.”

Eleanor eased off her barstool, clearly worried, wand still drawn. Rookwood pointed at him. “I’m only here for this one, anyway.”

He and Natty joined her, and Sirona stepped forward. “My friend is enjoying a well-earned Butterbeer.” Sirona warned.

Rookwood moved forward despite the landlady in front of him. “I only want a quick word…”

He took a step back, clutching his wand. Natty twirled hers, with Eleanor’s inching up in front of her. He also spotted several others, their wands raising as well. His followed, pointing at Rookwood. It even sparked briefly, clearly sensing his agitation.

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me,” Sirona’s voice grew stony and her eyes darkened. “I said, my friend is busy.”

Rookwood’s expression seemed a mix of outrage and surprise, before the mask cooly returned. “One would think you’d all had enough bloodshed for one day,” he spat, before beckoning to Harlow. “Come, Theophilus,” his tone eerily calm. “I think the Three Broomsticks isn’t what it used to be. Let’s take our Galleons elsewhere…”

He turned to leave, before looking back. “Can’t drink Butterbeer forever…” he mocked, before slinking out the doors.

He slumped back on the barstool and groaned. Sirona’s comment didn’t entirely help. “It seems you’ve made an… unfortunate enemy.” She warned, “Watch your back. Rookwood and Harlow are worse than any troll you might encounter around here.”

Both Eleanor and Natty turned to face him, curiosity and terror mingling on their faces. Natty seemed particularly scared.

“Trolls… Ranrok… and Rookwood… What are you not telling us?” she wondered aloud, clearly shaken by the events of the afternoon. He sighed, not even sure where to start or what he could tell them without breaking the confidence of Professor Fig.

Looking between them, he broke. “I- I promise to tell you both everything that I can,” he started, probably equally as scared. “It’s just – perhaps it’s best to do later. I need to talk with Professor Fig, first, I think.”

They shared another look. Eleanor looked at her watch, trying to distract herself.

“Well,” she started. “I think now is a good time to head back to the castle. If we hurry, we can still get some dinner.”

He nodded, finishing off the last of his butterbeer, before placing a couple of Galleons next to his tankard and grabbing his book bag. Waving goodbye to Sirona, he followed Eleanor and Natty outside.

The sky had darkened while they were inside, and with the streetlamps lit up, it reminded him a little of his old home in Massachusetts.

“I’m certainly glad Sirona was there,” Natty mentioned, pausing near Ollivanders, Eleanor next to her. She seemed as tired as he felt.

“And that she isn’t intimidated by thugs like Rookwood and Harlow,” he added, feeling exhausted. He wasn’t wanting to trek all the way back to Hogwarts.

“Professor Weasley will certainly hear about the troll attack soon, if she hasn’t already. I don’t want her to worry.” Natty commented.

“Is there a quicker way back to Hogwarts?” he asked. Natty and Eleanor shared a look, which he was getting a little sick of.

“There is…” Eleanor started. “It’s Floo flames, though, and I think once we’re in the common room, we might not be moving much.”

“Plus, most of the house will be there most likely.” Natty added. “We could use the fireplace at the Three Broomsticks.”

“Good idea,” Eleanor agreed. "Might be more comfortable, at the very least.”

He nodded. “Very well. Works well enough for me.”

They re-entered the Three Broomsticks, and after a short discussion with Sirona, were allowed to use the fireplace to travel back to Hogwarts and the Gryffindor common room.

Everyone was there, including Professor Weasley, as they emerged from the fireplace, covered in soot, and startling some younger years. They, no doubt, looked to be messes. Soot, sweat, maybe some blood (and Wiggenweld stains) all decorated their clothes and faces, and he felt a little like he’d emerged from a Dickens novel.

Everything after, for the most part, was a blur. Professor Weasley had quizzed the three of them over the events in Hogsmeade, Eleanor and Natty telling most of the story. He added his own parts, mostly about gathering supplies and what he could remember about fighting the troll.

Otherwise, he kept quiet. It was only his first full day at Hogwarts, and already, it had been quite eventful, even for Hogwarts. They’d been given food, which he only partially finished, before downing one of Eleanor’s Wiggenwelds and sent up to his dorm.

Eleanor had also given him his coat back, before she and Natty headed to their own.

Tossing his coat and robe on his trunks, he crashed, not even bothering to change into his pyjamas. It, however, was far from restful, his sleep plagued by wild, fractured images making up his dreams, being thrown from one to another much like a baseball.

Chapter 9

#A Fifth Year's Guide to Hogwarts Chaos #chapter 8 #fic #cyrus northrup #hogwarts legacy

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