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aelin-and-feyre · 7 years

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A School of Fire and Shadow (Part 4)

This is one of the last chapters in Year 1, but please remember that at the moment, these characters are eleven or twelve years old and may not react to situations in the same way their much more mature characters in the books might. Thank you!

Tagging: @starzablaze @hannahnosretep @runesandfaes@mayhemories@illyrian-queen @bluephoenix222 @carolineherr15@rugrat-mama@rowanismybae @themajorindianfangirl @a-courtof-fangirls-and-fanfics @rhysand-and-rowan @notjustanyoldfangirl@gcarroll @illyrianinterrasen @helloprinceling @peachyyymeg (let me know if you want to be tagged in future parts!)

TOG x ACOTAR Crossover - Hogwarts au

House Key

Last Part Next Part coming Tuesday August 8

“Just look at him,” Aelin sneered, stabbing her grape with a fork. Juice went flying in all directions, but the witch didn’t even notice. Her gaze remained on the Gryffindor table and the white-haired boy sitting there laughing. “Plotting his prank. Making us wait like the mastermind he is.”

Rhysand didn’t even bother following her gaze. She talked about Rowan Whitethorn enough that he knew who she was talking about already. “I’m pretty sure he’s just eating lunch,” he said.

Aelin turned from her fierce stare to scowl at him. “That’s what he wants us to think. He’s just waiting for us to let our guard down,” she retorted, popping a grape into her mouth and chewing it angrily. It had been months since their last prank on Whitethorn - a jinx on his broom that made him hover just above the Whomping Willow for half an hour while the fourth years watched. Aelin waited restlessly for the retaliation she knew would be coming.

Rhysand, however, figured that perhaps the wizard was over the prank war. After all, now that the boy had been spending so much time in Mistress Maeve’s classroom, he could very well have more pressing matters.

“Leave the poor bloke to his food,” Azriel was the one who spoke this time. Aelin whipped her head around to stare at him. “You shouldn’t be wasting your time with him.” The girl sputtered, and Rhys raised an eyebrow at his friend.

Manon ceased her eating to comment, “Az is right. The way I hear it, you should be paying more attention to the Havilliard boy.”

Aelin crinkled her nose as all four of them turned to the Ravenclaw table, where Dorian Havilliard daintily munched on his sandwich. Rhys snorted at the way he used a knife and fork. “Not my type,” Aelin decreed. She shared a look with Rhysand that he could only describe as annoyance.

Manon scoffed. “Well he seems to think you're his. Besides, you’re eleven and you’ve never had a boyfriend, how do you know what your ‘type’ is?”

Aelin crossed her arms with a pout, both Rhys and Azriel laughing a bit at the action. “Eleven and three quarters,” the witch corrected, “and Dorian can try all he wants but I’ve sworn to myself that I am not dating anyone until at least third year. First and second year relationships are stupid anyway.”

Rhys’ eyes flicked to the Gryffindor table once, just glimpsing the back of a golden-brown head before looking back at his friends. “Yeah, that’s very smart of you, Aelin. Best not to get involved too young.” He nudged Azriel beside him. “Isn’t that right Az?”

The wizard didn’t even bother to avert his gaze from the Ravenclaw table as he replied absently, “Yeah, totally.” Rhysand rolled his eyes. It’s like Azriel didn’t even try to hide his feelings for Mor, Rhys’ cousin.

Turning back to the females, Rhys continues, “Besides, I don’t like Dorian.” Manon raised an eyebrow in question. Rhysand shrugged. “His father works with mine at the Ministry. Like, they work together.” He shared a meaningful look with Aelin. He’d confided in her a few weeks ago of his father’s shifty dealings that he’s been privy to. Although his father doesn’t directly discriminate against muggles and muggle-borns, many of his colleagues do. Including Mr Havilliard.

Aelin reached across the table and set her hand on top of his. “We can’t judge people by who their father is, now can we?” She soothed. Rhys grumbled a few times before nodding.

Suddenly, the second year witch who Rhys had been introduced to as Kaltain leaned over to talk to them. The girl had an uncanny talent for overhearing conversations concerning the Havilliard boy, Rhys had noticed. “So, you aren’t in the market for dating anyone right now?” Kaltain asked nonchalantly.

Aelin raised an eyebrow, “Are you offering?”

The witch scoffed. “Of course not. You know Helion though? Second year, Ravenclaw?”

“Vaguely,” Aelin replied. Rhysand looked over to the Ravenclaw table, easily spotting the wizard who had his nose buried in a book. He had seen Helion go through an entire ancient tome in less than two hours, and still have enough time to charm every person he passed. Rhys had to give the guy credit; he knew how to flirt.

Kaltain leaned in close as she spoke the next words, as if they were this deep, dark secret. “Rumor is that him and Dorian have a bet going to see who can get you on a date first.”

Manon burst out laughing, drawing many eyes as she exclaimed, “Seriously? A date - with Aelin?” The witch paused as another bout of laughter overtook her.

Rhysand felt it was his duty as a best friend to stand up for the girl. “Shut up Manon, you’re just jealous because they didn’t place a bet on you.”

Manon feigned wiping her eyes as she recovered from her fit. “I’m just saying, she’s not exactly a prize.” Abruptly, Aelin stood, gathering the attention of the tables around them. She did not have to act as she wiped her own eyes of the tears threatening to fall. Manon’s expression immediately dropped. “Oh, Aelin. I didn’t mean -” But the witch was already running off.

Rhys and Azriel exchanged a quick glance before both standing and sprinting after her. “I hope you’re happy,” Az shot towards the white-haired witch. Rhys noticed that the whole room was watching them as they skidded out into the hall. He was surprised to see that his cousin and Lysandra had followed them. He knew that Aelin had gotten closer to them over the past couple months, but he was proud to hold the position of her best friend. Rhysand couldn’t help but feel protective of her and their friendship. He didn’t want Mor jeopardizing that.

However, when it was clear that Aelin had run to the bathroom, Rhys was incredibly glad that the girls had tagged along. “Before we go in, we need the story,” Mor stopped them outside the entrance to the girl’s lavatory. Rhysand quickly filled them in on what had happened at the table, Lysandra damned the stupid bet before her and Mor entered.

Azriel and Rhys waited outside the bathroom for a couple minutes, and then Az spoke up. “I noticed that the kitchen is serving chocolate cake for dessert tonight...” He commented.

Rhysand already understood, grabbing his friend’s arm and racing downstairs.

...

Aelin’s eyes were blurry as she stumbled into the lavatory. Thus, she wasn’t sure if she was seeing clearly when she noticed the floating gray mass above one of the sinks. The witch quickly wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robe, sniffling, and the blob turned toward her.

It ended up being two ghosts, one with thin braids clinking softly with gold and kind eyes, the other with silver hair and an incredibly beautiful face. One, Aelin recognized as Nehemia, the Ghost of Ravenclaw. The other disappeared through the wall before she could figure out who they were.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Aelin apologized through a cracking voice. She hated crying. It always made her throat sore and her eyes sting. She knew she had made a scene back in the Great Hall, but at the moment, she really didn’t care. Aelin just wanted to be alone. It seemed, however, that Nehemia would not allow that.

“Why are you crying?” The ghost asked, halting Aelin in her steps as she once again broke down.

Her legs wobbled a bit so she crouched, turning away from Nehemia as she attempted to regain her composure. Stupid Manon Blackbeak. Stupid Dorian. Stupid bet. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

The ghost scoffed, floating closer to Aelin. “You most certainly are not. What is wrong, girl?”

Just then, the door slammed open. Aelin looked up to see Mor and Lysandra come bursting through. They spotted Aelin on the floor and rushed to her, only giving Nehemia a sparing glance. “They’re idiots, honey,” Lysandra soothed.

“Rhysand will beat them up for you if you want,” Mor suggested as she rubbed Aelin’s back comfortingly.

Nehemia sported a perplexed expression. “Who are we beating up?” she asked, seeming on board with it but just wanting to know all the facts. Aelin couldn’t help the small chuckle at the ghost’s tone.

“Dorian and Helion,” Lysandra explained.

“Ah, the bet.” Nehemia nodded along. “I told them it was an idiotic idea. Told them about how they would hurt you and now look what they’ve done.” She placed a vacant, cool hand on Aelin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I should have worked harder to talk them out of it.”

The cold tiles under her knees were beginning to become uncomfortable. Her tears started to dry out and Aelin dragged her hand under her nose as she stood. “It’s not your fault. Boys are idiots.” The three other females nodded in agreement. “I just need to tell them that neither of them are going to win the bet. And inform them that they should never do something like this again.”

“Or,” Nehemia interjected, “You could make them regret ever messing with you in the first place.” The three eleven year olds looked up at the ghost, a question in their eyes. “You could lead them on, make them work for a goal they will never achieve. You might as well benefit from having two boys desperately trying to win your favor.”

Aelin played with a lock of her hair thoughtfully. Lysandra and Mor met her gaze, both of the girls smiling encouragingly. “Why not?” She finally agreed. “Whitethorn is boring me anyways, best to move on to a new bloke - or two.”

Nehemia smiled widely, retreating from them and glancing towards the door. “Good, good. You seem to have a couple boys waiting in the hallway for you.” The three of them looked towards the door. “Meet me in Ravenclaw Tower to form a plan when you’re ready.” The fleeting voice of the ghost struck Aelin’s ears and when she looked back, the female was gone.

“I hate when she does that,” Mor muttered. “Are you okay?” She asked, grasping Aelin’s hand in her own and meeting her eyes. Lysandra grabbed a towel that Aelin could wipe her eyes with.

The witch nodded solemnly. “I’ll be fine, I was overreacting to Manon.”

“Don’t let her get under your skin,” Lysandra reminded, gesturing towards the door. Aelin glanced back once at where Nehemia and the other ghost had disappeared, shaking off the feeling of someone watching her.

Rhys and Azriel abruptly stood up from their position against the wall. The latter held a plate of chocolate cake in his hands, which Aelin immediately zeroed in on. She noticed the look Mor and Rhys shared, to which Mor nodded once resolutely, and Rhysand seemed to relax. “You guys are the best,” she said around a mouthful of deliciousness.

Azriel shrugged, a small blush on his face as he tucked his hands into his pockets. Rhys, however, took the compliment. He slung his arm around Aelin’s shoulders comfortingly. “We know,” he said with a smug smile.

Just then, students began to flood the hallways, signaling the end of lunch. Aelin quickly hid her chocolate cake from view, scarfing it down like her life depended on it. Mor and Lysandra waved goodbye after informing Aelin that they would come get her for the meeting with Nehemia. She thanked them for being there for her and then they were off to their next class.

Azriel nudged her shoulder to see Aedion and Feyre sprinting towards them. Done with her cake, Aelin used her wand to send it back down to the kitchens and then turned to accept her cousin’s hug.

“Are you alright Aelin?” Aedion asked worriedly, examining her up and down for any injuries.

She placed her hand on Aedion’s shoulder, looking him in the eye so that he would believe her. “I’m fine. I got a little overemotional about some stuff said at lunch, but my friends helped me.”

For the first time, Aedion looked to Azriel and Rhys, nodding to them in thanks. Aelin rolled her eyes and turned to Feyre, who was waiting patiently for her turn to talk.

“You missed the chocolate snaps that appeared after lunch.” Feyre opened her hand to display about a dozen treats resting in her palm. “I thought they might work to cheer you up.”

Aelin couldn’t help but laugh. Perhaps she had been a bit too vocal about her love for chocolate. “I’m that transparent, aren’t I?” Feyre’s perplexed expression made Aelin wave her hand, collecting the candies and popping them into her mouth without thinking. She was about to thank Feyre for thinking of her but when she opened her mouth, instead of words, flames came out.

They did not burn her, but they sure did startle. Quickly, Aelin shut her lips just as riotous laughter came from around the corner. Rowan Whitethorn sauntered over to them, slipping an arm around Feyre’s shoulders who was covering her mouth trying to hide her smile.

Aelin opened her mouth again to ask what was happening and once more, a burst of fire flickered from her tongue. Rhys, Azriel, and Aedion finally noticed what was happening, beginning to quickly try and figure out how to stop it. She stared at the silver-haired wizard in front of her, daggers gleaming in her eyes.

Her guard had been down. He’d taken his chance. And he’d used chocolate to do it.

“You have a real problem there, Aelin,” he chuckled. Rowan tossed a chocolate snap into the air and caught it again. The males around her turned now to stare at him. “Calm down, bat boys and wolfie, she’s fine. It’s a concoction of my own making,” his eyes met hers, “so that her words reflect the fire in her heart. It will wear off in a couple hours.”

“This is a stupid prank, Whitethorn, and you know it,” Rhys growled. Azriel had to grab his arm to keep him from punching the wizard. Aedion didn’t look like he would be apposed to a new bruise of Rowan’s face either.

Rowan cocked an eyebrow. “Was it? Feyre didn’t seem to think so.” Rhys’ gaze shifted to the witch whose responding smirk made his fierce expression waver. Aelin didn’t dare try to talk, but everyone could see the fire that blazed in her eyes - rhetorical flames this time, but burning none the less.

The hallway had emptied considerably, as students rushed to class, and so the sound of a cane against stone drew all of their attention as the Suriel came entered the area. Rowan suddenly paled and Aelin couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of him getting reprimanded by the terrifying divination teacher.

“Whitethorn!” The Suriel snapped, even though it was still at the other end of the hallway. It seemed to already know what had happened. “Apologize to your...” It seemed to think for a moment. “To your Fireheart.”

Rowan was taken aback, his arm slipping from Feyre’s shoulders. “I-I’m sorry, Aelin.” He said, slightly shaking with fear. None of the other students were much better, all scared of the teacher that continued to hobble closer.

“Good, now get to class!” It barked. Rowan didn’t need to be told twice, quickly grabbing Feyre’s wrist and dragging her with him. “Aelin, let’s get you to Alis,” The Suriel’s tone considerably softened as she spoke to the witch. “The rest of you may also leave for your studies.”

Aelin shared a terrified look with Rhysand, silently begging him not to leave her with the creature, even if it was taking to the nurse. He just slightly shook his head in response. “Let’s go, little girl.” The Suriel commanded, and Aelin had no choice but to follow.

...

That night, Rowan walked into Maeve’s office just a half hour before curfew. She looked up from her desk after a few minutes of him waiting by the door. “Did you give her the chocolates?” Was the first thing she said. Rowan nodded, knowing by now that it was not wise to speak unless it was absolutely necessary. Maeve nodded in approval. “Good. Then you have completed my first task.”

Rowan beamed. If feeding some fiery candies to an annoying girl was the only thing he had to do to win Maeve’s favor, he would gladly do it. Even if it meant that scary teachers like the Suriel would then corner him and demand that he be nice to said girl in the future. The divination teacher seemed to think that Rowan must like the girl, or have some claim on her, the way it kept calling Aelin ‘his Fireheart’. The wizard slightly shivered, remembering the way the Suriel had put it’s bony hand on his shoulder and stared at him with those milky white orbs.

He watched silently as Maeve leaned back in her chair, assessing him. “Are you prepared for my next task?” Rowan nodded again. “Make Aelin hate you.”

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