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Chapter Text

Chapter 1

“Confringo!”

The last of the poachers hit the floor in a heap of dust and burning cloak. Clouds of smoke still hung in the air and were illuminated by the warm evening sun, which danced through the obscure branches of the large trees of the Forbidden Forest.

Silence filled the campsite, and only one wizard was still standing. No auror or professor, but a student.

Heavy breathing and a shaking hand holding onto a dark brown wand for dear life belonged to Edwin Woodruff. After his first year at Hogwarts, starting as a fifth year, he got names like ‘The Hero of Hogwarts’ or ‘Guardian of the Wizarding World’. One year since he found out he could wield ancient magic and embarked on his peculiar journey to contain its powers to ensure peace for wizard and goblin kind alike.

His head sunk as his gaze wandered over the battlefield he left behind only moments ago. Other students were preparing for the next term, which was only a few days away, but here he was. He could be in The Three Broomsticks enjoying a butterbeer and a nice talk with Sirona, preparing for his upcoming lessons in the quaint library of Hogwarts, or flying on his battered broom in the evening light. His broom was nearly as broken as he was himself after a summer of battling goblins, poachers and dark wizards, who still have not given up their cause.

A still shaking hand reached up to his abdomen and flinched back at the sudden pain that flared up his entire right side. A bloody nose and sprained ankle completed the picture of yet another adventure.

Time to go back to Hogwarts.

With the sun already vanished behind the green hills of the valley, it was safe to go back and retreat into his quarters for the summer unnoticed. The Room of Requirements wasn’t just the home to his magical beasts these days.

All the other students set off to visit their parents or relatives during the lesson free time, and those who didn’t have either accompanied close friends. He somehow managed to trick several people at once to stay and finish what he started last September. He told most people that he would spend the time with friends in London. Most of them believed him with no questions, and those who didn’t quite believe him decided not to push him to tell more private details about his life before Hogwarts.

The only person who was a real problem to deceive was Professor Fig. His mentor knew him best out of all of them. After their encounter with Ranrok they grew even closer. So close in fact that he offered him to stay with him during the free time. The moment, Edwin lied to him and told him he would stay with Ominis and Sebastian felt like another trial. The task couldn’t be more challenging: Deceive the one person you trust completely to protect him from the dangers left to be dealt with.

He is supposed to meet Professor Fig tomorrow. He managed to reschedule the meeting to have one last evening for the last poacher camps nearby. His mentor was quite pleased for him, when he received an owl that he would go to The Three Broomsticks with a few friends to start off the new term. Except those ‘friends’ were unethical nitwits and The Three Broomsticks was the Forbidden Forest.

He nearly lost Professor Fig underneath Hogwarts to the disaster Ranrok unleashed upon him… he couldn’t risk it again. The Professor told him to put more trust in people, but one more exception wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?
Well, except him. Of course, he could have used an extra wand against the countless foes he faced, but he could manage without endangering friends.

And so he is flying on his broom, only half conscious, as he makes his way towards the illuminated windows of the ancient castle in the foggy distance.

He lands in front of the clock tower and stumbles off his broom in a less elegant fashion than usual. The familiar creaking of the massive door was the only indication for him that his feet must be moving. The world is so far away, but his body knows the way back to his secret quarter. Too often has he limped up the stairs to the astronomy tower. If only he had one more Wiggenweld Potion somewhere in his pockets.

“Edwin! You are already back?”

He winced when he heard the familiar voice behind him. Suddenly he froze on the spot as if he was hit by Glacius. Fast steps were coming his way.

A warm chuckle was heard, followed by the amused voice of his mentor. “ Perhaps one butterbeer too many, judging by your unsteady walk, my young friend.”

He slowly turns around,“Something like that, yes.”

The soft grin on the professor's face vanished as he took in the state of his student. He quickly covered the distance between them and steadied his protégé with a firm grip on both shoulders.

“By Merlin's beard! What happened to you?” concerned eyes looked him up and down and registered the countless cuts and bruises.

“ You should see the other guy, Professor.”, a pained chuckle escaped Edwin, followed by a wince.

“This is no time for patter. Do you think we can make it to my office?”

Edwin stared for a moment before squinting at his mentor, “I don’t know. Where are we?”
He wasn’t sure if his missing glasses were the only reason why everything seemed to be a bit fuzzy at the moment.

The frown on Professor Fig's face deepened, “How many fingers?”, he asked the young Ravenclaw, holding up two.

“Four?”

“Are you asking me?”, his mentor asked while sighing.

Edwin gently, even though slightly uncoordinated, took the hands of his mentor off his shoulders and took a few steps backward, stumbling over his ankle.

“How about this: I just go back to my dorm, get a good night's sleep and I will come to your office first thing in the morning…”

His mentor noticed that he was slowly moving towards the floo flame in the corner and quickly moved forward to grab his left arm, “Oh no. You won’t.”

Only seconds later, both of them stood in front of the magical theory classroom. Edwin immediately fell over and let out a pained cry.

The professor kneeled down to him, “Do you really believe I would leave you to your own devices in this state?”
He helped his protégé back on his feet and supported most of his weight while climbing up the few stairs to his office, gently closing the door behind them.

It wasn’t the first time the young Ravenclaw showed up on his doorstep looking a bit worse for wear. After the first two uncomfortable nights spent sleeping in an armchair, he placed a small settee in the far corner of his office hidden behind a partition wall.

Professor Fig gently placed the young wizard on the settee and made him lay down.

“Now, drink this for a start.”, he said while handing him a Wiggenweld Potion.

Edwin glances at the familiar green liquid and breathes a sigh of relief as he gulps it down in one go. Immediately, he can feel small cuts closing and the pulsating pain coming from his ankle disappearing. He closes his eyes and relaxes for the first time this summer, it seems.

His mentor walks up to him and hands him a wet towel to clean off most of the mud and blood covering his face, and places a steaming cup of tea next to him on the small cabinet next to him.

With a flick of his wand the cosy armchair, which usually had its place in front of the fireplace between unsteady stacks of books, appeared next to the settee and Professor Fig sat down right at the edge to cast an analysing look over him.

“What do we have here, then? Any injury that can’t be fixed by Wiggenweld I should know about?”

Edwin was looking out of the window into utter darkness to avoid his mentor's stern expression.

“No, sir. I already feel better. Thank you.”

Eleazar Fig relaxed slightly, but still sported an expression quite foreign on his features. 

“Professor, I am sorry -”

Eleazar shook his head, “Don’t be sorry, be honest with me.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Edwin exhaled loudly and finally met the eyes of his trusted mentor.

“The truth?”, Edwin asked with a shaky voice.

The eyes of Professor Fig softened immediately, and he leaned slightly forward.

“Please…”

Edwin nods slowly and looks into the older man's eyes.

“ I didn’t spend the summer with Sebastian and Ominis. I haven’t left Hogwarts either -”, he gulped down the forming knot in his throat. It was kind of relieving to finally share the truth, but at the same time it couldn’t be harder to disappoint a person he looked up to.

Fig noticed the hesitation. After the last months, he got to know the expressions of his young friend. He couldn’t always read him as well as now, but it gets easier.

“I figured as much. We will have to work on your disillusionment charm. “, he added with a grin.

“ Sir? ”, his grin transformed into a chuckle as he took in the confused and angsty glare of Edwin.

“ Professor Weasley has glasses and could still spot your blurry form down the hall. Of course, we didn’t know which student chose to stay, but I had my suspicions.”

The mouth of his protégé opened and closed repeatedly, mimicking a goldfish.

“ I don’t know what you -”, he was stopped by the held up hands of Professor Fig.

“ Edwin, please. No more lies. You are not in any trouble, I just -”, a deep sigh paused his plea. “ I just want an honest summary of what you did this summer, because you were definitely not in The Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer. “

Edwin raised his eyebrows and began his long overdue confession.

“ I was in Hogwarts the whole summer. Well, I sleep here, but I spend my days and probably most nights in the Highlands. I couldn’t stop after the last repository, Sir. With Ranrok’s loyalists still out there and poachers looming in the Forbidden Forest, imprisoning magic beasts - well, not any more. My point is, I couldn’t stop, when the Highlands were still in danger. I have this feeling of responsibility.”, his gaze shifts to his hands, “With abilities like mine… I can’t just sit by and watch.”

Professor Fig gently shakes his head.

“ But you should not have to do this on your own. I thought we agreed that we should put more trust in people. I won't deny that you have outstanding magical abilities, but you also should have the life of a young student at Hogwarts. You should spend too much money at Zonko’s or set fire to the ghastly curtains in the dormitories -”

“Are you speaking from experience, professor?”, Edwin asked with a smile.

His mentor returned the friendly expression only briefly before concern took over his features.

“ I had my share of trouble back then, believe it or not. And I hope you can have the good kind of trouble too, but in these walls and not in the Forbidden Forest. I understand that you have a responsibility now, but never be afraid to ask for help. There are people who have made it their profession to handle these things. The Ministry -”

“ - has done nothing of use so far. Did Spavin take the goblin rebellion seriously? No. Did Officer Singer support Natty and me in tracking down Harlow? No…”, anger flared up in his blue eyes as Edwin stood up and Professor Fig could have sworn that a spark of ancient magic made them glow, even if it were only for a second.

The older wizard wanted to defend his argument, but closed his mouth abruptly. How many letters has he written to the Ministry filled with his concerns for the safety of the wizarding world, and how often was he brushed off. As if an emerging goblin rebellion could be stopped by offering him Quidditch tickets.

“ Considering the recent inefficiency, I can not argue with you there. Nevertheless, you will always receive help in Hogwarts. Your professors will stand by your side regardless of what it is to come. You can also come to me, and I am sorry if you thought you could not.”

Edwin turned around to his mentor, his professor, who turned out to be his confidant, his partner in crime. After they faced certain death together, they met up nearly every day until the summer break. Sometimes they would discuss ancient magic, and sometimes they would simply talk about new things Edwin discovered in the wizarding world.

Of course, he trusted the man with his life, but he didn’t trust himself with the lives of his friends.

“ Sir, I do trust you with my life…”

Professor Fig stands up and faces the young wizard, “ Then explain to me why you risked your life and lied to me. “

“ I can’t lose you!”, he was shocked by the force with which these words broke through his facade and reverberated throughout the familiar air of the room. His eyes focus on his mentor.

Professor Fig looks at his protégé and his eyes widen as he understands what Edwin just said to him. Those words rang through his head ever since he first met the somehow shy teenager in London all those months ago. After Miriam he needed a purpose and Professor Weasley knew exactly what she was doing when she put him forward for the task. She didn’t just save Edwin when she fought the headmaster to take on a fifth year.

“ Edwin, you won't lose me. Ranrok is gone, and the repository is safe too. “, he said as he grabbed Edwin by his shoulders in an attempt to calm him down.

“ You can not live in constant fear of losing people. I did that for some time and realized that it would protect no one. I know you had to stand alone in your trials, but remember that we are stronger together. “

Edwin slowly nodded.

“ I know that, professor. Thank you.”

His mentor only huffs and doesn’t take his eyes off him.

“ From what you told me, I assume you took down all the camps already, alone.”, he sighed.

“ Yes, sir.”

"Well, we can not change the past. But you can promise me to seek help in the future, when you feel like duelling your way through the Forbidden Forest or ancient ruins.", he added with raised eyebrows.

A genuine smile broke over Edwin’s face, " I promise."

Professor Fig padded his shoulders one last time before letting go of him.

" I do hope you mean it. Because your sixth year might not be interrupted by trials and occasional deathly visits to abandoned mines, but from what I have heard so far some things are coming our way.", the older wizard said with a mysterious undertone.

" Sir? ", Edwin questioned, slightly alarmed by the implications.

His mentor only shook his head and waved off his concerns," Nothing to worry about at this ungodly hour. You should go to bed and have a good night's rest. We can start to prepare you for your next term tomorrow. Goodnight."

Edwin wouldn't put it past the older man, that his words could have magical abilities themselves. He suddenly felt the exhausting day catching up with him and all the missing energy, which was transferred to the healing of his unlucky injuries. He suppresses a yawn and heads for the door.

"Goodnight, professor. And once again, thank you.", he said before walking into a stack of books. The sudden rumbling of falling paper and leather drowned out his mumbled curse, fortunately.

Eleazar Fig watched his pupil with worried eyes, " Are you sure you are alright? "

He winced,"Yes, sir. It's my glasses. I lost them today and I don't have spare ones."

His mentor chuckled, "Godric's heart, you really couldn't see my fingers, could you? Well, we can not have you wandering around like that."

With a flick of his wand, the silver wooden spectacles he was used to seeing on the nose of Edwin appeared.

Behind the conjured glasses, the blue eyes widened and a silent 'oh' formed on his lips.

" These are even better than my last ones. I can only repeat myself, but thank you, sir."

Professor Fig smiled, clearly pleased with the accuracy of his spell, " Perhaps you should conjure a few spare ones during your upcoming lessons with Professor Weasley. Off to bed now. "

They shared one last smile before parting for the night.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Edwin is packing away the books and ingredients he gathered with Professor Fig a few days ago. He rarely slept in his dorm last year, but he promised himself and Professor Fig to participate a bit more. So he stored his books and potion equipment underneath the bunk bed.

When they both stood in front of J. Pippin’s Potions and the older wizard started to list all the required items for his upcoming potion lessons, he realised that his mentor probably underestimated his adventures.

He told Fig that he didn’t need Stench of the Dead due to the fact that he has at least two shelves full of it in the Room of Requirements. Edwin didn’t mention the place where he stocked it, because admitting to his mentor that he lit up hundreds of Inferi on his travels through the Highlands was enough to receive a lecture filled with consternation about his own carelessness regarding his survival.

The confession involving the secret space where he cared for dangerous beasts, brewed all kinds of potions, and cultivated potentially murderous plants would have to wait, as he feared for Fig’s blood pressure already. But some day, he would show his trusted friend around the rooms that became a second home to him. How he wished to see the sparkling sensation of wonder and childlike rapture in his mentor’s eyes again, like all those days ago, when he first set foot into the map chamber.

His thoughts were interrupted by the creaking sound of the opening door. Amit entered with a weathered brown suitcase and a cylindrical bag. Edwin assumed that the peculiar-looking vessel was especially for his new telescope, which was worth more than most of his possessions combined.

"Ah, Edwin! What a delight that I'm not the first to arrive."

Edwin smiled fondly as Amit began to organise his belongings.

"Amit, good to see you! How have you been during the summer? Some clear nights to use this beauty?", he said, gesturing to the telescope, which Amit pulled out first with a proud grin.

"Indeed, indeed. My father and I went to France last July, and we were only a few days late for the discovery of a new asteroid. I got to read a few of the first papers! Can you believe it?", Amit had the widest grin and his enthusiasm was simply contagious.

Edwin smiled and closed his wooden chest to shove it back under the bed. He stood up and went over to lean on Amit's bed frame.

"That sounds like a wonderful summer you got there. So when can we reckon with a groundbreaking astronomical discovery by you? We could certainly use the house points, if we want to defend the title.", Edwin said, while helping with a few heavy books he definitely hasn't got for himself. He was a bit anxious while heaving the massive literature onto the next shelf, but this was probably far beyond the curriculum anyway.

Amit only chuckled, while rummaging around his suitcase.
"Any day now. According to some Muggle reports, we will get excellent weather conditions for the rest of the year. I will probably come back late most nights. I'm sorry if I will disturb your sleep."

Edwin only waved his concerns off.
"Don't be. Perhaps I'll join you sometime.", he pointed over his shoulder to Amit's old telescope, which stood next to his owl.

"I can't thank you enough, Amit. Your telescope served me well this summer. I found all the remaining astronomy tables."

Amit's eyes widened and he stopped mid-motion.

"You… you found them all? Did you spend the whole summer in Hogwarts?", he googled him with anticipation.

"What? No…", Edwin laughed nervously and chose to avoid the last question by swiftly pulling out a wrinkled piece of paper out of one of his books.

" I marked them on a map in case you want to use them. The map is a bit worn out, but I hope it's still discernible."

Amit grabbed the paper, dumbfounded.

“ Thank you, but how did you manage to find all of them? It must have taken days, weeks even.”

Edwin only shrugged as he sat down on his bed with quite the momentum, so he could bounce up and down a little with the cheekiest grin planted on his face.

“ Amit, haven't you figured it out yet? I’m quite fast on the broom”

___________________________________________________________

The sun was already setting when The Hogwarts Express arrived, and the halls were filled with excited chatter and students. Everyone was used to changing into formal school robes and gathering in The Great Hall as quickly as possible. For Edwin, it was another first time experience in Hogwarts. If it weren’t for that blasted dragon and treacherous goblin uprising, he might have had the whole Sorting Ceremony experience.

But what is the point in dwelling in the past or what-if scenarios. He is sitting right next to his schoolmates, his friends and has frequent eye contact with Sebastian to taunt him, when another student gets sent to Ravenclaw and vice versa. After the last first year was sorted and the applause of the Gryffindor table became silent, the tables filled with all kinds of playful delicacies. Everyone marvelled at the unique ideas. Small carrots flew around their heads and exploded like fireworks into slices, which fell into bowls filled with sauce. Shimmering carafes filled with colourful juice were protected by lids formed like Diricawls, which disappeared when one tried to tilt the carafe to ingrain some of its content, and swiftly reappeared as it was put down again.

He would have to visit the kitchens soon and praise the house elves for their affords. After sneaking in to get food on a daily basis, he became acquainted with most of them and could even call some of them his friends.

He breathed in deeply and looked around. Such a peaceful and carefree moment was something he treasured, after the antics of last year.

Hogwarts still stood, his friends were still alive, the repository was safe, and a blueberry biscuit just landed on his plate with the help of tiny wings out of icing. Yes, life was good.

He noticed Professor Fig and Professor Weasley watching him. He simply raised his cup and nodded in their direction with a warm smile, which was gladly returned by both of them. It was only then, that he noticed the unfamiliar man next to them. Was a new professor at Hogwarts, was he a guest?

But before Edwin could analyse the situation further, his attention was caught by Professor Black. The headmaster proudly strut to the owl lectern and clears his throat.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

The Grand Hall fell silent as the headmaster approached the lectern.

“Ah, here we go then. Three Galleons that Professor Weasley has to step in again.”, whispered Everett next to him.

Duncan turned his head towards Everett and leaned slightly over the table, “ I bet you five that it will be less than two minutes.”

Everett straightened his glasses and put on his mischievous grin as he extended his hand to Duncan.

“We’re in business, Hobhouse.”, whispered Everett as Duncan grabbed his hand.

A small smile appeared on Edwin’s lips. He could remember how Duncan feared to interact with his classmates out of fear of being called ‘Puffskein Dunkein’, especially from Everett. If he hadn’t visited the Hidden Herbology Corridor, perhaps -

“Dear students, welcome to another year at Hogwarts.”, His thoughts were interrupted by Professor Black who looked like he would rather be in front of a Norwegian Ridgeback than children.

“There will be a few changes in this year's procedure, but more on that in a moment. First of all, I hereby forbid any activities in the Clocktower.”

Several faces, which Edwin knew from the Crossed Wands, turned towards Lucan Brattleby. The young Gryffindor froze and nervously glanced towards Professor Hecat, who tried to burn holes into Professor Black’s head, judging by her intense stare.

He saw Professor Fig looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He avoided his mentor's gaze by filling up his cup with the juice out of the Diricawl carafe in front of him.

“Someone froze the pendulum multiple times and thereby shifted the accuracy of this precise machinery. If you have any indications on the identity of the students responsible, please contact one of the staff, and you will be rewarded.”

Edwin nearly choked on his juice and started to cough. The whole hall was filled with chatter. He could hear a few laughs but also the disgruntled remarks of duellists.

Everett zestfully hit Edwin on the back. “ Are you alright there, Woodruff? Or are you choking on your guilt?”, he said playfully.

Edwin recovered enough to smile and respond, “ No, I’m just disappointed that I can’t defeat you again this year. “
“ In your dreams, Woodruff.”

Once again, Edwin’s look wandered to his mentor, who had a wide smile on his wrinkled features and lifted his cup this time and gave him a small nod.

The Ravenclaw’s cheeks flushed and became nearly as red as the Gryffindor robes at the table next to them. He looked at his cup and avoided eye contact from any direction. He would have to seek out a more powerful version of Reparo in the library.

Professor Black noticed the rising volume and held up both hands.

“ Silence! There will be other matters to focus your minds on this year than certain extracurricular activities. Our school will be honoured to host guests from the two largest wizarding schools of Europe, besides Hogwarts of course. Please welcome, coming to us from the far north, the students of Durmstrang and their headmaster, …um...”, Professor Black nervously searched through his papers on the lectern for several moments before Professor Weasley loudly pronounced, “ Oskar Sturm.”

Professor Black returned to his usual irritated glare and held his nose high to manifest his arrogance in an expression as well.

“ Ah, yes. And their headmaster, Oskar Sturm, of course.”

The massive doors flew open like they wouldn’t weigh more than a Fwooper’s feather. The annoyed faces which listened to Black only seconds ago turned towards the sudden spectacle, and some students even stood up to see the incoming force.

Loud marching filled The Great Hall and 14 of Durmstrang’s finest entered. Their fur cloaks and crimson uniforms stood out like a drop of blood on a piece of parchment between the black robes of Hogwarts.

They continued their way down the aisle while each of them blew against their wand to send flames flying through the room. Several Hufflepuff students reflexively shrieked as one of the flames missed their heads by a hair's breadth. Professor Garlick looked as anxious and shocked as most of her pupils felt.

The flames connected at last over Professor Black, who backed away a few steps. A huge creature out of fire and smoke formed in mid-air. To Edwin, it looked like an eagle with two heads spreading its wings, but he has never seen a magical creature like it.

“How do they tell each other apart? Do they just copy first year’s up there?”, asked Everett, his fellow Ravenclaws.

At first, Edwin wanted to tell him to be a bit more respectful, but he couldn’t argue with him. All of them wore the exact same outfit, had the same short haircut, and they all hadn’t shown a single human expression so far. In one swift motion, they came to a halt in front of the Slytherin table.

The flaming bird began to clap his wings as a tall man entered the hall. He wore the same crimson robes, but had more fur and golden chains hanging from his broad shoulders. He had a stern expression as well as blond hair and the bluest eyes Edwin had ever seen, were fixed on the Durmstrang emblem glowing before them.

Professor Black put out his hand, but Sturm ignored him and joined his students.

“Sturm seems to be quite the connoisseur of human nature. Good for him. “, Everett remarked.

Most of the Hogwarts students had a small grin on their faces while Black went back to the lectern, with reddened cheeks. One could almost see the smoke coming out of his head as he was fuming mad, unaware of his snickering colleagues behind him.

“Welcome to Hogwarts.”, he said, as listless as one can possibly be.

“And now, the graceful students of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and their headmistress, Héloise Courtois!”, Black announced with an exaggerated French accent.

All heads snapped back to the doors just in time to see innumerable amounts of colourful butterflies flying through the entrance. Silently, shimmering and graceful, just like the group of students emerging from the multicoloured swarm.

Uniforms made of sky blue silk were floating down the aisle like veils of fog on a morning in Spring. Flapping skirts and loose blouses moved along to the girls wearing, who also had matching hats on.

The mouths of several boys hung open, and most girls watched the display in awe.

It was at this moment that Edwin saw her for the first time.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

The Sorting Ceremony was a delight to attend each year. He was a bit disappointed that he missed it last year, thanks to the unfortunate dragon encounter. The festivities were a perfect way to catch up with his colleagues and discuss the upcoming curriculum over a delicious meal. He also learned over the years that this also happens to be the best opportunity to memorise the names of all the new students without asking them directly. And if one slipped their minds, Abraham was always a reliable source.

He would swear that the man has not once forgotten a student's name in all the years he knew him. His best theory is that the Charms Master of Hogwarts writes the new charts for Summoner's Court before the start of the approaching term and already includes the first years in his lists. Merlin, he wouldn’t put it past him that he gets them from the Book of Admittance first hand. Most of the students were probably listed as a Summoner’s Court contestant before they got their official letter.

A small chuckle escaped him as Professor Hecat asked Professor Ronen about a name and received an answer before she could finish describing the shy Hufflepuff. Although, the light-hearted mood didn’t last for long.

Professor Weasley told all of them that this year they would have to manage more students than usual due to a secret matter that Headmaster Black would announce soon. Professor Sharp was the first to suspect that the Ministry was also involved. Apparently a stranger was on the Hogwarts Express and Sharp identified him as one of Spavin’s officials as he sat between them on the teachers table.

Kind eyes glanced around the Great Hall and a profound smile appeared on the man’s face. It was the kind of smile everyone had when they visited Hogwarts again. A smile George would have had too if…if.

The actual Sorting Ceremony went by rather uneventfully until Professor Black stepped to the lectern again.

Traditionally, Black would give a half-hearted speech about another year in which students would act disrespectful and immature to a degree that would cost him a part of his life expectancy. Then he would abruptly cut off and order them to go back to their dormitories and leave the scrumptious meal behind.

Him closing the Clocktower sure came as a surprise. Most of the teaching staff knew about the Crossed Wands, most of them were Crossed Wands champions after all. The fact that Professor Sharp could never beat Professor Hecat back in the day is a recurring jest after all.

He was even more surprised by the student responsible. Of course, the name wasn’t known officially, but he had his suspicions again, and they were verified by the blushed face and sudden choking fit of a certain Ravenclaw.

Hopefully he would remember to ask him all about the incident. But first he led out a wholesome chuckle that didn’t go unnoticed by Professor Weasley.

But what happened next changed the mood completely. Guests were announced, and the massive doors swung open to welcome them in.

The students cheered and took in the new faces with fascination. The Professors on the other hand started to chat, and several knowing looks were exchanged.

While the girls of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic entered the hall, Eleazar leaned forward to face Professor Weasley.

“Matilda, what is going on? The schools haven’t had a coming together like this in ages. In fact, this hasn’t occurred in 100 years… What is Black playing at?”concerned features searched Professor Weasley’s face for answers.

The witch sighed, “ I don’t know, Eleazar. But I share your concerns. I doubt he will hold the secret any longer, as he was nearly bursting this morning. I never saw him this energetic before. Merlin knows what this man has got on his mind.”

Slowly a smile appeared on her kind face and brown eyes lit up behind half-moon glasses.

“ However, I do believe I know what is going on in your protégé’s head right now. “

“ Oh?”, bemused, he followed her glimpse to the Ravenclaw table.

Only moments ago the young Ravenclaw's cheeks were coloured red out of shame, but now they were as red as a Durmstrang uniform. His eyes were fixed on the French guests at the table across. Unfortunately Eleazar couldn’t make out which girl mesmerised his student in particular, and left his mouth slightly agape, but he would sell his first edition of Milford Quisling’s treatise if he didn’t find out soon enough.

“ Ooh. “, he eventually said with the warmest of smiles.

“ If you ask me, there will be heartbreak en masse. I feel sorry for Mirabel already. The girls always come to her.”, Professor Weasley smiled.

Eleazar hummed in agreement, “ The way I see it, they will learn more about life this year then we could ever teach them”

This was the way it all began. All those years ago, he sat at the decorated table in his dishevelled robes and locked eyes with her. He will never forget that first moment they shared. If she could just keep on sitting there. If her hazelnut hair could forever lay curved over her delicate shoulders. If only her smile would forever be directed at him from the moment he opens his eyes in the morning to the latest hour of day. If only she could be here now. What would she think of him?

Professor Black cleared his throat as The Great Hall wouldn’t calm down.

“Silence! Some of you might ask themselves why we welcome guests this year. Allow me to introduce one more guest who might be able to enlighten your exhausted minds.”, he held out his hand to direct the mysterious man to the podium.

A middle-aged man stepped up to the lectern with an old looking brown coat floating behind him as he walked with a spring in his step. The suit in dark blue made him look professional while his overall appearance would have suggested otherwise. His brown hair was a bit out of place and his smile was far too sincere for a member of the Ministry.

“ Good evening. My name is Hubert Osprey, and I’m not a new Professor.”, he gave a warm chuckle, “ I was sent here by the Ministry, by Mr. Spavin personally to be precise. There is a reason why the three largest schools for witchcraft and wizardry gathered at one place. As some of you may know there once was a friendly bond between all of them that led to demanding competition. Friendships were built that stretched over the whole continent and new achievements were made by the sheer motivation of becoming better together. 100 years ago this spectacle was forbidden, due to the dangers it brought. But the Ministry adjusted to the concerns and decided to bring it back to life.”

At this point Mr. Moon pushed in a small tower from the side that was hidden under a dusty curtain.

“ We want to give you opportunities to rise above yourselves. And we are grateful that Hogwarts decided to host the Triwizard Tournament!”, he pointed at the tall contraption and with a flick of his wand the dusty piece of fabric hit the floor.

The students marvelled at the vessel embellished with gold and shimmering gemstones. A few seemed to recognise it from the trophy room that awarded all those that climbed up the enormous staircase.

“Three champions will compete in three unique and challenging tasks. Each round will bring those who dare to try them to the ends of their wit. All those who finish a Tournament task will be rewarded points, which will be summarised at the end of the year. One has to go beyond one's abilities to win the trophy only earned by the best of wizard kind. The Triwizard Cup!”

Mr. Osprey directed his wand in front of the lectern and a small cloud of smoke formed. The whole hall fell silent as tiny blue lightning strikes illuminated the ball of grey. With one last flash thundering through the air a luminescent blue trophy revealed itself behind the swirling mist.

Every student simply watched in awe and whispered words of wonder that cut through the silence.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? Honour and glory await the wizard or witch who will hoist the Triwizard Cup in the end. But you may wonder how the contestants will be chosen.”

Another flick of his wand made the towering vessel melt down like a leaf in The Draught of Living Death.

A blue flame emerged and illuminated the hall.

“The Goblet of Fire will choose the right champions. All you will have to do is write your name on a piece of parchment and throw it into the flame. In exactly 10 days we will gather again and determine the three students, one from each school. But let me tell you this. Don’t make your decision too easily. The success you see for yourself in this very moment is still a fantasy but the dangers you will have to face on your way there are quite real indeed. You will face those challenges alone. So consider wisely. “

Professor Fig furrowed his brows as Professor Sharp whispered to his colleagues.

“ I can’t remember the last time any student considered anything wisely.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

The excitement was almost electric, charging up the air. New students and a tournament that promised glory and honour?! The poor first years will think every year is this sensational.

Only moments after they were dismissed to their dormitories, a handful of students wrote down their names on a piece of parchment and tossed it into the sizzling flame that wrapped the hall in a blue light. The Goblet certainly stole the ambience from the joyful dancing ghosts in the dungeons.

Edwin looked at the students who cheered their peers on, after tossing their names in. He pressed his lips into a thin line and slightly shook his head. Judging by the description of the competition and the expressions of his professors, the tournament was really dangerous. How dangerous exactly remains to be seen. So much for ‘consider wisely’. He promised himself to read about it in the library tomorrow.

But the potentially lethal festivities couldn’t dominate his mind any longer than a few minutes. She clouded his thoughts from the moment she stepped out of this colourful wall of butterflies.

He should probably ask Professor Fig if angels exist in the wizarding world, for he was sure he met one this night.

The young Ravenclaw knew it was rude to stare, but he couldn’t help himself. He was too afraid she would simply vanish while he blinked, because it must be a dream, he was certain.

He heard Sebastian and Ominis approach and talk to Everett and Amit, but he couldn’t listen to them, because all his senses had to focus on her.

A slap on his back interrupted his train of thought.

“What do you think, Edwin?”, Sebastian asked him, while the group made its way out of the Great Hall.

He blinked a few times and looked into the expecting faces of his friends.

“Huh?”

Sebastian chuckled, “What’s wrong with you, mate? I asked if we want to throw our names in, tomorrow after classes?”

“ I… Actually, I wanted to read about this whole thing before entering a competition that clearly sounds risky.”, he frowned.

Before Sebastian could come around with a fitting line, Amit quickly said, “ Me too. I want to know what this is exactly. “

Everett and Sebeastian rolled their eyes.

“You guys should take a risk, you did before, right?. You can’t tell me you haven’t raided a goblin mine, because that kind of rumour is kind of hard to make up, especially concerning Amit”, Everett laughed.

Edwin wanted to start his usual routine of downplaying the gossip, but Amit unfortunately chose this moment to have one of his nervous rants.

“ What is that supposed to mean? You immediately would believe the story if Edwin raided a goblin camp on his own, but with me, it is unlikely? Also, it wasn’t a raid in that sense, it was more of a strategic gathering of information -”

Edwin closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“ I think you can stop now, Amit.”

Everett and Sebastian laughed and shared a quick handshake, while Ominis silently gave Sebastian 2 Galleons.

“ Seriously? You start betting on the rumours now?”, asked Edwin.

“ What? It’s safe money, because they’re usually true. Ominis is the only one backing down, because it sounds ‘too dangerous’ and he hopes it’s not true. “, Sebastian said with little air quotes and the cheekiest of grins.

Ominis only shrugged with his shoulders and started to make his way down the stairs to his common room. The others bid each other good night, and Edwin’s gaze followed Ominis. Something wasn’t right in the way he simply left them behind. Another thing he should investigate in the next few days. The term has just started, and he already had several projects on his list. A good night's rest was certainly in order, and he thoughtfully followed his roommates to Ravenclaw Tower.

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He just wanted to head to his first class when he noticed a familiar owl coming in through the still open window. The great grey owl landed next to his owl in silence and stared at him with a wrinkled letter in its beak. He knows the bird all too well. Grey, white and brown feathers often rustled above his head to wake him up and let a letter fall on his face. Anouk belonged to his mentor and often brought him invitations to see him after classes. The same request was written today in the older man's somehow messy handwriting.

Dear Edwin,

Meet me in my office after your classes today. I have an important matter to discuss with you.

Edwin chuckled. At this point, he doesn’t even sign them any more.

He picked up his small suitcase full of ingredients and headed to his first class of the term, potions.

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While he passed Central Hall, the usual chatter was louder than last year. It was a miracle that the sleeping dragon above the library entrance hasn’t woken up yet. He couldn’t even hear the love sick guitarist play from his portrait over all the noise.

Apparently the boys of Durmstrang were sleeping in Slytherin quarters and the girls of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic were sleeping in Hufflepuff.

Some Slytherins pranked their guests by daring them to cast spells at the windows and watched with amusement as their tentacle possessing friend scared the almost emotionless seeming boys half to death.

The girls of Hufflepuff were already best friends with their French guests, due to the fact that they spend most of the night talking about their schools, gardening and boys? He probably doesn’t need more details on that.

Also, numerous groups mentioned a new Quidditch season, and he could spot a few students in full gear.

The crossed wands are looking for a new arena and according to one Gryffindor leaning on the enchanted fountain, the best place would be a deserted Accio practice room that was discovered last summer. Well, he knew about that and should probably help Lucan find it.

According to a laughing Slytherin, a few first years got lost already and ended up in the Pungent Passage this morning and had to endure it for half an hour due to a locked door. 

It’s astonishing how one minute of strolling through Central Hall in the morning can bring you up to date with the most important tidings.

His classmates already waited in the potions room and most of them were trading ingredients as almost no one got everything in time. He proudly patted his stocked suitcase as Garreth wanted to sell him ‘improved’ Leech Juice.

He went to his usual place and slowed down once he noticed he wasn’t alone at his potion station. Behind the rusty pipes and the swirling smoke coming out of them, he could make out blond hair. A blue uniform and suddenly deep blue pupils with green blots looked at him.

His eyes widened in shock and his light grin disappeared as his mouth formed a thin line. Did he drink an Edurus Potion? He could swear his face turned into stone this instant and would have this aghast look forever.

He turned on one heel and quickly walked up to Sebastian, suitcase grasped closely to his chest.

“ Sebastian, you’ve got to help me!”, he whispered urgently.
The Slytherin was taken aback and turned to the Ravenclaw.

“ What is it? Did one of your Ashwinder Eggs hatch again?”, he asked while leaning on the potion station.

Edwin blinked rapidly, “ What? No! This only happened once, come on.”

He closed the distance between them, and Sebastian's eyes slightly widened by the declining distance between them.

Edwin started whispering again, “ Can we switch places? I - I kind of want to try a new cauldron this year…?”

Sebastian blankly looked at him, “ Have you smelled on Garreth’s sludge, mate? What’s wrong with your old - “

He pushed Edwin to the side and looked at the girl sitting opposite his place, absorbed in a book. A charming smile appeared on his face.

“ I see …”, he slowly said.

Ominis sighed, “ Well, I don't, so what is the problem? “

Sebastian nudged Ominis lightly, “ Remember how the shy new student chose the only empty potion station despite knowing next to nothing, and we said ‘The new one looks like a kicked Mooncalf’ ?”

Edwin furrowed his brow and threw up his hands.

“ Wow, thank you. “, he remarked sarcastically.

“ There’s a new girl at Edwin’s station.”, the smug Slytherin said dryly. Edwin was clearly nervous and moved fidgety. Sebastian could only roll his eyes.

“ For Merlin’s sake, you battled a goblin rebellion, faced more than one dragon, brought down Rookwood and his henchmen, and you survived all of that! Yet, here you are freaking out like a first year in front of a Venomous Tentacula. Pull yourself together, it's only a girl, mate.”

With each word, Edwin nodded a bit more and eventually inhaled deeply, “ You’re right.” And with that he turned and walked to his place and gently put his stuff down.

“ He never had problems talking to a girl.”, Ominis stated. “ Do you think he likes her ?”

“ Oh, most definitely.”, Sebastian mumbled, his eyes fixed on the situation.

“ Do you think he has a chance? “
“ Ominis. He is the bloody Hero of Hogwarts! If he can’t ensnare one of the French girls, then we’re all doomed. What could possibly go wrong ?” By the end of the class, he would eat his words.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

He walked up to his workstation with confidence and placed his case on top. ‘Now or never, Woodruff’.

Edwin's movements were cautious as he walked around the station and halted in front of her with a decent distance between them. He really wanted to speak first, but she was a bit quicker.

“Bonjour, how are you? I’m Élodie.”, she proclaimed with the sweetest voice he had ever heard, wrapped in a French accent.

Those blue eyes could have made the ocean go pale, for they had consumed all its colours; he was sure of it. But at this moment, they washed a grin on his face, which was probably a bit too wide.

“I’m Edwin, nice to meet you. It looks like we will see more of each other this term.”, he babbled nervously, without a thought.

Élodie furrowed her brow slightly, “Pardon?”

‘Oh Merlin, help me’

He gestured to the cauldron and pointed to their opposing worktops. “Oh, I only meant the lessons. We will be staring at each other during Potions class.”

Her frown deepened.

Again, realisation hit him too late as he slowly backed away. “What I meant to say was: We will be working opposite each other…” 

“...Evidently.”, she remarked, puzzled.

Before he could ruin the conversation any further, he was saved by Professor Sharp entering and loudly pronouncing the first class.

Edwin silently returned to his place and shut his eyes for a moment. ‘Way to go, Woodruff.’

“Welcome back to the most demanding class in your curriculum. For those of you who haven’t already heard -”, Sharp glanced at the new students, “ I expect you to perform each step in this class with the utmost effort and precision. The consequences of an unfocused mind could be most perilous. Isn’t that right, Mr. Weasley?”, he asked while snatching a white vial from his desk.

All Hogwarts students smiled mischievously, while Garreth rolled his eyes. 

“Today we will brew an Invisibility Potion.”

An Invisibility Potion. This should be helpful in vanishing from the surface of Earth after that first conversation. Oh, how he missed Professor Fitzgerald's cloak.

“Can anyone tell me which ingredients we require for this?” 

Sebastian began to open his book, but yelped in surprise as it snapped shut with a muffled sound and his fingers still inside.

“Without opening the first chapter of the book, you should have already read to prepare.”

Professor Sharp narrowed his eyes at the unpremeditated huddle of students in front of him. If Quidditch was still forbidden, they could suggest avoiding-eye-contact-at-all-costs as a new school sport. 

“Leaping Toadstool Caps, Knotgrass Sprig, and Troll Bogeys, monsieur.”

All heads turned to the steady voice coming from the end of the room. Merlin, she could even say things like ‘Troll Bogeys’ and sound like an angel.

Professor Sharp nodded his head. “That is absolutely right, Miss?”

“Dubois, mons- … sir.”

Edwin stared at her. Élodie Dubois… he will not forget that name any time soon. 

“For all of you who do not know the ingredients by heart, as you should, you will find everything you need to know on page 15. You may begin.”, Sharp said before taking a seat at his desk. 

Everyone began to open their books and sort their ingredients out, but in a rather slow manner, due to the fact that most of them did not have a single clue on how it’s done. Except one. 

Edwin brewed many Invisibility Potions last year and was quite practiced. But even he couldn’t keep up with her speed. 

Surely her experience must have caught Sharp's attention. The Potions Master might not be the most cheerful professor, but he recognises talent and knowledge as well as ambition. And he was right; Sharp was glancing at them quite frequently. His mind might be clouded by the pungent smelling haze coming from Garreth’s cauldron, but he thought Professor Sharp gave him a small smile and nod at one point. Apparently, sharing near-death experiences really changes people. 

Élodie was stirring her potion already, and he was barely able to separate his Troll Bogeys. 

The rusty knife was cutting through the mass, which wobbled far too much for his liking. Edwin's attempt to slowly break the tension of the lump in front of him failed miserably as a loud blast occurred at Garreth's station, which caused him to get startled. 

To his absolute horror, the knife cut through in an instant, and a small fragment flew across the station and landed in the cauldron of Élodie. Which resulted in a similar blast going off in her cauldron. 

A shriek was heard as the hot liquid splashed onto her. He didn’t think; he just ran. 

Edwin sprinted around, and he let his wand slide down his sleeve to land in his palm like it did a hundred times before when he braced himself for battle, while her hands flew to her face. 

“Aguamenti! ”

Perhaps the spell had a bit more force than he intended. A literal waterfall opened up over her, and water began to fill the room. The floor was covered in an instant, and numerous rivulets made their way towards the book piles and glass cylinders filled with compounds.

He might as well have been hit by Petrificus Totalus according to his wide eyes and open mouth. 

Sharp’s chair flew back as he rose and flicked his wand to stop the unexpected water fountain in his classroom. 

Without the splashing of water, it became uncomfortably silent. No one knew how to react. 

The sky-blue uniform was now nearly black and completely soaked. Élodie brushed her hair out of her face and flicked her wet arms to the side in an attempt to get rid of some of the water, but quickly realised it was useless.

“Zut! “, she yelled before running out of the room. 

Edwin was stiff as a statue, as his eyes were still fixed on the spot where she was standing only moments ago. This had to be a nightmare, and he would wake up any minute in the soft grass of his Vivarium. Where was the wet lick of a Niffler when you needed it? 

“Miss Onai, would you be so kind and follow Miss Dubois. I believe she is in need of some assistance. “

Natty nodded and rushed out as well.

“Everyone else: back to work. Take that as an example of why you should pay attention at all times!”, Sharp frowned and made his way over to Edwin, who still stood on the same spot like the gargoyle guarding the teacher's room. 

He patted him on the shoulder and spoke quietly enough that only Edwin would hear him.

“No need to chisel this expression in stone, Woodruff. Nobody died.  Except, my hopes for the best Invisibility Potion in years. “, he peered over at Élodies steaming cauldron and frowned. “ You owe me an excellent potion now.”

He took a step back and announced loudly, “ Five points from Ravenclaw and five points from Gryffindor for the endangerment of other students in the first class.”

Everyone silently continued with their work, while Garreth tried to suffocate the blazing flame in his cauldron.

Edwin returned to his place and eluded all looks from his friends. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes for a few seconds before continuing with his potion, half-hearted.

Perhaps he should have paid more attention. Whatever he filled into his vial, it sure was no Invisibility Potion. When everyone placed their vials on Sharps' desk at the end of class, he was hesitant. What are the chances that he will not only embarrass the girl he likes but also blind his professor in the same lesson?

He was the last student to come up with the vial, together with Garreth, who had all kinds of colours in his vial but definitely not the white liquid everyone else has. To be fair, his own debacle of a potion was more in the beige spectrum of colours, but maybe the poor lighting of the room would give him enough time to flee the scene. 

Professor Sharp raised a silent eyebrow. “ Mr. Woodruff, Mr. Weasley, what in Merlin's name is that?”

Edwin simply turned his head to the ground, while Garreth put on an ironic smile.

“ Invisibility Potion, sir.”, answered the smug Gryffindor. 

Sharp stared back at him, clearly unimpressed by the display. 

“Well, no time like the present to inspect the wonders you two worked on in this class.”

Edwin signed. At least all the others have already left to get to Madam Kogawa in time. They certainly do not need any more gossip today.

Sharp fetched two leaves from the shelf and placed them both on a separate culture dish. He swirled Garreth's brewage around and raised both eyebrows as it changed its colour mid-swing. 

Careful, steady hands cast it over the dried-up leaf. At first, nothing happened, but after a few seconds, it changed its colour to, well, every colour there is. 

“Hm.”, Sharp inspected the vial, “ If your idea of perfect camouflage is to take on every shade known to wizardkind, this might be an achievement.” 

Garreth actually smiled at that, because what else could he do?

“Now, Mr. Woodruff.”

Sharp repeated the procedure, but he could not hold back a cough as he inhaled the pungent smell coming off the vial. 

“By Merlin’s beard.” 

The first drop hit the leaf, and it lit up in a purple flame and burned to ashes like a phoenix, but unfortunately, it remained destroyed. 

“Congratulations, Mr. Woodruff, you avoided the enemy by ending your life on your own.”

“I'm sorry, Professor. I will do better next time.”, Edwin mumbled. 

“You're right. You will both come back here at 5 p.m. And you will brew Invisibility Potion until it actually lets this leaf vanish.”

Both boys opened their mouths to protest. 

“Detention on the first day -”, Garreth started.

Professor Sharp held up his finger to stop the complaint. 

“Not a detention, Mr. Weasley. Tutoring and a safety precaution.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 8 

Clear skies hung over Hogwarts on this warm first day of school in Autumn 1891. No cloud was in sight, and the blue firmament would be his limit today.

He walked towards the Quidditch pitch, broom in hand, sporty robe on, and a frown on his face. 

Edwin really tried to find Natty and Élodie after the utter debacle that was Potions, but he could not detect them anywhere. Only Merlin knows where they went off to. Hopefully, he would get the chance to apologize properly after going completely mute as soon as he nearly drowned her.

What better way to gather his thoughts than a proper flight lesson and possible Quidditch practice. Over a year with no Quidditch would force Madame Kogawa to rearrange the teams. 

He thought he avoided his friends to spare himself the sarcastic comments this early on, but he exhaled audibly as he felt a hand padding his shoulder. 

“Woodruff, that was the most pathetic thing I have seen in a long time. And I witnessed several speeches from Black.”, Everett proclaimed, showing up at his left side.

A defeated look appeared on Edwin’s face, “Thanks, Everett.”

Ominis and Sebastian fell in step to his right, and he could make out their smug smiles from the corner of his eye.

“Anyone else want to share their opinions on certain events? Please do it now, so we can get over it.”, he heard himself declare through gritted teeth. 

“Oh, certainly not.”, Sebastian said in a mocking voice.

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean. But let me put it that way. If I ever made plans on getting advice regarding girls from you, I changed them.”

A grumpy sound escaped Edwin, and before he could defend himself, Ominis began to speak.

“Edwin, I’m not saying this often, but I was glad that I couldn’t see that.”, he could swear he saw a small smile appear on his lips. 

“Great. Now that you all had a go, we can forget about all of this and concentrate on your approaching doom.”

Sebastian snickered, “And what would that be?”

A smile forced its way on Edwin’s face, “Me, when I destroy you all in Quidditch.”

Disapproving mocking came from Sebastian and Everett, as they walked past him onto the pitch.

“You haven’t played Quidditch before, Woodruff.”, Everett stated with a cheesy grin on his face. 

Sebastian spun his broom with one hand, “Slytherin is going to dominate all of you anyway this year, but thanks for playing.”

They ran off towards the small crowd that formed in the centre of the pitch.

Edwin smiled at them and glanced at Ominis. 

“What about you, then? Will you give it a go?”, he asked the shy Slytherin.

Ominis shrugged and pulled out a leather-bound book from his robe and waved it in front of him. 

“I might be able to walk around on my own and use simple spells, but broom flying is way too complicated. I’m rather fond of my spine being in one piece.”, he gave Edwin a small smile. “I have to catch up anyway.”

The taller Ravenclaw looked puzzled at his blind friend.

“Ominis, it's the first day. I doubt that you’re already behind. And if anyone’s got to catch up, it’s probably me.”

Ominis silently turned the book around to reveal its title. Magical Theory - Advanced Studies. 

He moved his wand over the title and a gentle humming could be heard from his wand in a specific pattern. 

“We’ve got Magical Theory this year and I want to make a good impression. I’m not a fool, Edwin. I know that I will never be as good as you all in actual field practice, so I have to be especially keen to be of some use concerning the theory of it all.”

Edwin smiled sadly at his friend. He never thought about that. Everyone takes simple vision for granted. This world, this fantastic, magical, insane and stunning world that he stumbled into only some months ago was made to be looked at. All the wonders he saw in the last year… some were still unbelievable to him. 

When Professor Fig showed up in London and told him about his world, he laughed at him. How could a grown man come up with such nonsense? It was the moment when he showed him, when he opened the veil to his world that he believed him. How can someone believe any of this without ever seeing it?

Multiple objects flying through his small room and circling around their heads were an indication for magic, but the confirmation that made him truly believe was found on his mentor's face. Who knows how often he had summoned the forces to levitate something in his long life - it still made him marvel like a child seeing Christmas lights for the first time. Performing something every day and still being enchanted by it like that; it must be true magic, no doubt. 

From this day on, he mirrored his mentor’s wonder. He would find new things every single day and discuss them with Professor Fig, who would do his best to explain them to him. Seeing the fascination for magic through Edwin’s eyes gave him a new, unique perspective on his world, that he needed more than anything in this time, without either of them noticing it. 

The thoughts of his mentor made him smile, and he laid a hand on Ominis shoulder.

“I don’t think you need to worry, Ominis. Professor Fig has a passion for his subject, like most professors, and he will bring out the best in you. Take me as an example. If he was able to teach me the basics, you will get off to a flying start in his class. You got this.”

Ominis gave him a silent smile as an answer and headed to the stands to indulge himself in the heavy literature. 

Edwin watched his friend move along for a bit and was still fascinated by his steady walk using his wand to navigate through the school grounds. He himself wished to have something to reveal the right way in this world. Ever since he stepped into this hidden society, this hidden magical world, he felt like a child stumbling on. He had to run before he could properly walk, and he hoped that this term would give him the time to find balance. 

To reach the resolution of becoming a part of the wizarding world, at least one has to check a few boxes. 

Drink your first Butterbeer . He did that already with Natty in Hogsmeade, right after a full-grown troll in war armor was out for blood - his blood. Good times.

Cast your first spell. He remembered it well, and Professor Fig probably too. When he was handed the spare wand and his mentor instructed him to cast a basic charm at the stone in front of him. He did cast a basic charm, but the stone was spared, and one of Fig’s books caught fire after being hit by the ricochet charm. His professor assured him that it was an old book anyway and not significant, but he caught him later that day standing in front of his crooked and creaking bookshelf, looking rather sad at the burned cover. 

Play your first round of Quidditch. By Merlin, he was even more excited than his Niffler when it saw gold.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9 

Who could have known that Quidditch was this complicated? The young Ravenclaw had to solve puzzles with structures he couldn’t see last year and outwit Herodiana in her own domain. But when the others opened up a wooden box adorned with the emblem of Hogwarts, which revealed four strange-looking balls, two of which have been chained up for some reason, he was in for a ride. Five people tried to explain the rules of Quidditch to him - simultaneously. Madam Kogawa finally had mercy on him and shooed the huddle around him away.

“Everybody, grab a Quaffle and practise your throws. Weasley, you’re the keeper!”, she yelled after them. Garreth gave her a sloppy salute, and for the first time, Edwin noticed that he was wearing different gear than anyone else.

His classmates took off, and he turned his gaze from them to Madam Kogawa, who had a wide grin on her face, her hands behind her back, and her head tilted slightly upwards. 

“Mr. Woodruff, at last I get the chance.", the witch said with a proud smile. 

“The chance for what, Madam?”, Edwin was confused, to say the least. Did she know about what happened with the repository? He never really thought about how many people know about the true events that took place only meters underneath the ancient walls of Hogwarts. The students got a questionable lie from Headmaster Black, which most of them believed, because who could even come up with a story like reality wrote it for him that day? His friends knew about the battle, as did most Professors, but all of them?

His panicked thoughts were interrupted by Madam Kogawa. 

“The chance to congratulate you in person. It came to my attention that last term, a student had beaten not one but all my flight trial records beyond reach. In all my years teaching, only one student, Mrs. Reyes, has beaten one of them, before I could reclaim it a few days later. I was a bit surprised when Mrs. Reyes told me it was you. You only had a broom under your bum for a few months and had already left the competition in the dust. I recognize real talent when I see it, and I can't wait to see your flying put to good use playing the best and fastest sport there is - Quidditch.”

She was sparkling with excitement and made eye contact with him. But the young Ravenclaw could only look at her, perplexed. It was her. She was the unknown phantom he had been chasing for days, from the fields of Hogsmeade to the rough Clagmar Coast. 

“Thank you, Madam. I don't know what to do with such high praise…”, he uttered in a timid voice, fiddling with the blue ribbons attached to his broom.

“How about just accepting it?”, she offered as she folded her hands in front of her. 

“I do, but I doubt I will be any good for Quidditch. The little I understood earlier sounded different from the broom racing I know. Holding some kind of racket and hitting multiple balls with it?”

He should have read about the elementary aspects of Quidditch before making announcements to his friends. Well, there’s only so much you can do with your time, and shutting down illegal poacher syndicates seemed like a priority back then.

Madam Kogawa ripostes his disenchanted visage with a grin filled with anticipation.

“Well, you see, it is child's play once you get it explained methodically.“

What followed was a precise and compact description of Quidditch, which he actually understood. As it turns out, one was constantly attacked and in grave danger of being violently hit by either cannon ball-like balls or opponents out for blood. In hindsight, the upcoming game would not differ too much from last year. 

After explaining the scoring system, ground rules and the three largest balls in the chest, Kogawa straightened herself and regarded Edwin with a questioning eye. 

“Everything clear so far?” 

The young Ravenclaw nodded slowly. “I understood some of those words, but I believe so. What is this?”, he said, pointing at the shining golden ball embedded in the centre of the chest's lid, surrounded by numerous emblems. 

"Ah!", she laughed, while snatching the engraved ball out of its place.

“ That is the reason I believe that you don't have to worry about flying with a racket.”

Oh great, another complicated element to be added to his already spinning thoughts.

Edwin's frown turned into realization and his eyes widened.

“Wait, is this the Golden Snitch? Poppy told me about them. This replaced the Golden Snidgets.”, he held his hand open and Madam Kogawa placed it in his palm. 

“Indeed it did. I see you have caught up on history quite well.”, she nodded to the golden sphere he inspected closely. 

“This ball will be your world on the pitch. Your eyes should stick to it like Troll Bogeys to dirt.”

“And what do I do except look at it?”, he said, while still ogling it.

Kogawa huffed in an amused tone, “Catching it, of course. You will be Ravenclaw's new Seeker.”

His eyes darted to her in an instant, “Seeker…but surely Ravenclaw already has one.”

A sad smile appeared on her face. “Mr. Burton left Hogwarts last term, after passing his last exams. The absence of Quidditch robbed us all the best Seeker performance this school has ever seen, I'm sure of it. But you could have a good chance to surpass all expectations.”

His cheeks flushed bright red as he looked at the tiny ball in his hand. People should stop having such high expectations of him. Most of the time he had no idea what he was doing, and someday his luck would have to run out, he was sure of it.

“Which broom do you have?”, she gestured to the broom he held in his left hand. 

Edwin held it in front of him, “Oh, a Night Dancer. I got it from Mr. Weekes, and he made a few… alterations for me.”

He stroked the dark wood in such an affectionate manner, it felt like a private moment. How often did his broom carry him to safety, while curses hissed next to him? He wondered if this was still considered the same broom, after the 20th time it was fixed by Reparo.

A warm smile appeared on Madam Kogawa's face as she recognized a deep connection between her student and his valued possession. 

“If I may.”

The Ravenclaw nodded and handed her the curved wood.

“Of course.”

She hummed as the broom found its balance in her palm. The smooth surface had a few irregularities which created a unique profile.  

“A fine piece of craftsmanship. But a broom is only as good as the wizard sitting on it.”

The woman cast him a smile and handed the broom back to him. Time to see what they were both made of. 

Her wand slid through the air and the Golden Snitch spread its wings between them. Edwin watched in awe as the shining ball came to life. Merlin, he loved magic. 

“Mount your broom and try to catch it. Don't let it foul you and try to stay in one piece. “

He gave a firm nod and kept his eyes on the Snitch. Without a warning it shot off towards the sky and Edwin darted after it without thinking. How could it be this fast? 

He flew higher and higher, with only 20 metres between the flapping ball and his fingertips. After it finally levelled at one height, it began to draw figures in the sky. The elegant motion of the Snitch however wasn’t mirrored by its persecutor. 

His gloves were squeaking as he held onto the wood stronger with every turn. But all the forces flinging him from left to right hit zero when the Snitch dove towards the ground. Now that he was forced to look down, he realized how high he was before. His eyes widened behind his glasses.

Meanwhile, the whole spectacle didn’t go unnoticed by his classmates. Sebastian and Everett came to a halt and watched their friend fight against an object they couldn’t even see from that distance. But judging by his vast velocity and the fact that he has not caught the Snitch already, something wasn’t right.

“Oh, she’s good.”, Sebastian muttered. 

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”, Everett asked the impressed Slytherin.

Sebastian frowned, and he raised one eyebrow without taking his eyes off Edwin. 

“Clopton, if I had the same thoughts as a Ravenclaw, I wouldn’t be sleeping in the dungeons. But perhaps this time I do. She made it faster, didn’t she? She did the same thing with Burton last year.”

“And even he couldn’t catch it.”, Everett laughed. 

“He is not supposed to catch it, you morons.”, Imelda, stopped next to them. “Kogawa is testing his ability, but more importantly, she is testing his spirit, his character. How far is he willing to go to achieve his goal? There is more to Quidditch than flying around and hitting Bludgers.”

She eyed them both, fully aware that they were in fact Beaters for their houses. 

“Huh, and I thought I was overthinking.”, Sebastian whispered loudly enough for Imelda to hear. 

She simply shrugged and continued to watch Edwin race towards the ground at neck-breaking speed with a smug grin. 

But her grin slowly turned into a thin line when he showed no sign of slowing down.

“What is he doing?”, Everett wondered and spoke all their thoughts.

Edwin pressed against his broom and became even faster, only moments before the ground would stop his fall one way or another. He finally gained ground on the Snitch and in the last moment he lunged forward and closed one fist around the Snitch, while hoicking his broom to stop. But it was too late. Within seconds, he rolled over the grass and landed rather unfortunate on his right shoulder before coming to a halt. 

Madame Kogawa hurried over to him, while several of his classmates flew over, clearly worried. 

“Merlin, are you alright?”

Edwin groaned as he sat up on the grass slowly. “Never better.”

He opened up his fist and to her surprise, the Snitch flew over to her. 

The other students fell silent, while her mouth fell open. The proud cheers of Ravenclaws broke through as a grin broke over his face. 

“Madam, you told me to catch it.” he smiled, pleased.

“Mr. Woodruff, I would be thrilled to see you on the pitch playing for your house. Do you want to give it a try?”, she asked with pleading eyes.

“I do, Madam. But I have one question: Will I get a helmet?”

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

As it turns out, no one except the Keeper wears a helmet in Quidditch. 

After watching his classmates play a short round he cultivated a certain comprehension for Black's campaign against the risk of injury. The reminder, that the prohibition was born out of his favouritism towards pure-blood wizards and witches lessened his sympathy again. 

For Edwin, it was a sheer miracle that no student got killed in these ten minutes. To manoeuvre a broom this precisely was difficult enough. But doing so while two sentient canon balls were out for your life and clashed at you directed by your opponent. As relieved as he was when he caught that Snitch in Madam Kogawas test, as anxious was he now for his life, especially with the Slytherin Beaters looking at him while putting extra effort into their swing. Sebastian was also a Beater as far as he could tell, but he seemed less aggressive. Perhaps he was a substitute. 

A few people came up to him after the flying class and congratulated him directly or sugar-coated an adversarial threat as a complement for his success on the field. His friends were enthusiastic to say the least, and the high spirits led them to the Great Hall. The Goblet of Fire was placed in the centre of the hall and the area turned into a shrine of sorts. Every minute, someone else came in and threw their name into the blazing blue lowe. Applause for possible contenders could be heard frequently, while most of the students were spending their breaks to study or socialise on the tables around. 

Sebastian and Everett threw in their names before heading to divination class, a subject Edwin axed from his curriculum not only because he had no talent in the matter and was constantly getting the omen of death, torment and upcoming tragedy. 

Professor Onai expressed her concerns on multiple occasions, but sometimes he couldn’t take her seriously. 

Oh, he dreamed about muddy water last night? A certain death omen.

Did he just see a coffin shape while reading candle flames? He won’t live to see another year. The tea leaves in his pot simply existed, but according to his divination book he won’t any longer. 
It came to a point that Professor Onai consulted Professor Weasley, who reached out to Professor Fig. At this point he was in between his trials and Fig downplayed their affairs drastically to avoid further inspection. But he noticed a change in Professor Onai, because she avoided him or rather his outcomes in class. He couldn’t help but wonder if his involvement with her daughter contributed to it. Anyway, he couldn’t make it through another year of tension and death threats. Thankfully, after his O.W.L.’s he could arrange his curriculum for himself. 

In this case, he had a free period while most of his friends were attending divination. 

With his afternoon already having a heavy schedule, Edwin found himself strolling towards the library. While the others had no problem throwing their hats into the ring without further research on the actual challenge, he struggled with the idea. Endless glory and honour among champions were great promises for students. But did he really desire any of this?

Robes with blue and gold linings were flapping behind the young wizard as he rushed up the circular staircase. The dark niche at the far corner became his favourite place to study. Everyone always wanted to sit by the windows, catching some rays of the balmy Scottish sun. Whereas, he preferred the dark passage, where he forgot time more than once.

Reaching for some books on an upper shelf elicited him a pained grunt. Perhaps his shoulder was more bruised than he believed back on the field, while the circulating adrenaline in his body took away most of the soreness.

He sat down and placed every book he could find about history or even the Triwizard Tournament itself on the desk in front of him. The heaviest one was a good choice to begin his investigation, he presumed.

Hogwarts: A History was written in shiny ink on the ochre-brown leather cover.

It took him a while to find the right chapter, but eventually he struck gold.

‘The Tournament was notorious for being extremely dangerous: many champions died while competing, and it was discontinued at some point in or after 1792, due to the high death toll.’

What a coincidence that the charming Ministry official left that bit out of his eulogy for the tournament. 

‘There had been at least 125 editions of the Tournament: Hogwarts had 63 wins, and Beauxbatons had 62.’

Edwin frowned at that. How is it possible that Durmstrang hasn’t won yet? The guys he saw looked like they trained their whole lives to finish off competitors. Unless, the required skills didn’t include acrobatics and displays of fire spells indoors. 

'The Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel, because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792, when a Cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on the rampage.’

Catching beasts was routine for him at this point, but he hasn’t heard of a Cockatrice before. Perhaps Deek knows more about them. If this creature was able to harm three of the most powerful wizards in Europe, then it was probably for the best that he hasn’t crossed paths with one. 

The fact that Black will be the main judge in the whole procedure was unsettling, but not a problem for today. 

More articles and commentaries were consumed by his thirst for knowledge, and he could fathom the quintessence of those tasks. Similar to the trials of the Keepers, it was a test of magical ability, but to some degree also one of character. 

Many wizards and witches have expressed their concerns about the games and progressively more perilous tasks over the years. Fame and glory were not worth the risk of losing one's life this young. And Edwin could only agree with that. His friends went in blindly, and he hadn’t done enough to stop them. What if Sebastian gets selected, or Everett, or Garreth? 

Edwin left the library with an unsettling feeling which fought its way through his entire body. With a haunted look in his eyes, he made his way through the hall, a book for his potions class detention pinned under his arm, while his other hand rubbed his wrenched shoulder.

“Mr. Woodruff! Might I have a word?”

Edwin turned toward the voice and was surprised to see Mr. Osprey energetically walking up to him, his coat fluttering behind him in the process. 

“O-Of course, sir.” he stuttered. “But how do you know my name?”, he couldn’t help but wonder.

The charming smile of the Ministry man grew as he regarded the young Ravenclaw in front of him. 

“Oh, you will find that word travels fast in the wizarding world, especially in the Ministry. The news of a new student starting as a fifth year is quite remarkable, quite remarkable indeed.”

Edwin returned the friendly attitude of the man with a smile but couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy. It felt like there was more to this man under the surface, and the man's eyes searching for him didn't contribute to the unpleasant feeling settling in his stomach. 

“As you can imagine, I was surprised, sir.”, he replied shyly. 

“Of course, of course. Tell me, are you excited about the Tournament? Experiencing something like this only one year after coming into this world surely is fortunate. “, Osprey put his hands in his coat pockets and leaned slightly forward to give Edwin his full attention. 

Edwin could only smile, now being familiar with the nature of the whole contest. 

“Well, I'm happy to watch, sir. But I'm not willing to participate myself. I still have some catching up to do, and my magical abilities are not enough for a challenge like that. In fact, they could use some more practice this year.”, he raised his potions book into Mr. Osprey’s field of vision to emphasise his point. 

The expression of the ministry official changed, but Edwin couldn’t put his finger on it, what it was. Surprise? Disappointment? “Do they indeed… A pity that you won't give it a try, if you ask me.”

The Ravenclaw furrowed his eyebrows and wanted to ask whatever he could mean by that, but a hand clasped his shoulder.

“Mr. Woodruff, here you are. I’m so sorry Mr. Osprey, but I’m afraid I have to take the boy with me.”, Professor Fig intervened. 

Mr. Osprey gave them a smug smile and nodded his head before heading off. 

“You won’t get out of detention this easily!”, his mentor added while Osprey was still in earshot. Quickly, he guided his pupil to the staircase leading to the defence against the dark arts tower and to his office. 

While they crossed the bridge leading to the massive structure, he leaned over to his mentor. 

“I don’t have detention, do I?”

Judging by the startled look of his mentor, he must have been deep in thought. 

“What? No. It is the first day, how could you already have detention?”, an amused chuckle escaped Fig as Edwin held the door open for him. 

However, before the older man crossed the doorstep, he noticed his protégé avoiding eye contact at all costs and with a wince on his features. 

Fig’s posture slumped slightly as he put his hands on his hips. A disappointed “Edwin…”, slipped out of his mouth, but he recovered quite fast. 

“ I’m surprised you haven’t already heard. It feels like the whole school knows.”, the young wizard spat out, clearly huffed.

The older wizard put on a gleeful smile Edwin had never seen before. He went through the door Edwin was holding open and loudly asked, “What happened? Have you frozen the clock tower again?”

Blue eyes went wide and uneasily searched the area for possible witnesses. 

He hurried after his mentor, who was laughing to himself of all things. 

“How did you know it was me, sir?”, he wanted to know. 

Professor Fig energetically took the last step and held open the door to his classroom.

His mentor winked at him, “Why don’t we discuss it in private? Unless you want an audience for the story.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 11 Peppermint Tea

“ So, how did you know?”, Edwin asked while his mentor prepared some tea. 

“Edwin please. I might be old, but I'm not blind. You nearly choked on your juice the second Black opened his mouth. Your face turning red didn't help your case, you know. You looked like you had one of Honeydukes special bonbons.”, he chuckled and carried two cups of steaming tea to the armchairs by the fireplace. 

He couldn't sit down yet, his nervous twitching kept him standing. “I wasn't meaning to damage-”

Fig held up a finger while closing his eyes, “I confess, I am rather intrigued by the whole ordeal. But if you tell me nothing, then I have nothing to lie about.”

The professor gestured to his student to sit down. 

The Ravenclaw sat down and slumped slightly, nearly melting in the chair with a cloud of exhaustion hanging over him. 

“Well, what happened today?”, he asked before taking a long sip of steaming tea. 

“Isplashedwateroverastudent.”, Edwin mumbled into his robes, as he kept his head low, shame pouring over his features like water over a certain student. Where was the magical pit opening up to swallow him into the abyss when he needed it?

“Pardon?”, Fig tilted his head and stopped mid-motion while taking a sip of his peppermint tea. 

Edwin exhaled audibly and leaned back. His head moved in a restless motion, unsure how to begin his confession. “I might have got distracted in Potions and I might have caused hot liquid to splash onto a student, and I might have poured water over said student. I made a proper mess and my potion was a disaster as well, hence the detention to enhance my skills. “

Fig took that sip from his cup and took more time than usual. One or two seconds more wouldn't hurt to find the right words. How could he lighten the mood of his young friend? Suppressing the sudden urge to laugh was the first step in the right direction. 

“I see.”

His young charge seemed to be fairly disenchanted today, and somehow he couldn't help but wonder...

“This student… Was it one of our French guests by any chance?”

Edwin narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “How -  Oh, you have heard about it already, haven't you?”

His mentor had the audacity to grin at him and steer his tea while continuing. 

“No, but you seem really troubled about it. If you had soaked Mr. Sallow to the bone, this would have been a funny story,", he chuckled while keeping his eyes on the cup. Tea could be the most absorbing thing, when one was trying to avoid laughter at the wrong time, it seemed. 

However, the silence of his pupil made him look up. He was greeted by the smug smile of Edwin, who had a devilish twinkle in his eyes. 

It was at this moment that Eleazar Fig realised what he had said. 

“Well, let's pretend I haven't said that.”, he offered diplomatically. 

Edwin grinned into his tea and took a sip.

During the last term and numerous meetings with Professor Fig, Edwin developed a subtle obsession with tea. Although he wasn’t a tea drinker when his mentor found him in the deplorable orphanage he called a home in London, he quickly adapted to the continuous consumption of tea. But finding the perfect variety was a lifelong journey for some. The older wizard has settled on peppermint a long time ago. He made it his personal agenda to guide Edwin through the world of teas. Miriam always brought home local favourites from her travels around the world, and the story repeated itself each time. 

A new type of tea arrived with his wife, she made him taste it, and he still returned to his self grown peppermint. Although her endeavours were wasted on him, she did not surrender and nor would he with Edwin. 

He started off with the obvious choice. 

Edwin took a sip and immediately frowned at him and rolled his eyes.

“Very funny, sir. But I hate this stuff.”, he stated bluntly.

Fig laughed, “Woodruff, I knew there was a connection between you and your eponym.”

After several attempts and spit out fennel tea, he eventually found his favourite. Although Fig was disappointed that it wasn’t his peppermint, he henceforth brewed up a kettle of thyme tea with colza honey.

His wallowing in cherished memories was clouded by the fresh memory of Élodie getting soaked to the skin due to his unintentional forceful Aguamenti. 

“Professor, in magical theory, is there an explanation for the force of spells? I mean, what factors conclude the intensity of a spell?”, he leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. 

Grey eyebrows flew up, and Professor Fig began, “I'm afraid there isn't a short answer. There are whole volumes on the matter in the library. But most theorists are content that every wizard has a certain repertoire of magic in him, which can differ. The perfect wand only channels this power in the most efficient way.”, he met Edwin's eyes and saw the gears turning in his head. Steam should purr out of his ears any moment now.

“Emotions, of course, are an enormous influence. A mother trying to save her child will best the greatest wizards. Pure rage will reinforce each spell, but muddle your accuracy. A lover… “, he wanted to test his theory on his protégé having a crush and was waiting for a reaction, before continuing, but only looked into a face buried deep in thought. 

“... Will cast every charm to protect his other half.” 

Great, now both of them sank further and further into their thoughts. Did he truly believe what he said just now? Had he cast every charm to save her? 

He still didn't know what happened to her. Some nights, he cursed Ranrok for his sudden end. The bloody goblin was the key to knowing what the love of his life went through in her final moments. But some days he was glad that he was spared the details. Merlin knows, they would have broken him even more. The young Ravenclaw before him was the only reason why he was as close to sanity as one could be under these circumstances, and he couldn't bear to see his young friend as troubled as he has been the last few weeks. He made it quite clear that Edwin shouldn't carry his burden alone, but both of them were similar in their stubbornness. 

Edwin pulled him out of his thought spiral, and he was truly glad. 

“I see, thank you. Anyway, why did you want to see me today? “, Edwin shook himself a bit and grabbed his tea cup again. 

“Well, I just wanted to catch up with you. First day and all that.”, his mentor replied innocently. 

Edwin nodded slightly before pulling his eyebrows up, “No, try again.”

Fig got up to hide his smirk and to grab himself some more tea while a frustrated growl escaped his lips in the process. “Merlin's beard, Professor Weasley wanted to talk with us. In fact, -”, he flicked his wand to purr himself more tea and grabbed his fob watch, while his magic worked its wonders with the kettle. 

“She will be here any minute now.”

“This is about the Triwizard Tournament, isn't it? Don't worry, I haven't thrown my name in, and I don't intend to.”

His mentor released a breath he didn't even know he was holding. He turned around, but the face of his protégé made him frown. 

“What makes you think we don't want you to participate?” 

Blue eyes glared at the older man with a blank expression. 

“Someone with my abilities who can't control them properly in a tournament, which will be followed by the public? It's destined to fail or worse, hurt someone in the process.”, Edwin looked down at his hands and slowly balled them into fists. 

“You got it quite wrong, I'm afraid. It's not to protect them, but to protect you.”, his mentor stated to his surprise. 

Edwin turned his gaze upward and straightened his glasses, “Me? Why?” 

Professor Fig gave him a disbelieving snort. How could his young friend be this oblivious? “ Because you are more important to the wizarding world than some tournament will ever be. And besides that, what occurred right under the school… it simply can't be a coincidence, that the tournament is right after and the Ministry sends an official.”

“Why would the Ministry be interested in me? I'm nobody.”, he gathered that his special entry to the school made it to the Ministry, but he didn't think much of it. 

Fig put his hands on his hips, “Why the sudden lack of self-worth? Is it because of the accident in Potions? Or is it because said accident happened to one of our French guests?”, he couldn't help but challenge the young man. 

Edwin's eyes turned to the size of a Mooncalfs, “What?! No, why would it matter?” 

His mentor saw the defence coming and held his hands up in a surrendering posture.

“I come in peace. Forgive me, I'm just an old fool, but I'm not blind. You stared at someone in the Great Hall and I couldn't help but wonder -”, he walked like he was tip toeing over shards. He was afraid to scare Edwin off. He knew himself that these things are sensible topics in his young age. 

“Oh.” Edwin simply replied, blushing. 

His mentor was quick to add, “If you don't want to talk about it, it’s perfectly alright. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Edwin waved him off, “No, it's fine. Well, I messed up already so…she probably hates me.”

The sight of the Ravenclaw broke his heart. He grabbed the handles of his chair. 

“I would rather not count how many years ago it was exactly, but I once sat in that hall as well.”, he smiled, recollecting this fond memory. 

“I looked over to the Ravenclaw table and saw the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. Her eyes found mine and she smiled. That smile could have bewitched the whole world, but at this moment it felt like she smiled just for me. I also handled our first conversation less eloquently than intended. She avoided me for a whole week.”, he winced.

“But in the end it worked”, he shrugged. The old wizard folded his hands if only to recreate her hand holding his, but nothing could ever compare. 

Edwin stared at him, sensing the emotion running through him. “How…what did you say to her?”

His mentor laughed whole heartily “I wish I knew. Whatever it was I did, she somehow fell in love with an old fool like me. Why? I can't tell you. You will have to find out what she wants to hear or, if she is the right one, you will have all the right words at that moment.”

Edwin smiled a bit at that. “Élodie. Her name is Élodie.” He leaned back and immersed himself in a reverie. 

Fig was glad to see his pupil being fond of someone,“Hm. What a beautiful name.”

“Yes.”, The young Ravenclaw blushed again and couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. 

“I'm looking forward to meeting her.”, the professor raised his cup to that. 

Judging by the look in Edwin's eyes, he lost his student for the moment. 

The older man took a few more sips to let his protégé dream a bit before addressing him again. 

“Earlier, you… You said that you can't control your abilities properly. What do you mean?”, he urged the young man.

“Nothing really.”, Edwin shrugged as his daydream was broken and gravity took back control over the corners of his lips. . 

“Ah, try again.”, Fig couldn't help but echo the cheeky reply of his student.

Edwin rolled his eyes with a smile.

“It was just a feeling I had in flight class today. My…my fingertips were… tingling. And in addition to that my Aguamenti was way too forceful this morning.”

He stopped to inspect his hands further, but the professor encouraged him with a kind, “Please, go on.”

“It was the same feeling I have when I use ancient magic. It felt like… like it wanted to break out. What if I can't contain it? What if I'm corrupted like Isidora? Most of the time I don't know what I'm doing exactly when I unleash this force.”, his breathing picked up speed. 

Eleazar could only shake his head. 

“I have seen you use it and I have faith that you can learn to wield this astonishing force within you, in time. You only spend a few months with your magic and already are one, if not the most powerful wizard I know.”

Now it was Edwin's turn to shake his head in disapproval. 

“And this is exactly what I don't want. I don't want to be the most powerful anything .”

His mentor was at a loss for words. How could he reassure his pupil, when he couldn't possibly fathom the weight of it all on his shoulders. 

“I can't say that I understand fully, because I don't know what it's like, but believe me when I say: You did extraordinarily well so far. The situation you were pushed into? You handled it well, and saved us all.” 

Edwin looked at him blankly. 

“And on the subject of you becoming evil and using your abilities to suppress the wizarding world… “, he made himself chuckle. 

His laughing only stopped when he looked into the face of his protégé and saw the fear behind those blue eyes shimmering through like a dark veil.

“You have something in you that not many people possess, for as long as they live. And I'm not talking about your magic. Well, in a way it also is a kind of magic.”

His pupil continued to look at him, clinging to his lips. 

“Kindness, Edwin. You have kindness in every fibre of your being. Everyone has a spark of kindness in them, but few act upon it as you do. And this, this will guide your heart.”, he pointed to Edwin's chest and the eyes of his young friend followed his motion. 

“Except, you have the sudden urge to rain hell upon us all with a flick of your wand. “

Edwin smiled at that and this smile reached his eyes in its truest form. 

“No, sir. Not at the moment.” 

“Oh, I am glad. I'll come back to you, when I'm knee-deep in exam preparations.”, his professor remarked with an exhausted laugh. He checked his fob watch again and signed. 

“Professor Weasley is taking her time, it seems.”

Both cups were raised, and they enjoyed the silence between them for a few moments. The crackling of the fireplace filled up the quiescent state of the old castle room. 

“Sir, what is your opinion on Quidditch?” 

Fig was caught off guard by the question and genuine surprise appeared on his face.

“Oh, I never had the talent for it. I got hit by a Bludger rather badly in 4th grade. Although, I believe I don't have lasting effects from it, I have mixed feelings for Quidditch. Watching it however, is a must in Hogwarts. Why the sudden interest? Has the cancellation finally found its end?”

Edwin placed his saucer on the swaying pile of books next to his armchair and a small smile turned up the corner of his mouth.

“Yes, and I had my first Quidditch lesson today.”, he announced with a bit of pride lacing his voice.

His mentor chuckled, “Ah, did Madam Kogawa let you try to catch the uncatchable Snitch?” 

“She did and…”, Edwin stopped his sentence, but his hands started moving in a nervous manner, as if they continued his share of the conversation.

“And…?”, the older wizard raised his cup for another sip.

“And I caught it.”

The steaming peppermint tea never reached its destination, due to the man holding the cup freezing in his motion. 

Edwin looked a bit unsure, seeing his mentor reacting in this way, “I'm the new Seeker for Ravenclaw and I don't know how to feel about it.”

Finally, the older wizard thawed from his rigidity. 

“Godric's heart, this is - Edwin, that's wonderful. Madam Kogawa told me that you were gifted with the broom. Reflecting on it, I shouldn't be surprised. Congratulations are in order. ”

Red colour emerged on his cheeks and he hugged himself, which made him even smaller in the big chair. 

“Thank you. I'm nervous though. Madam Kogawa told me about the previous Seeker and I’ve got quite the boots to fill, it seems.”

Fig was quick to enlighten his young friend, “Mr. Burton was a sensational Seeker, but according to the latest gossip he wasn't keen on following that path for his life. He had quite the passion for potions, and Madam Kogawa often turned a blind eye to his other pursuits in favour of Quidditch. He was talented and Madam Kogawa was pressuring him a bit too much if you ask me.”

“Oh…”

Fig folded his hands, “ So please, don't let yourself be pressured like Mr. Burton but for Merlin's sake, even I want to see you catching that Snitch. Which means a lot, considering I'm betraying my own house.”, his eyes went wide at the realisation.

“Is rivalry really a thing?”

Perhaps it was the lack of Quidditch last year, but in his experience there wasn’t much competition between houses. No more than the healthy competition between every student and the funny banter concerning the common rooms now and then. 

Professor Fig only chuckled knowingly. “Oh you have no idea.”

Edwin threw up his hands, “Care to elaborate?”

“Quidditch brings out the best in its athletes but the worst in its viewers. Your recruitment as a Seeker is going to stir the bet pool immensely.”

The young Ravenclaw couldn’t believe his ears. He was aware that most students indulged in minor bets to pass the time and make the day-to-day routine a bit more fun - Everett being the best example. Over the months he heard the wildest ideas.

How about a bet on who could grow Wiggenweld the fastest? Sounds simple and harmless enough, right? Except it became a flood of detention worthy rule destructions within days. 

Garreth figured that mineralised water wasn’t enough to gain height in time. The following potions classes became a testing ground for potential special-wiggenweld-fertiliser. Several explosions later, Professor Sharp began to wonder. The occasional cloud of destructed herbs over Garreth's bench was a well known sight in Potions. What caught the professor's attention however was the increasing number of similar accidents happening on every corner of his classroom. Even Amit blew up his cauldron out of the blue. Everett and Sebastian were on it together from the beginning, figuring that splitting the winnings would still be profitable. Within days over twenty students were involved and Professor Garlick was cherishing each and every one of her young shoots. The greenhouse became the new common room. Curfews were broken and eventually the glass ceiling. Apparently, Cressida's new plant growth spell had more similarities with Bombarda than Aguamenti. 

The circumstances of the ongoing ‘accidents’ were further investigated and when Black found out it was due to the bet pool getting out of hand, he forbade every form of betting. A shame, really, because Edwin was ahead in the plant race at the time. 

This was the main reason why Edwin was all the more surprised that there were betting pools for Quidditch. By the sound of it, the faculty was aware of them and even interested? But what was all the fuss about, when he most likely was going to break the Ravenclaw winning streak this year anyway. 

“If I'm any good at it.”, he replied to his mentor, who seriously believed his position would change any of the bets. 

Professor Fig slapped his leg in a frustrated manner and addressed his pupil. “Once again the lack of confidence. Do I have to worry?” 

“No. I'm - “

The Ravenclaw boy couldn’t finish his defence, because an old door hurriedly squeaked open.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

Professor Weasley hurried into the cosy office, and a cold breeze followed her in, cooling the air warmed up by a crackling fire. The two people facing the flames turned their heads towards the door, after the sudden disturbance.

The deputy headmistress wore authority like a second dress. When Edwin first met her, he wasn't sure of her character. But as the term went on, he was struggling more and more to keep her in the dark about his extracurricular adventures and liabilities. She was nothing short of supportive of him. The Room of Requirements became his second home within Hogwarts, and he should show her the new vivaria sometime, to prove to her that he put the shared secret to good use. He imagined that he wasn't the only one in the castle who would prefer her sitting in the highest office of the school instead of Black, the consequential delegate of pure-blood supremacy. 

His blood status was apparently of great interest to Black before he was brought to Hogwarts, according to Professor Fig. Apparently, Black was convinced that he must be a ‘bloody Mudblood’, because no pure-blood dynasty would abandon one of their own in a Muggle orphanage. Despite the fact that nobody really knows his parents, and he doesn't even know his own blood status, Black still harbours a grudge against him. 

To his relief, the deputy headmistress was not sharing the lidded perspective of their headmaster. The benevolent witch was making her way towards them, casting a kind look over her half moon spectacles. 

“I have to apologise for being late. A transfiguration gone wrong caused havoc in my classroom.”, she offered as an apology for her slight belatedness. Merlin knows she has enough on her plate, dealing with Black's incompetence each day. 

Professor Fig put on a reassuring smile, “Don't worry Professor Weasley. We had quite a bit of catching up to do. Tea?”

He lifted his cup to her, and she exhaled audibly while conjuring a chair out of thin air. 

“That would be wonderful.” She sat down between them. Red velvet and dark wood protruded from her chair, highlighting the pride she still has for her old house. His mentor got up to put another peppermint tea kettle on. 

The transfiguration professor meanwhile focused entirely on him. And what was that in her eyes? A bit of fear? Concern?

“Well, I will come straight to the point. Mr. Woodruff, have you cast your name into the Goblet of Fire?”, she asked calmly.

Edwin shook his head vehemently. “No, and I don't intend to.”

Just like his mentor, she exhaled relieved upon hearing about his inactivity. “Merlin's beard, what tremendous news. I was anxious we would be too late. I gather Professor Fig already told you why.”

The older wizard caught the look of the deputy headmistress and was pulled out of his focus concerning the tea set. His grey, bushy eyebrows shot up, and he looked at both of them, wondering if it was his turn in the ongoing conversation.

“Pardon?”, he said with wide eyes. 

Professor Weasley released a sigh but couldn't help the smile that was forming on her kind features, lifting the tension a bit. 

“ Have you told your protégé about our intentions, Elea - Professor Fig?”, she demanded, nearly floundering his correct title, while a student was present. 

His face fell and he smiled apologetically. “Oh, not really.”

“Alright. Mr. Woodruff -” she began but changed her tone to a softer one, dropping the formalities. 

“Edwin, we are aware that the last term was by all means a challenging one for you. We all saw what responsibilities you are burdened with and what you are guarding from the darker forces of our world. Hogwarts owes you a great debt.”

Edwin was quick to shake his head, his fluffy brown fringe bouncing with it. “Hogwarts doesn't owe me anyth-” 

Professor Weasley put up a hand and interrupted him firmly. “Oh yes, it does.”

Edwin pressed his mouth into a thin line and watched his mentor pouring the tea, to avoid her gaze. But even the older wizard nodded his head this time, obviously following the conversation enough to cast a side eye to him, conveying the message ‘I told you so’ quite clearly. 

Professor Weasley continued, “The tournament is dangerous without a doubt, but we believe that there is a bigger picture.”

Immediately, Edwin wanted to ask what his professor meant with her cryptic innuendo, but it hit him like a Depulso in battle. 

Why would Mr. Osprey be disappointed by him not entering the competition? Unless…

“You believe it's a trap." Edwin's blue eyes darted between the adults in the room, searching for any sign of confirmation. "You believe the Ministry wants me to use ancient magic in public?"  

Professor Weasley put on a sad smile and sat up a bit straighter. “Your abilities are unique, as far as we know. No other wizard possesses such power at this moment. The Ministry has a history of taking an interest in special wizards. And your magic would create a public discussion, on which all of your professors who joined you under Hogwarts agreed.”, she gave Fig a suggestive look as he sat down, offering her a steaming cup of home-grown peppermint.

The young Ravenclaw watched his teachers and confidants, while thinking about the statement thrown into the space between them.

“You make it sound like the Ministry doesn't know what happened with the repository.”

A pleased chuckle escaped her.

“The Ministry, as well as the headmaster, know about a goblin invasion under the castle and Ranroks defeat. But we thought it's best, if the repository would be kept a secret for its own safety and for the safety of its last guardian.”, a meaningful glance reached him over half moon spectacles, which reflected the blazing flames of the fireplace. But their heat wasn’t the cause of his warming heart at this moment.

The deputy headmistress of Hogwarts, world-renowned school for witchcraft and wizardry, deliberately withheld information from the Ministry of Magic concerning the most perilous riot of goblin kind since the Goblin Rebellion of 1752, because of…him? 

He couldn't help it, as his eyes became a whit moist.

“Thank you.”, he breathed.

His mentor shared a kind smile with the transfiguration professor. “We should be thanking you.”

Professor Weasley took a sip of her tea before continuing.

“But despite our best efforts, there have been rumours. Every student in Hogwarts felt the earth moving under their feet for hours. Therefore, countless theories on what really happened emerged over the summer. The Ministry is still investigating and Mr. Osprey will be the battering ram, forcing his way into the school. We can only hope that your involvement is still unknown to Spavin's sniffer dog.”

Edwin flinched, and Professor Fig caught on to his suspicion, tilting his head a bit to give him an intense look. The deputy headmistress put her cup slowly back on the saucer.

“Judging by your reaction, Mr. Osprey already acted suspicious?”, she guessed correctly.

“Edwin, what were you two talking about, before I dragged you off?”, his mentor asked with a wrinkled brow.

Nervous hands, belonging to a pensive Ravenclaw, rubbed along the armrests.

“It was all rather strange, I suppose. I came out of the library and he knew my name. He especially asked me if I would compete. I declined, and he said, ‘what a pity’.”

Professor Weasley's tender smile was replaced by concern. A lost smile can put more years on your shoulders than any Ageing Potion ever could. And right now, the witch looked years older. 

“This is troubling news. But we can only continue on our path. No attention should come your way. Try to avoid the man as best as you can - keep your head low.”, she advised the young wizard.

“Well, this endeavour probably borders on the impossible, professor.”, Fig said, pointing towards Edwin. “Mr. Woodruff got himself the position of Ravenclaw's new Seeker after his first Quidditch lesson.”

The proud expression on his mentor's face infected him with a smile just as wide.

Meanwhile, the half moon spectacles of Professor Weasley slid down a few centimetres, due to the fact that her eyebrows flew towards her red hair line.

“Godric's heart, is it true?”, she asked.

Edwin grinned back, “I'm afraid so.”

She sighed, “Whilst I am happy for you, I am rather concerned about our house.” Her glance at Fig interrupted her rant. “ I was really looking forward to a successful season for Gryffindor with Mr. Barton gone. But from what I've heard about your abilities with a broom, I fear for the victory of my lions.” 

Although she chuckled, a hint of desperation shone through. Edwin only shrugged playfully.

“Ignore all that. Professor Weasley is only concerned about her bet on Gryffindor going up in flames after the first two games.”, his mentor stated bluntly, earning an appalled look from the transfiguration Professor. Edwin was certain that the saucer in her hands was the only thing keeping her from a forceful nudge of his shoulder.

“Eleazar Fig! As a proud Gryffindor, it should be your duty to defend our house from such opposition. Did you even try to prevent this?”, her authority slipped away, revealing a witch still fighting in the corner of her house. While Edwin had difficulties imagining his teachers ever wandering this castle and being just as clueless as most of his peers were now, he could see the young witch in Professor Weasley right now. The same glee twinkled in her eyes all these months ago, when she found her old school bag while they were on their way to meet Deek. 

Her allegations bounced off of Fig like he had a Protego surrounding him. Calmly, he took a sip of his tea before speaking. “ Prevent it? Why should I prevent it, when my bets are on the best team this year?”

Edwin could watch the banter forever, but his gaze fell on the old clock in the bookshelf behind them, and his eyes widened. 

“Oh Merlin, is this the time?!” He jumped out of his chair and ran to the door, muttering apologies along the way.

“Heavens, what was this about?”, Professor Weasley wondered, being left behind in utter confusion. 

A quick glance at his fob watch told him everything he needed to know. “It appears that Mr. Woodruff landed himself in detention on the first day.”, he replied, amused.

His colleague chuckled as she removed her glasses to polish the fine lenses with a white, embroidered handkerchief. 

“ I wouldn’t be surprised if he shared the honour with Garreth. He avoided me the whole day in the most impressive way. Considering his schedule, Edwin’s on his way to Aesop, is he not?”, the witch deduced. 

Fig only lifted his shoulders innocently, “My lips are sealed.”

Professor Weasley continued to drink her tea with a pleased smile on her mouth. Tea with Eleazar was a welcomed break from the stressful routine of being deputy headmistress for an incompetent headmaster. 

When the Book of Admittance was filled with a new name by the Quill of Acceptance, the whole faculty was intrigued. A new student starting as a fifth year? Was this even possible? Most professors were supportive from the very beginning, in contrast to the headmaster. Over the years she had many arguments with Phineas Nigellus Black, but this particular evening in her office, she would never forget. Her red hair was a phenotype her family was proud of for generations, but on this occasion it might as well have been the sheer rage forcing its way through to the outside, when Black announced to her that he wouldn’t allow a fifth year to begin in Hogwarts. The school had a reputation to uphold after all, which was a challenge already, with all the mudbloods infecting children of prestigious families with their imbecility.

How she convinced him to let a professor tutor the boy will forever be a mystery in her eyes. But her best guess is that he wasn't willing to put any effort into this young wizard, and giving up simply spared his precious time.

She couldn’t even wait until the next morning to ask Professor Fig. To say that she was planning this from the moment Black agreed to the whole ordeal wouldn’t be right. Matilda Weasley was set on this arrangement the moment the enchanted quill left the parchment, in fact. 

Ever since he - they lost Miriam, a part of him disappeared into the unknown as well. Upon reading the letter from the Ministry, his first reaction wasn't shock, but denial. There had to be some mistake. Miriam, his Miriam supposed to be dead? No, the Ministry probably messed up their research once again. 

It took a while before the possibility that what’s written in the letter the black feathered owl brought was the truth even crossed his mind. Ultimately, he crossed the line to being paralysed by grief soon after. Those were the days Matilda Weasley would wipe with Obliviate from all their minds, if she could.

Not every day at Hogwarts was worth remembering. 

But what a blessing it was seeing him like this only a year later. Seeing this glee in his eyes again. Seeing the wonder and care he held within him for their world and his students again. Seeing the troubled look on his face again?

She noticed him nearly bursting to ask her something before converting her focus on her little reverie to his misery right now.

“Oh, spit it out, Eleazar. Keeping it in won't do you any good.”, she teased, putting down her now empty cup.

“I…well”

Was this really Eleazar Fig, her long time colleague and friend fumbling his words like a third year who was afraid to tell her he transformed his book into an aardvark, again.

“I figured, with you having Garreth as a nephew and keeping an eye on him, you might have some advice. Lately, I have some trouble getting Edwin to open up. I know his mind isn't at ease, and yet on some subjects he is keeping more to himself. I only want to help, Matilda.”

The witch gave him an understanding smile.

“First of all, he is a teenage boy. Remember what was going on in our heads at the time? Now imagine the additional pressure of being the guardian of a long forgotten kind of magic and only discovering magic altogether a year ago. Eleazar, I will be honest with you, I’m staggered he isn't bordering on lunacy yet.” 

Her voice became more gentle, ”Give him time. Through all his adventures, rescue missions and extracurricular shenanigans, he hasn’t had the time to be a normal boy. And yes, being self-contained towards adults is part of the process.”, she chuckled.  

Eleazar leaned back in his chair and audibly sighed. “I suppose you're right, Matilda.”

The deputy headmistress only smiled back and inwardly cheered for the relationship which blossomed between her colleague and his pupil. Another plan accomplished.

“I usually am, Eleazar.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 13 Waltzing in

Of course, he felt bad storming out of his mentor's office like that. But dealing with a disapproving Professor Fig was a calculated risk, considering that the alternative was Professor Sharp, not fuming with rage, but showing silent disappointment.  

When he turned the corner on screeching heels, he was relieved to only find Garreth in the room. Sharp was nowhere in sight, thank Merlin.

“There you are. I thought you would leave me alone with Sharp.”

“As if I would ever do that.”, Edwin laughed, not admitting that the thought crossed his mind in the library. 

“But where is he? I'm already five minutes late.”

As far as the young Ravenclaw knew, Professor Sharp was quite keen to establish discipline in his class, and he is very exacting about punctuality. 

“I don't know, but if he wants to limit our free time on the evening of the first day, he better be miserable with us.”, the Gryffindor said, annoyance seeping into his voice like the caustic fluid through his desk. 

Edwin made a face but ultimately sauntered to his work station. 

“Well, if we begin now, we will be done in half an hour and on our way. And you will be in time for the first day party in your common room.”, Edwin smirked.

Garreth mirrored the mischievous smile of Edwin, “Tell me, how does a Ravenclaw know about our common room celebrations?” 

“The Fat Lady is a tell-tale, I tell you.”, the young wizard remarked, turning to his workstation and books.

He was about to reach for the first ingredient, standing prominently on the top shelf above his cauldron, when a sharp pain shot through his shoulder. Apparently, a good hour of rest in front of a fire was not enough to heal a minor Quidditch injury. 

Like a wounded Fwooper he pressed his hurt limp to his chest and continued to work one-handed. 

Thankfully, Garreth was so concentrated on whatever potion he actually brewed, that he ignored Edwin and the world. 

Out of sheer habit, Edwin began to throw together the ingredients for a basic Wiggenweld Potion. Hopefully, Professor Sharp would be distracted by whatever kept him a few moments longer. 

The minutes passed and only the low bubbling of heated fluids filled the room with any kind of sound. 

Edwin downed the Wiggenweld and felt an immediate improvement. Flexing his shoulder a few times, he was satisfied with the result and began the Invisibility Potion. 

How often has he brewed it already in the Room of Requirement? At this point, brewing potions manifested itself in his muscle memory. 

All the worse was his disastrous result early today. But how could he keep all his thoughts together, when he not only soaked Élodie to the bone but also embarrassed himself, and a lot worse, her…

‘No, no more of that, Woodruff. Pull yourself together.’ he told himself. He couldn't mess this up, again. He couldn't let Professor Sharp down, again. Apparently, the man was certain that he had a serious talent and intuition for potions. To an extent, where he even bragged about it to Professor Fig. Although Professor Sharp was quite reserved, he took pride in students, who could master his lessons, rightfully so. 

After a few more minutes, Edwin was nearly finished with his potion and the clanking of glass indicated that Garreth was as well, already bottling his witches’ brew. 

Their paths crossed as they both made their way to Professor Sharp's empty desk, the vial covered with a firm grip to hide its true colour. For the first time, Edwin was hit with concern for the ex-auror. Surely, the man could handle himself, the fight under Hogwarts being his best evidence. But after the enlightening conversation with Professor Weasley and Professor Fig, he feared the presence of a nifty plot being hidden behind the thick walls of the castle. What if Sharp's past with the Ministry caught up with him? Which side would he take? Are there even sides to take? His head was swirling with questions, but only time could answer them.

“We should leave them here and head out. I'm not wasting the whole evening for Sharp. C'mon.”, Garreth wined, gesturing to their vials.

Edwin played the scenario though in his head and eventually hook said head.

“Let's wait just a tad longer.”

The ginger exhaled, clearly bugged by the whole ordeal. 

“Well, at least let us test this stuff, before Sharp rips our heads off again.”

While Edwin had faith in his brewing abilities, he couldn't deny that a touch of additional caution wouldn’t hurt.“You're probably right.”, he said, already grabbing the leaves.

Surprisingly, Garreth's potion worked perfectly. No explosions, no unexpected side effects. Simply a leaf silently vanishing before their eyes.

“I can't believe it bloody worked! I accidentally dropped one Troll bogey too many in there.”, Garreth said, clearly baffled by his success.

Edwin grinned, “Some accidents make all the difference.”, his eyebrows shot up, while looking into the Gryffindor’s eyes. “But you shouldn't force them to get new recipes all the time.”

Carefully, the young Ravenclaw let a few drops of his potion drizzle out of the vial.

Similar to Garreth’s potion, the leaf vanished without further ado. Both boys nodded in silence and simultaneously turned to the door, but no Professor was in sight to release them into freedom.

“Great, now what?”, Garreth said while leaning on the desk in a nonchalant manner. 

“I suppose we could leave a note?” 

The Ravenclaw shrugged. 

Garreth immediately dashed to his workstation and returned with a crumpled piece of paper and a quill that looked like a plucked chicken. 

“We'll do that then, because I won't stay here a minute longer, mate.”, the redhead said, scribbling some lines down. 

His shaky handwriting, which easily could be misinterpreted as some ancient runes, got even more shaken up, when the heavy doors of the classroom flew open.

Professor Sharp limped in, Black upon his heels. The face of the potions professor was fixed on his office door and twisted into a mixture of annoyance and denegation towards whatever proposal the headmaster had for him.

“Sharp, I sincerely hope that the significance hasn’t evoked itself out of your attention. As a teacher of this school -”, Black's eyes landed upon the two students standing next to the round table at the other end of the room.

“What are you two doing here without a professor to supervise every move near potential explosive potions?” 

Arms, dressed in his signature green tailcoat, vanished behind his straightened back. Despite being nearly impossible, his nose rose even higher than usual.  

Edwin gestured to their vials, “We, uh… We came for detention and no one was here. We -”

“Waltzed in and disregarded all rules of safety? Jumped at the opportunity to brew grubby potions?”, headmaster Black continued for him.

Both boys began to shake their heads. “No sir, we -”

Thankfully, Professor Sharp slid in.

“Did exactly what I told them. They had my permission, headmaster. I didn't know how sprawling our meeting would become. If you would excuse me now, I have some potions to grade.”

He turned away from the man brimming with arrogance and hobbled towards his pupils with a slight grin. 

“This won't be the last word in the matter, Sharp.”, warned Black.

“And you two…” he pointed at them with his black leather glove. A fashion choice which should indicate utter debility in summer.

“ Landing yourself in detention on the first day. A disgrace to the high form of education you receive in these walls. Five points from each house in addition to the point deduction I hope you both have already earned. One should think you have learned your lesson by now, Mr. Weasley. And there should be more efficient methods to catch up with knowledge than repeating it in detention, Mr. Woodruff.”, he spat their names before leaving. 

“He really likes to hear himself talk, doesn’t he?”, Garreth mumbled.

“Mr. Weasley, you are most fortunate, that I was hard of hearing for a second or two. First of all, I am sorry that I forgot to meet you two here, but this doesn't permit you to start on your own, understood?”

The Professor arrived next to them at the desk. His stern gaze was partly muddled with pain. Judging by his unsteady walk, his leg was done for the day. Merlin knows how long Black chased the poor man, before he reached his sanctuary.

The two students nodded their heads in silence.

A sigh escaped Sharp's mouth.

“Good. I see you already tested your potions. Well done. You may go. You already missed dinner, no need for you two to break curfew, too.”

Garreth didn’t need to hear another word and went off like he had been stung by a Billywig. Edwin went on to follow him, although he wouldn’t join the Gryffindor extravaganza. No, after a twisted day like this, he longed for the wide pasturages of his vivariums. He longed for the smell of fresh grass, the sound of trees swinging in the gentle breeze and the sound of Hippogriff wings drumming in the air like a heartbeat. How bad could a day be, if you cradle a newborn Niffler by the end of it? 

Oh, how he longed for the silence of -

“Mr. Woodruff, may I have a word, before you go?”

Great. 

“Of course, sir.”, despite his plans, he couldn't just say no and run off. But some day he just might do it, if only to see the face of the person addressing him in an inconvenient moment.

Professor Sharp guided him into his office and made him sit. Hesitantly, Edwin sat down, eying the clock in the corner. Ever the auror, Professor Sharp noticed his line of vision.

“Don't worry. I won't take up too much of your time. I was simply surprised to see your result today. Usually, your potions are the best in class, and as far as I can tell, you should be more than versant with this particular potion, judging by your extracurricular activities.”

The Ravenclaw shifted in his chair and flushed slightly from the memory of today's class.

“I suppose I got a bit distracted after, you know.” 

Here he was. The Hero of Hogwarts, the Troll Whisperer, the Guardian of the Last Repository.  So many big phrases assembled on his shoulders, and yet he could not get himself to speak of his actions. The mere thought of it led to his cheeks resemble the colour of embarrassment.

Sharp folded his hands and leaned forward a bit.

“Hm, No one got hurt, and it was by far not the most embarrassing thing to happen in this castle. Everyone makes mistakes now and then. Without mistakes every potion would be perfect, and every student would take potions in their N.E.W.T.s resulting in chaos. I cherish my subject, but not to that degree.”

Edwin returned the slight smirk of his teacher, appreciating the joke to break the tension a bit. Similar to Sharp noticing his line of sight earlier, he registered his quick gaze to his auror badge by the mention of mistakes. Although the professor took pride in his first profession, he moved the badge back to his office. Why, Edwin couldn’t tell. Perhaps he got tired of a new spate of first years asking the same questions over and over again. 

Silence spread between them and Edwin sensed a change in Professor Sharp's behaviour. Was it possible that his stern teacher was nervous?

“I also wanted to let you know that you are more than welcome if you need someone to talk to. After everything you've been through the last year. Professor Fig couldn’t tell me what happened down there between Ranrok and you, because he was…indisposed himself. But my best guess is that you had to stop Ranrok, whatever the cost may be. Considering his actions and ideals, he had it coming, but still. You took a life and I don't want you to feel like you're alone with those events.”

His dark eyes drilled through him, burning their way through his thoughts. Whatever he expected to happen, he wouldn’t have bet on this. 

Albeit, the professor was right, and he felt ashamed that he hadn't considered this aspect before. The facts that Ranrok was never going to bag down and that the powers of the final repository were at stake are beyond dispute. But did he have the right to take a life? In all fairness it was either him or the megalomaniac goblin leader, ready to subjugate the wizarding world. The choice was not as difficult as it should have been. 

His thoughts wandered to the last pensive memory he witnessed. What choice did Bakar have? 

“Thank you, sir. I will consider it.”

Sharp's expression was unreadable, as he dismissed the young Ravenclaw.

Edwin couldn't wait to retreat to his bunk bed after the day had, and it was only the first. The riddle he had to solve to enter the common room was an even bigger nuisance than usual, and he was only a puddle jump away from giving up and sleeping on the floor next to the door. 

How could he focus on a riddle, when his whole life was a session full of questions with few answers? Mr. Osprey knew his name and Professor Black addressed him correctly as well. Black, the ignorant and self-centred egomaniac who couldn’t even name all members of staff without Professor Weasley's help. But perhaps all of this could wait another day.

‘What gets wet while drying?’

Who would have thought that a door has such a sense of humour.

Chapter Text

Chapter 14 

Ever since Edwin stepped into this hidden world, he couldn’t help but wonder - about everything - all the time. 

Where did it all come from? How was it possible that magic unfolds on earth like that? If magic was containable like the one in the repository, it must be made out of something, right? Did it originate from a mere coincidence, or was it created? Did it rain upon earth like a shooting star he witnessed in astronomy on Wednesday? Most of those questions can't be answered in the library, not even in the restricted section. Fortunately, Magical Theory is on his curriculum this year and his hopes are high, to get some answers. Of course, he could ask Professor Fig anytime, but then again, he would be pretty bored in class. 

One thing was for certain. Whoever or whatever created magic was involved in time itself. How could one explain the passing of time without using the word magic?

Last week flew by like a Billywig on a warm summer day. But when he was standing in the potions' classroom, raised wand in hand, he felt like time froze.

Against his expectations, no one bugged him about the incident after the first day. To be fair, he avoided people for the most part and retreated to his usual place in the far corner of the library. A head start in all subjects couldn’t hurt, right? Especially, if he still had catching up to do from four missed years. Four missed years, where his peers could marvel at the beauty of magic and the lightness it brought to day to day life. Four years and more where the repository was unprotected of dark foes, he dreads to think.

After repeating his routine of attending classes, and immediately running to the library afterwards for the fourth day, he got tracked down by Natty. 

She implored him to forget about the silly accident. Apparently, even Élodie laughed about it in the girls' restroom afterwards. However, any form of reassurance was wasted on him. Élodie and all her fellow Beauxbatons girls ignored him, rightfully so. 

Of course, people seemed to notice that the young Ravenclaw was in a mood. His friends gave him some space and his professors some strange looks. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what was wrong. Was he angry at himself? His actions? His inability to be normal? Sometimes people were comfortable to be in a mood, he guessed.

This state drew itself over the whole week to next Monday evening. 

The Great Hall was filled with chatter and excited students, seated in small groups, eagerly discussing what was to come. 

The Goblet of Fire was placed in the centre of the ample hall, illuminating its surroundings and wrapping everything in a soft blue glow. Only a few, dimly lit fire bowls dared to defy the total spread of the blue light.

Edwin shuffled through the anteroom of the Great Hall. The two sets of armour were bickering like an old married couple again, which never failed to make him laugh. 

This smile didn't stop when his mentor appeared next to him, entering the hall with him. 

“Mr. Woodruff, I haven’t seen you all week.”, his professor started the conversation, minding the formalities while others could hear them. 

“Yes, I was rather occupied with catching up and studying.”

“Catching up? In your first week?”, Fig frowned.

The brunette exhaled audibly.

“I have missed the first four years. Surely I can't have caught up on everything last year. Besides, it is never too early to start studying for the exams at the end of term.”

At this moment, Eleazar inspected his pupil closer. His tie was slightly loose, his robe rucked and brown strands of hair were the messy top of his chaotic sight. Blue eyes were barely visible behind dirty lenses, which haven’t been cleaned in some time. Almost as if the few seconds it would take to remove them, wipe them and put them back on couldn't be spared. 

Immediately, his mind associated the sight with a similar appearance he witnessed so many years ago. During the time of the N.E.W.T.s every student tends to be on the brink of throwing all books out of the top window of the astronomy tower and casting Confringo at them mid-fall, for good measure. Naturally, it was like that in his time as well. Eleazar's last months at Hogwarts revealed to him the true difference between his house and Miriam's. While all of his Gryffindor housemates were relatively at ease about the exams, Ravenclaw was on the edge of catastrophe, which hasn't changed to this day.  

He rarely saw Miriam in this time, and if they met up it was usually him searching for her in the library with her favourite sweets from Honeydukes in his pockets. 

And now? The same rucked robe, the same dishevelled uniform and dirty glasses stood right in front of him. 

“I see. I suppose you are definitely a Ravenclaw.”, he muttered, still deep in his line of thought.

Edwin pressed his mouth into a thin line and pointed at the emblem, shining on his chest.“My robes gave it away, didn’t they?”

Professor Fig rolled his eyes but smiled a little. “Stop it, you know exactly what I mean.”

Apparently, the dishevelled look also inflamed a sarcastic attitude in Ravenclaws.

The Magical Theory professor slowly began the question burning in the depths of his mind.

“Have you…?”

The younger wizard interrupted his unfinished question.

“Thrown in my name when no one was watching, overcome by the corruption of power and glory?”, he asked historically with raised eyebrows, immediately answering himself.

“No I didn't. The articles I found in the library were enough to convince me that this shouldn't be allowed in a school. Risking the death of students is utterly barbaric. And I thought muggles were cruel.”

Unknown to his protégé, he has troubled himself with the same thought. Wasn’t he, a professor, responsible for Edwin during the past year, and wasn’t he in mortal danger more than once? Nonetheless, Fig folded his hands and nodded along. 

“I am with you. I suppose the Ministry mitigated the tasks, due to the tournament's history.”

His pupil only hummed in agreement, his eyes already searching the hall.

“Edwin, Why don’t you come around to my office after the name selection? I'd like to hear more about your week.”, his mentor offered. Even if they would sit in silence, at least he would get the boy out of the library for some time. The reports of Hogwarts librarian Mrs. Scribner concluded that one student made the library his second home.

Said student hesitated.

“I … Of course.”

His mentor clasped his hands and gestured to the ceremony about to unfold. “Splendid. Now, you should find a seat, it's starting.”

They shared a smile and parted ways. Funnily enough, both of them received identical looks for being nearly too late. In Edwin's case, it was Natty, greeting him with a “Where have you been?”. A swift wand motion from her corrected his askew tie in its place. All of his classmates were sitting together, greeting him like he went missing for a week - which he kind of did to be honest.

Professor Fig was greeted similarly by Professor Weasley. The teachers stood in front of their usual table at the end of the hall, whispering to each other. One couldn’t miss the concerned look on Professor Weasley's face, keeping her eyes fixed on the spectacle. The fact that Black would have to hold another speech did nothing to calm her nerves.

All whispers vanished into thin air, making the anticipation almost tangible. Professor Black's tenor cut through it like a knife.

“Students, colleagues, other …guests. The moment we all have been waiting for is here. During the last week, those of you who are brave enough to commit themselves to challenging tasks and defiances for wit and character, threw their names into the Goblet of Fire. Today, the Goblet will choose those who are worthy enough to represent their school.”

A round of applause roared through the hall.

Black rolled his eyes, clearly bothered by the interruption and gesturing with his hands for silence.

“Now, I will read the names of the chosen Triwizard Champions and ask them to come forward.”

He took a step towards the stone Goblet and nervously patted it up and down.

“How - How do you provoke this thing?”

Sneering laughter could be heard through the hall, and after a few agonising seconds Mr. Osprey had mercy on the man. A white flare shot from his wand and ignited the flame even more. 

“Ah yes…”, Black stuttered, taking a step back.

Blue billows of fire and smoke danced through the hall, even drawing tiny silhouettes of fighting and flying wizards in the air, before crashing back into the Goblet, causing it to shoot a fireball and a piece of parchment towards the cloudy ceiling. Naturally, every student was in awe of the spectacle.

Burned parchment edges were followed by smoke while spiralling towards the ground. Or rather, towards the hand of Hogwarts headmaster.

After getting a firm grip on it, Black announced, “The Champion for Durmstrang is… Alfred Lundberg!”

Jubilance broke out, with the few students of Durmstrang cheering the loudest as their headmaster walked to the front, a student on his heels. 

Sturm was a tall man and intimidating to say the least. Dark blonde hair in combination with a full-grown beard antagonised the crimson red of his robes with a fur collar. But the most intense feature of his overawing appearance were his eyes. A scar chiselled its way from his jaw line to his left eye like a bolt of lightning striking its target. The result came in electric blue eyes, freezing their way into one's mind when being looked at.

However, everybody's attention on Sturm was shifted to the student emerging from the Durmstrang corner.

Even taller than his headmaster but sporting a similar hairstyle and beard, only in brown, Alfred Lundberg made the applause fade a bit. 

“Durmstrang has seven grades too, don't they?”, Edwin asked, gawking at the colossus of a teenager,

Sebastian was the first to recover from the sight.

“Basically, yes. Although he looks like he has three children and a senior position in the Ministry.”, he stated bluntly.

Edwin filled his cheeks with air, searching for words.

“I wouldn’t put it like that…”

Everett laughed, “You thought the same, Woodruff. Don’t get all friendly with us.”

The group watched Sturm rip the parchment out of Black's hands and stand proudly at the front, Alfred next to him. 

“Whoever has to compete against him, I wish them all the best.”, Natty remarked, looking pointedly at those who have thrown in their names. The majority of their class turned a few shades paler, but perhaps it was the cold light shining on their unamused faces.

The brouhaha from before repeated itself and spit out another piece of parchment in the shape of a butterfly. Gracefully, it slid down slightly flapping its paper wings, like a real specimen. Elegantly, it landed in the palm of Black's hand.

“Our second Champion, for Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, is…”

After an overdramatic pause, Black's ghastly French accent could be heard loud and clear. 

“ Ella- Ello…Élodie Dubois!”

Everyone started to clap and cheer, but the sound waves only reached Edwin in echoes, as if they had to pass a tunnel of a thousand yards. 

Surely she didn't. She didn't put her name into this competition, where students found their death to entertain this macabre concept. She doesn't have to compete against this behemoth from Durmstrang. She doesn't have to - not her… 

His shock took a second or two to diminish itself.

“Getting Soaked to the skin in the first week by Hogwarts and losing for the rest of the year to Durmstrang. That's rough.”, Everett mumbled, while everyone else cheered for the girl walking up to the front. 

Flooded with indignation, Natty turned around with puckered brows. 

“Everett! What a mean thing to say!”

While Everett defended himself by holding up his hands, his face drenched in innocence, Poppy began to smile. The young Hufflepuff was innately quiet and a bit withdrawn. However, the guests from France moved into the Hufflepuff quarters. Naturally, connections were made, late night talks took place and the same girl who was now a Triwizard Champion was the first to address Poppy. As it turns out, they share their fascination for magical beasts. Although their opinions differ regarding potions, they found common ground on beast class and built a beginning friendship upon it.

“I believe she will do splendidly.”, Edwin proclaimed, earning an approving nod and hum from Poppy.

Sebastian smiled mischievously as he regarded his friend closer, “Of course you do.”

The young Ravenclaw blushed, which hopefully wouldn't get noticed in the pale blue light, which encased their forms.

Imelda harshly hushed all of them,“Quite now, it's Hogwarts turn!”

The ambitious young witch obviously put her name in, like so many others. However, her hunger for competition surpassed those of her fellow students by far. The opprobrium last year, which was her losing the broom races all over the highlands, haven't curbed her combative spirit. On the contrary. As a Slytherin and high class Quidditch protégé, she had a reputation to uphold, and this certainly was her opportunity to prove herself.

Everett Clopton ignored Imelda's excitement, “Betting on you, Sebastian.”

Which caused the young witch to turn away from the group entirely.

One last time the Goblet erupted and pressed a still burning parchment into the air. The snippet floated into Black's hand, nearly burning his dearly beloved tailcoat.

“And finally, the last Champion and student to represent Hogwarts in the Triwizard Tournament is…”

A pleased smile spread on his features.

“Edwin Woodruff!”

A certain young wizard was unintentionally keeping his eyes too long on a certain Triwizard Champion from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic to realise what just happened. Every head in the room turned towards the Ravenclaw, including hers. Abashed by the sudden eye contact, he looked to the ground, but was jolted out of his embarrassment by a harsh push from Everett.

Natty clapped and cheerfully patted his shoulder,“Edwin!”

Confusion was written on his face like his name was, as plain as day on the parchment. “What?”

Blue eyes darted around the room, not registering the situation yet.

“You got chosen, moron.”, Everett stated.

Edwin could only shake his head,“But I did not-”

A slight shove against his back forced him to walk forward, “Move, Woodruff!”

Time was a funny business. Mere moments ago time seemed to slow down, when her name was pronounced and now? Within seconds, he passed through the crowd, eager to clarify this fundamental misunderstanding. He was focused on his mission to such an extent that he didn't notice the unbound support for him coming from every corner of the room. 

Rumours as well as actual proof of his skills have led to his reputation as a confidant in certain aspects. Rather, it was a family tomb he had to fight through to gather information or the overthrow of the most feared crime syndicate in the valley. Despite the collective unawareness of the students of him being responsible for Hogwarts persistence, to most of them he already was a capable wizard. Naturally, they cheered for their best prospect of victory.

In the meantime, Edwin was quick to correct Professor Black upon finally reaching him.

“Professor, there must be some sort of mistake. I never put my name -”

Black only smiled and waved him off, while grabbing him by the shoulders and positioning him next to Élodie. “All in due time. Now stand over there.”

“But-”, his protest, was cut off by Professor Black addressing the students and staff once more.

“Now, we have our three Champions. Over the next months they will use their wit, their courage and their magical abilities to fight for their schools… And glory, of course.”, he finished. While the crowd cheered, he handed the respective parchment to the other headmaster as well as the headmistress.

Cold sweat was forming on Edwin's whole body. His mind and body switched into a state of high alert. Something wasn't right, this felt all wrong. Why wouldn’t they simply listen to him?

In his panic, he searched for the person who could calm him the most, an anchor. After turning around to each side, he finally found Professor Fig and Professor Weasley, who already made their way towards him. Both looked just as perplexed and alerted as he felt right now. Upon locking eyes with his mentor, he could see fear in those old eyes, which have seen so much.

“Professor Weasley! I really didn’t put my name in there.”, Edwin cried out, glad that the older witch was here to help him untangle this mess.

The voice of Mr. Osprey resounded through the hall.“Hereby, I pronounce that the Triwizard Tournament has, after almost a hundred years, begun!”

Black stretched his right hand out for him to shake, while holding the parchment out in his other hand.

 “Congratulations!”, he pronounced smugly.

Edwin turned his gaze from Professor Weasley to his headmaster, looking into his complacent face, hidden behind a badly trimmed beard.

Edwin began another plea to Black's common sense and reached for the parchment without looking “Sir, this is a misunderstanding. I-”

Without premonition, the walls of the Great Hall began to fold in on themselves. Colours stretched into infinite lines of light, seemingly resonating from him. The world seemed to curve around itself, before going dark entirely.

Chapter Text

Chapter 15

Only moments ago, Professor Fig was fixated on the young witch Edwin told him about, watching her getting selected for this dubious competition. Unfortunately, the elation of the student body wasn't contagious enough to affect the teachers at the other end of the hall. Cheering and whistling could be heard through and through, but only a few claps came from the professors. 

True, none of them were present for the last Triwizard Tournament, but a hundred years are only a hundred years. A hundred years are only a few generations. And a few generations sometimes resemble a great-grandfather who tells his stories on Christmas day next to the fireplace.

With Professor Garlic being the exception, all of them knew about what happened. Obviously, the tournament was banned for good reason, but here they all stood, in front of a new glowing and polished Triwizard Cup, instead of a memorial built in remembrance of the lives lost.

Eleazar Fig couldn’t help but pity the greenness of the students, whose names were called out. The smiles on their faces wouldn’t last. 

His thoughts were also with Edwin. The boy obviously cared deeply for the girl, and seeing her getting selected was hard to watch, especially since he spent his past week studying the atrocities of previous tournaments.

“Edwin Woodruff!”

Ah yes, Edwin. No wait, Edwin?!

His eyes widened, his pulse sped up and was pumping in his ears to the rhythm of the thunderous applause. Reflexively, he grabbed Professor Weasley's arm.

“Matilda, he didn’t throw his name in!”, he said before his mind could fully register what was coming out of his mouth. 

Professor Weasley was equally shaken. “I know.”, she assured, her voice firm.

They made their way towards the front of the hall at the same time as Edwin made his way through the crowd. Cheering students called his name or padded his shoulder, but his face was the opposite of thrilled. His blue eyes seemed twice as big as he stared into a void. Eventually, those confused and troubled eyes landed on his professors.

“Professor Weasley! I really didn’t put my name in there.”, the young Ravenclaw said.

The red-headed witch opened her mouth to assure her student, but the voice of Mr. Osprey cut her off.

They continued to make their way towards Edwin, but only seconds before they reached his side, all three of the newly selected champions vanished before their eyes in a swirl of cloaks and light.

Mr. Osprey continued to explain what occurred, but Professor Weasley couldn’t care any less.

“Professor Black!”, she called out, her voice filled with rage and a fierce look which could peel paint from a wall.

However, her endeavours were in vain, for an explosion of clouds let anyone in the hall duck away. Apparently, Mr. Osprey announced this, because students began to chant the names of their champions right after. 

Both of them, Professor Fig and Professor Weasley, got startled by the sudden sound and movement of the ceiling. After a short shock, they followed their students' line of view and saw the three contestants as projections in the cloudy ceiling of the hall. Almost completely transparent, like ghosts, each of them had their own bubble. And right now they were falling from the sky, Merlin knows where.

“Godric's Heart!”, Fig muttered, clearly at a loss for words. Only a year ago, he fell from the sky like that, Edwin by his side. But now, the witty student he took under his wing was falling all by himself. This was madness.

“Oh no, no, no…”, he continued to mutter, for this could not be real. He must have dozed off in his armchair by the fireplace and this was a terrible dream, nothing more.

Professor Weasley clutched the red ribbon at her collar, obviously blind sided by the vision of three students falling from the clouds. But enough, was enough.

“Professor Black! Mr. Woodruff didn't put his name in. We are quite certain of it. This is unacceptable!”, she addressed the headmaster forthrightly, gesturing to the three children still falling from the sky.

With an eye roll, Professor Black turned towards his complaining deputy headmistress.

“Weasley, they are students.”, Black said with obviousness as if this would explain everything.

 “The boy probably lied to you. Of course, they take the chance to get some glory. At this age, they are unpredictable nitwits, after all.”

Without giving the witch a chance to contradict his daring thesis, Black turned towards the spectacle and engaged Mr. Osprey in a conversation.

A frustrated growl escaped Professor Weasley’s lips, “This …this man!”

She turned towards Fig to unload her rage, but found him staring at the ceiling. The Durmstrang champion was already slowing down his fall with a kind of glider emerging from the top of his wand. 

Edwin however was still plummeting just like Élodie. Both look like they weren’t quite conscious. Compassionately, Professor Weasley put a reassuring hand on Fig's shoulder.

“Don’t worry Eleazar. He has weathered worse, I'm certain.”

“But he shouldn't have to, Matilda!”, he insisted. How could this be the path life had chosen for such a young wizard.

The deputy headmistress nodded, her half-moon glasses sliding a bit down her nose.

“I know. I will talk to Mr. Osprey.”

“I will come with you.”, Professor Sharp expressed, having overheard the whole thing. His days at the Ministry might be over, but he may be damned if his career didn’t allow him to solemnly confront Ministry officials.

Professor Ronen clapped along with the students and appeared next to Professor Fig with a characteristic bounce in his step. “Eleazar! I say, with Mr. Woodruff as our champion, the Triwizard Cup will most definitely remain in our trophy chamber. If he can beat me at Summoner's Court, he will win this swiftly.”, he said happily.

“I'm afraid he isn't competing voluntarily, Abraham.”, Figs answer was monotone and only above a whisper.

“What?”, the usually cheerful features of Professor Ronen grew worried, as he looked upwards. As fast as his worried glare appeared, it was replaced by a serious face. Furrowed eyebrows and alert eyes assessed the situation. “Is this another attack on him?”

Professor Fig didn’t take his eyes off Edwin for one second. “I don't know, but I don't like it one bit.”

________________________________________________

His ears were ringing. His eyes were open, but his vision was blocked by a black fabric. His nose hurt. Why did it hurt?

His arms, no…his legs as well. His whole body was moving, but he couldn’t tell where. Cold air made him shiver all over.

Suddenly, his cloak blew into another direction and his vision was clear. Well, if one could call it clear. Thick clouds hung around him. Wait, clouds?!

He was falling. Oh Merlin, he is falling. 

His mind was flooded with the memory of his first dragon attack. A carriage getting ripped in half, George getting catapulted from his seat. And suddenly he was told to jump and was falling together with Professor Fig. 

Get a hold on yourself, Woodruff!

This chaotic waking from unconsciousness only took a few seconds, but to Edwin it felt like a slowed down hour.

Focus, Woodruff!

Alright, he was falling. 

How much time does he have to come up with a solution?

He is still in the clouds, so probably a few seconds at least.

How is he supposed to stop a fall?

A Portkey? It worked last time, but although a Portkey probably brought him here, he has nothing on him to whisk him away again.

Broom? He is probably not near Hogwarts and even if he were, it wouldn’t be here fast enough with Accio.

A spell? –

His thoughts were interrupted, as he broke through the clouds and saw the ground coming for him. Of course, no disproportionately huge and old castle in sight.

“Oh bloody hell!”, he rarely cussed, but this situation was admittedly unfortunate.

Where was he? In the sky? Isle of Skye? No, ah! A spell!

Think, Woodruff!

Glacius? No, he would fall with similar speed, only as a block of ice, and people would have to search for far too many pieces.

Levioso? But can he direct the spell at himself?

Arresto Momento? Maybe… maybe his best chance.

He grabbed his wand and pointed it at himself.

Despite the strong wind, which deformed his entire face, he called out with urgency.

“Arresto Momento!”

Fortunately, it worked and he stopped mid-air. The sudden break in his fall felt like running into a wall, and he wouldn’t be surprised if a few of his insides migrated elsewhere.

Great, now he was stopped mid-motion, but still hundreds of metres in the air. 

The right moment. He has to cast it at the exact moment, he could survive the fall afterwards. 

No pressure, Woodruff…

Slowly, he felt the invisible hold loosen up and without a warning he continued to fall.

His robes jittering behind him, he used his whole body to increase his air resistance, his limbs moving wildly in the process. 

Here he was, Edwin Woodruff, Hero of Hogwarts, Guardian of the Wizarding World, probably falling to his death looking like an enchanted scarecrow, when a bird attempted to land next to its pumpkin. 

“Arresto Momento!”

Once again it worked, and he was only a few metres above ground. Upon further inspection, he noticed a maze underneath him. And by Merlin, it was huge! He tried to look around as best he could, but his neck and head didn’t cooperate at all. All there was, were more hedges, more paths, but nothing special. Maybe if he could turn his head the other way? Oh, it's working -

Without much ado, he landed face first on the muddy ground. Surprisingly, he didn't feel any pain. No burning ache reaching through his entire body, from the top of his head to the strange birthmark on his right foot. Undoubtedly, it was the adrenaline rush, the pumping of his heart in his ears, which was overruling his pain. 

A low groan escaped him as he pushed himself up. A quick assessment told him that the important parts were still there. Head, arms, legs, fingers, wand…everything was at its proper place, more or less. His glasses? Once again, they were gone. Luckily, he took Professor Fig's advice and asked Professor Weasley how to conjure glasses.

A well-placed sway of his wand and a second of concentration were all it took to let new glasses appear on his nose. Admittedly, they weren’t as accurate as the ones his Professors created, but they would do for now. 

With an unobstructed view, he took in his surroundings. A soft wind blew through the hedges surrounding him and orchestrated leafy branches to rub against his shoulder. After this whole debacle, the touch of something else than wind grounded him. Only now he noticed how fast his breathing was. There is no dragon, and as far as he could tell, there’s no imminent fight about to open up hell underneath his feet. There is only a mixture of mud and grass, making the ground slippery. Unlike the headwind he experienced earlier, the soft gusts hitting him now were more gentle, bearing a certain odour like an owl delivering a message. Edwin knew the scent too well. He flew above the Glacmar Coast often enough to recognize the distinguished smell of the sea. While raising his head towards the sky to fully breath In the salty air, he slowly opened his eyes. The night was about to take over. The last shimmers of a lighter blue were already vanishing.

His attempt to clear his head was rudely interrupted by a piece of paper appearing with a sudden ‘blop’ in his closed fist. Upon opening it, he discovered the very piece of parchment which flew out of the goblet and unleashed this unhoped-for fiasco. He must have let go of it mid-fall, but the dastardly, filthy thing must be bewitched to find its way back into his hands. And sure enough, his name was written on it. 

‘Edwin Woodruff’ was smeared all over it in a hand unknown to him. The blue ink was flowing over the paper, and a few letters resembled his own writing to a certain extent. Surely, it was no coincidence that the same curvature he uses when writing the capital ‘W’ of his last name was there as well, blue on dirty white. Whoever wrote it had a sample of his writing. He crumpled the paper up once again, driven by sheer frustration.

This fiendish piece of vellum! This traitorous, fictitious -

His building rage was halted by the paper fighting its way out of his closed fist and giving off tiny sparks in the process. The young Ravenclaw watched the play with a pensive expression and furrowed brows. 

Flying through the air like a butterfly, the piece of parchment transformed with a final phut.

A blue letter appeared before him bearing the Hogwarts emblem. Unfortunately, it was no ordinary letter. No, it was one of these aggravating envelopes which mimics the voice of whoever has written it. 

Edwin had witnessed what the recipient of such a letter had to endure more often than not. How often was he wandering through the halls of Hogwarts or chasing a flying page only to be distracted by a student getting yelled at by a letter with the voice of a mother, telling him or her off for declining grades. He has to ask Professor Fig, one day, if these things have a name and who would come up with such an invention in the first place. He didn’t mind the entertainment one bit, when witnessing it happening to other students, but he wasn't too keen to experience it first hand.

Nevertheless, the raspy voice of an old man began to ring out and the envelope moved In synch.

“Congratulations! Among all aspirants of your school, you are the one chosen to compete as a Triwizard Champion! This path to honour and glory is a long and dangerous one, and your skills and intuition have to guide you. Rise up to the challenge, because your very character will be put to the test, so don't lose yourself in the process!”, Edwin listened intently. 

“Which brings us to your first task. Find your way back home. However you manage it, is your mystery to unravel. But let me tell you this: in the centre of this maze may be a friend who is willing to elevate your perspective. Reach Hogwarts before the sun rises in the east, and the first to enter the Great Hall wins this first task. May your wit, courage and ambition let you soar to new heights! Good luck.”, the voice said cheerfully, as if this was just another invitation for tea and lemon biscuits.

Eventually, the envelope initialised its self-destructive fragmentation and fell onto the muddy ground like confetti.

“There goes my only evidence.”, Edwin muttered while watching the parchment, which no longer looked like the original, fell into sludge.

For a few seconds there was silence, until there wasn't. Laughter filled the maze. Unshackled laughter, which bordered on lunacy, echoed through the hedges and mild evening air.

After a few liberating moments, Edwin put the back of his hand against his forehead and propped his other hand on his hip. 

“Ha, if anyone can hear me and still cares. I didn't put my name into that blasted goblet.”, he said with a smile. It wasn’t the kind of smile one would receive when the situation was wholesome or funny or in any kind calling for joy. No, it was the kind of smile one would put on as a facade, because the day went downhill to such an extent, that the only sounds coming out of one's mouth would be frustrated screams, permanently. In conclusion, one should keep their lips sealed, and the ends curled upwards.

This was simply another trial, and Merlin knows he had enough of them to pay attention to the details. Admittedly, a Graphorn the size of a country house wasn’t a detail, but he had plenty of challenges last year, and they were more dangerous than simply flying back to Hogwarts.

At this point, the young Ravenclaw accepted that trials were his new normal, if only for the night. He could rant and complain all day, but preferably at Hogwarts and not in a muddy maze on some unknown shore. 

He sighed, before recollecting the hints of the letter. 

Without a doubt, the ‘friend who is willing to elevate your perspective’ had to be a broom, probably his own broom. Additionally, the sky above him was clear and he could see enough stars to navigate. There was no way in hell that he would get thrown into this tournament, literally, and wander through an enchanted maze at night all within a few minutes.

With his hands on his hips and a last heavy sigh, Edwin looked up, straightened his robe somewhat and pushed his new glasses higher up his nose.

“Let's get this over with.”, he told himself. If no-one wants to listen to him, then he simply would have to take up soliloquies. 

The young wizard put up his right hand, closed his eyes and turned his body for a few degrees, before he was satisfied with the angle. Ultimately, a true smile crept onto his face, as he sensed the presence of an old friend. Small bolts of blue lightning connected in his palm, as if they were charging it up. Blue eyes were focused on the hedge before them and they began to glow in electric blue as well.

“Accio, Night Dancer!”, Edwin said without raising his wand. Countless battles in the Forbidden Forest led to him discovering that sometimes there wasn't enough time to use a wand to get to his broom.

After a few seconds only filled with the sound of wind ruffling through leaves, an unnatural rustling came closer and closer. 

One last adjustment of his hand and the hedge in front of him parted, and his palm was hit by solid wood.

Chapter Text

Chapter 16

From above, the maze was just as vast as he guessed from his first look mid-air. Were they all in the same maze? If Élodie and the giant from Durmstrang had the same fate, which they probably had, then they must be here somewhere. Alive or…

Edwin's expression grew worried. Of course, he doesn’t know Élodie as well as he would like to, but he wondered why she would participate in this, voluntarily. During that short potions class, she seemed intelligent and skilled enough, but he couldn’t stop himself from wondering.

Suddenly, flames as high as the hedges were blazing up in the distance, illuminating the growing darkness. They burned their way towards the centre without regard for the existing paths, like a force of nature. Except, this fire was far from natural. 

“Lundberg…”, Edwin muttered to himself, watching the spectacle for a few more minutes.

Still, there was no sign of Élodie. 

‘She's probably on her way to Hogwarts already’, the young wizard thought.

His look turned towards the stars. Edwin has watched the night sky often enough to navigate safely with Sirius and Cassiopeia as his helmsmen. However, before he spends half of the night flying slightly off-course, he wants to be sure. With a flick of his robe, his journal appeared in his hands. Professor Weasley and Professor Fig knew what they were doing, when they enchanted the map. Obviously, the first few days at Hogwarts were confusing to navigate without help, and he is certain that he would have stumbled head first into the majority of box rooms the castle had, without the sentient piece of golden paper catapulting itself out of his book, whenever he used the map. It took him a few weeks to realise that even in the Highlands the charm worked perfectly.

Therefore, Edwin touched Hogwarts on the map with the tip of his wand, and the golden pages flew into the same direction he had already guessed.

“Splendid.”, the young wizard said, snapping the book shut and taking off, leaving the labyrinth behind him.

At first, the flight was quite relaxing, actually. Mellow white light from the rising half moon wrapped the country beneath him in a nightly atmosphere. Silently flying over the fields of England and Scotland at night, unnoticed by the world, was a welcoming escape from his other extracurricular activities. However, he still didn't know where exactly he began his unlooked-for journey, and thus couldn’t tell how long the flight would take. 

Unfortunately, the situation changed when a tower of clouds grew into the atmosphere. Within minutes, lightning began to illuminate the dynamic structure within his flight path. Once again, this was far from natural. The speed and the accuracy of the structure were too convenient to be a coincidence. Ultimately, it simply emphasised his suspicion that someone had to be watching.

Without thinking, Edwin flew with full speed into the storm. Raindrops were hitting him with their combined forces. Together with the strong wind, they almost managed to bungle his balance, but his grip remained firm. Of course, this wasn’t his first thunderstorm, but something felt different. The thought of being watched was nibbling on his subconsciousness, and he began to look over his shoulders frequently. The air was significantly colder than before and the rain soaked him to the bones, but still he could feel himself sweating from sheer discomfort.

A hasty look over his right shoulder was too short, because there definitely was something. Before Edwin could look again, there was nothing behind him but clouds. His vision depended on the occasional pulsating of lightning illuminated his surroundings only for a few seconds, besides that it was a blind flight. 

Thunder combined with ear-splitting winds made his senses go haywire. His breathing sped up, as there was still no way out in sight. Desperately, he yanked his broom upwards in an attempt to break through the clouds, but there was no way to escape, and it felt like another maze. Whoever created this had a goal, and they were successful, if they wanted to see him held captive by weather.

Another lightning strike charged up the air and made his hair stand up. Right there! There! The shapes from earlier appeared again in the electric light. Of course, the clouds and shadows were playing tricks on him, but this looked different. A diaphanous black silk cloth, which was thrown in the air and danced through the wind, was probably the best description he had for what he saw. However, in the few seconds he saw it, its motions weren’t random, they almost seemed sentient. 

Since he stepped into this bizarre world, he encountered sentient brooms, tea pods with an attitude and violent books. Sentient clothes weren’t impossible after all, but in the middle of a staged thunderstorm? Unlikely.

He saw it one last time before he broke through the clouds and staggered a bit with his broom. Merlin, this felt like an eternity.

With heavy breaths, he looked back at the storm still thundering away. But what was in front of him made him cheer within. Hogwarts. 

_________________________________

“Mr. Osprey, I have to protest. Mr. Woodruff didn't put his name into the goblet and wasn’t willing to participate.”, Professor Weasley was fuming with disapproval as she stepped up to Mr. Osprey, Professor Sharp coming up behind her.

Mr. Osprey turned his gaze away from the three projections in the cloudy ceiling.  “As far as I can tell, his name was chosen by the goblet, so someone must have thrown it in.”, he offered diplomatically.

The deputy headmistress gestured to her student, who just fell face first into mud. “And this ‘someone' wasn’t Mr. Woodruff.”

Upon Edwins safe landing, several people released a breath of relief. Cheering echoed through the hall once more. Even Professor Sharp relaxed slightly, when his student no longer fell towards solid ground.

The adults in the room were as captivated by the events as their students, their eyes glued to the transparent figure of Edwin, taking a breath. The young Ravenclaw also moved his mouth, but no words, no sound at all could be heard. 

Again, Mr. Osprey turned towards Professor Weasley continuing their conversation, “How can you be certain of that? At this age some students are unpredictable.” Simultaneously, Edwin caught his broom in his hand without a wand, which led to a surprised and speechless crowd. Wandless magic might be a common sight in Uagadou, but in the misty glens surrounding Hogwarts and Britain in general it was peculiar. 

Students began to clap and shout Edwins name, when he was the first to take off from the three champions. Others whispered and were unsure what to make of the display. Yet, Natty could only smile weakly. She knew herself how some wizards frowned upon this kind of magic, even in the year 1891. Often it was falsely being related to an impure blood status, due to the popular belief that pure blooded witches and wizards were using wands as a status symbol early on and only those who were impure or poor would resort to this soiled kind of magic. Of course, it was widely refuted as of today, but some long-established pure blood families still held on to this fairytail of supremacy. What else could they do? Admit that wandless magic was indeed more challenging than regular spell casting? Only over the cursed tombs of their thousand year old family history.

But now, Natty could hear the whispers again, the questions, the uncertainty. All of this hit her like a déjà-vu. The first time she used wandless magic at Hogwarts was unfortunately witnessed by Black and therefore strictly forbidden. The following weeks were filled with groups of students whispering and giggling behind her back. Ultimately she gained respect by showing off her skills with a wand in classes and duels, but the path was long, and the whispers were unforgettable.

However, Edwin using wandless magic effortlessly and openly? Either he didn’t know any better or he simply didn’t care, and both possibilities led to a Triwizard Champion representing her original form of magic, and she couldn’t be more proud of her friend.

Meanwhile, Professor Sharp was pulled out of his surprise as his mind registered what the energetic Ministry official had said.

“Unpredictable… You know what’s predictable? The Ministry endangering young wizards and public safety. Again.”

Professor Weasley's eyes widened, as her head snapped back to the potions master.

“Aesop…”, she mumbled, trying to communicate with looks, but they were dripping off of him like water off a duck.

Mr. Osprey pulled his hands out of his long brown coat and crossed his arms in front of his chest, his face a mask, not giving away too much. “Mr. Sharp, I'm aware your relation to the Ministry is rather tense, but even you must realise that my hands are tied. Every student who gets chosen, engages in a contract with the goblet. If his name gets spit out of this flame, he has no choice.”, he explained, slightly bobbing in one place.

Professor Sharp mirrored Ospreys emotionless expression, with a breeze of rancour.

Without an invitation, Headmaster Black threw his unnecessary opinion into the conversation, “Well, rules exist for a reason. No need to dwell on them now. Especially, when Mr. Woodruff is leading the race.”

Before Professor Weasley got the opportunity to say a word she might regret later on, the firm voice of Professor Fig cut in. The older wizard stood a few feet behind them, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, but his ears were focused on the conversation.

“Even against his will?”, Fig asked, without looking at the Ministry official.

Hogwarts’ potion master continued the flow of questions and accusations. 

“How valid can a contract be if one party participates against their will? I would have hoped that the enchantment surrounding such an occasion wouldn’t be as outdated as its tradition. The right Aurors would agree that this borders on the endangerment of underaged wizards.”

Mr. Osprey put on a cynical smile, while fully turning to face the former Auror. 

“The right Aurors? And who would that be? Your partner?”

Professor Sharp's face fell and he balled his hands to fists, clearly restraining himself from attacking the man.

Madame Courtois, headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic hurried over, still casting glances over her shoulder to check on her student.

“What is going on?”, she asked in a thick French accent.

Although the middle-aged witch was at least a head shorter than everyone else, her presence was demanding. High heels elevated her into the range of an average height, and the shimmering teal peacock feathers, which were woven into her put-up hairdo, contributed to the cause. In addition to that her wardrobe was generally ostentatious. Her shiny satin dress enframed her slim body like a blue cocoon. Floating around her shoulder was a bushy, brown pelt, but what poor creature it once was couldn’t be made out. Above said pelt was her face, held high. A relatively young face with crimson lips and keen green eyes was betrayed by grey linings in otherwise piceous hair. But those green eyes, those eyes were like gems, sparkling like stars, and all the accessories jewelled with emeralds simply couldn’t compete.

Despite her pompous appearance, her voice was truly filled with concern, and her eyes conveyed the same message. Her young charge barely survived the fall, afterall. 

Matilda Weasley eventually filled her in, “Our champion didn't throw in his name. Someone manipulated the tournament.”

Madame Courtois' eyes widened and her exuberant maquillage eyebrows furrowed. “Are you saying the poor child got thrown into this? Mon Dieu!” The short woman clutched her necklace and turned her gaze towards the three students, visible above them.

Oscar Sturm took the opportunity to express his opinion as well, having followed the conversation discreetly. “This isn’t right, you know. If the boy didn't want to.”, his deep tenor stated.

The argument continued for some time, but Eleazar Fig couldn’t bother to listen. Naturally the Ministry would enforce its decision and all they could do would be to watch, like he did right now.

Eventually he sat down on a bench from one of the four house tables and watched along with his students. The display of powerful Confringo and Incendio spells used by the Durmstrang champion caught the attention of everyone, rightfully so. Meanwhile, Élodie struggled to find a way through the maze, still dazed by her collision with one of the hedges. Her actions seemed desperate as she hectically moved through the labyrinth.

Fig couldn’t help but feel for the girl. After Edwin's unexpected participation, was she even a volunteer for this madness? 

The first students were leaving to get to bed at this point and the Great Hall became quieter. It was close to midnight and some students were exhausted from their first week, or already had other plans for their first weekend of the term.

His eyes wandered once more to Edwins bubble. His young protégé was already in flight for some time and even the limited vision one has as a spectator was enough to recognize the structures of a storm forming in his path. 

“He didn’t use a wand.”, Professor Weasley stated, sitting down next to him, smoothing her dress in the process. Like him, she escaped the antics of a Ministry official and Professor Black. 

Fig smiled, “No, he didn’t. I wasn’t aware he could do that.”, a short laugh escaped him.

The deputy headmistress nodded, “His magical abilities are as astonishing as you always told me.”

Professor Fig exhaled slowly, “Sometimes I wonder what he will accomplish next, what he will be able to do with this gift. His powers grow with each day, but his responsibilities as well.”

Sensing the turmoil of her colleague, Professor Weasley softly answered, “This can be frightening, even for the most equilibrated mind. Guidance is of the essence, and I'm glad he found the best.”, she shared a smile with him.

“You flatter me Matilda, but I'm at wit's end. How can I guide him, teach him, when I don't understand his abilities myself? I promised him no more trials this year, and now he is flying through a thunderstorm in the middle of the night in a race back home. And Merlin knows what's still to come.”, he sighed.

Together they flinched as a huge bolt of lightning missed their student only by the length a Diricawl could apparate.

Finding the right words is challenging to say the least, and Professor Weasley was infamous for accomplishing just that with ease. But right now, she couldn’t think of a single word. Eleazar spent a whole year trying to understand the situation at hand and she wasn’t in possession of all the facts to this day. The full scale of Edwins powers is still unknown to them and perhaps even to him. 

“What was that?”, Professor Figs voice cut off her thoughts.

“What?, she asked bluntly, her senses focused on the bubble floating above them.

The older wizard squinted his eyes, “Behind him. During the lightning strike I thought I saw…”

“Eleazar, what did you see?”, she pressed on, but her colleague was entirely focused.

Finally she decided, “Enough is enough. Mr. Osprey!”

Quick steps brought her directly to the Ministry official who was no longer besieged.

He closed his eyes and sighed, “Professor Weasley, I can't take him out of the competition. Unfortunately, there is no law, no mercy rule which applies to this situation.”

Professor Weasley adjusted her glasses. “Then I will have to write to Mr. Spavin himself! We made it our duty to protect these students.”, she hissed.

A smug smile appeared on his charismatic face. “Certainly, but this one particularly, isn’t that so?”

A bewildered look grew on the deputy headmistress’ features, “I don't know what you could possibly mean. But right now you, Mr. Osprey, are quite hubristic, considering you never were a professor.” If looks could penetrate organic matter, his head would have had breathing holes.

All of a sudden, cheering filled the room and the remaining students in the Great Hall rose to their feet.

The huge doors to the hall flew open and Edwin landed rather clumsy, wand and broom still in hand. His soaking wet form, led to a puddle appearing almost immediately under his feet. Awkwardly, he tried to shake a bit of water out of his robe and sleeves, while fireworks in the established Ravenclaw colours filled the ceiling.

Despite the wet clothes and ragged appearance, he was picked up by his fellow students and his name was shanted once more. Edwin only put on a small smile and was already searching for the adults in the room, ready to solve this dilemma. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 17

“Well done, my friend!”, Natty exclaimed with a bright smile, cheering for Edwin.

Garreth and Everett hoisted Edwin onto their shoulders with help from the crowd, and his name was ringing through the Great Hall. 

Naturally, the students of Durmstrang and Beauxbaton didn’t join the jubilant celebration of Hogwarts’ victory, but a few girls smiled shyly and clapped, nonetheless.

The professors also offered varying degrees of applause, accompanied by smiles that ranged from polite to genuinely pleased. However, the joy of the moment was tinged with the awareness of an underlying scandal.

However, before Edwin could make his way towards his professors, he was grabbed by the arm and put between Headmaster Black and Mr. Osprey, who guided him towards the inconspicuous door in the right wing of the Great Hall.

He had never entered this room before, and until this moment he didn’t even realize there was a room. However, right now his mind was elsewhere, preoccupied not with the urge to unveil the entire layout of the castle, but with the cold seeping through his soaked clothes, as the night air had chilled him to the bone.

Soaked clothing combined with cold night air slapping him for far too long took its toll.

Thankfully, a fire was burning and illuminating the room in a soft glow, revealing the numerous paintings covering the high walls all the way up to the beautiful cupola. Apparently, the noise from the hall has disturbed the inhabitants of these paintings. Interested witches and wizards were spying down on the group, some whispering and pointing.

But currently, he couldn’t care less. Under different circumstances, he would have loved to greet them, have a chat with them, and learn about their past. Most of the portraits in Hogwarts were awfully nice and former students, who enjoyed passing on their experiences to cause mischief. 

Once inside the room, he immediately sat down before the fire, desperately trying to warm up.

“Congratulations, Mr. Woodruff! You came in first and therefore claim the first place in this task.”, Mr. Osprey said, holding out his hand for Edwin to shake. 

The young Ravenclaw hesitantly took it, considering what happened last time he shook someone's hand.

“Thank you, sir.”, he pressed through slightly chattering teeth.

“But I already told you I didn't throw my name in. Can’t I just…drop out? The Goblet can name a new champion for Hogwarts.”, Edwin offered as a solution. 

Headmaster Black stepped forward, with his arms behind his back and head held high.

“Mr. Woodruff, I believe you don’t understand the honour that has been bestowed upon you. You are now in a binding contract with the Goblet, the tournament itself. You can’t simply ‘drop out’.”, he snorted in a creepy way, partly laughing about such a bold assumption.

Edwin could only stare back at the man.

Mr. Osprey spoke up,“I'm afraid Headmaster Black is right. The magic surrounding this tournament can’t be broken.” The Ministry official regarded the young wizard, grabbing the backrest of the armchair between them.

Edwin already began to shake his head while Mr. Osprey was speaking.

“Well, obviously it can, or otherwise I wouldn’t have been chosen. Someone tampered with the Goblet to put my name in!"

Black only waved his hand around in an attempt to push the banalities aside.

“Formalities, formalities. In the end, you secured a win, and I'm sure you will do so in the following tasks as well, Woodruff.”

Edwin opened his mouth to answer, but Black was already heading to the door with Mr. Osprey in tow.

 “Now, if you would excuse us, the others will arrive soon.”

And with that said, the wooden door was shut.

He continued to just sit there in front of the crackling fire, imbibing all the heat, after nearly freezing on his broom. Ever since he stumbled into this world, he was hit by one life-threatening situation after the other. Perhaps it was time to accept his fate and enjoy the ingle. After all, the dancing flames were calming, almost hypnotic. But even with his eyes closed, he could imagine the movement blaze sizzling away.

“Edwin! Are you alright?”, the voice of his mentor, led him to open his eyes again. He didn’t even hear the man enter. As he turned around, he saw Professor Weasley behind him, and both of his teachers worriedly looked at him. He must be quite the sight to behold with his huddled form on the carpet, already sitting in a puddle from his drenched clothes.

He smiled reassuringly, “I'm fine, professor. A bit soaked perhaps, but…”

Before he could continue, Professor Weasley drew her wand, “ Exaresco. That should be better.”

A stiff breeze seemed to dry out the surrounding air, filling his personal space with warmth. It felt like the first cup of hot chocolate, after crossing the snow-covered valley on a starlit night.

He let himself slump into the cosy feeling. “Oh, I'll have to learn this one.”, he said, eyes once again closed.

Professor Weasley sat down in a nearby chair, clutching her wand. “Mr. Woodruff, I am so sorry. A student who hasn’t thrown in his own name shouldn't have been pushed into the tournament like this, or even been selected in the first place.“, her gaze was almost maternal as she took in his miserable position on the floor.

He waved off her concerns. Unlike the trials last term, he wasn't physically harmed.

“It's alright.”

But his mentor spoke up, stopping his pacing behind Professor Weasley. “Edwin, it really isn't.”

Now, the Ravenclaw fully turned around to face his professors, “But it is. Headmaster Black and Mr. Osprey told me about this magical contract situation. I'm bound to participate, am I not?”

Professor Weasley sighed, but he continued, “It's like my trials last year. Except, I don't have to do anything. There is no raging goblin on the other side or a syndicate out for death. I won't die if I simply do...nothing.”

Professor Fig stopped his pacing and Professor Weasley started to blink repeatedly. Both teachers shared a look. “That's … That is one way to handle things.”, Fig eventually said.

The deputy headmistress tilted her head, “I won't disapprove. After all, this whole ordeal isn't exactly following a protocol. It is your well-being, and we must protect it.”, she insisted.

The corners of Edwin's mouth curled upwards as he nodded. It would seem, they reached a mutual understanding. Even the portraits out for gossip nodded along, clearly supporting his plan.

Suddenly, the relative silence was interrupted by cheering coming from beyond the old oak door. 

Edwin rose to his feet, carefully using the chair, Professor Weasley was sitting in, to support himself. Without a thought, she took his arm and helped him, earning a grateful look from her student.

The door squeaked as it opened, and Mr. Osprey and Headmaster Black ushered the two remaining champions in, like they did a minute earlier with him. Both of them were soaked to the bone as well, and they had lips as blue as Ravenclaw's colours.

“Out of the way, out of the way!”, Black barked at the students outside.

Clearly shaken by the appearance of her pupil, Madame Courtois’ hands hovered over the shoulders of Élodie as if she was too afraid to touch her. “Mon Dieu.”

Alfred received a hearty clap on the back from his headmaster and a nod of approval.

Mr. Osprey was about to begin his little speech, as he already stood in front of the small group, but was interrupted by Professor Weasley, who cleared her throat and repeated the Exaresco spell on the other students to save them from certain death through hypothermia.

The immediate relief was clearly visible on their faces, as they thanked the deputy headmistress, as they bowed their shivering heads.

Mr. Osprey straightened his coat and nodded while waiting for them to acclimatise.

Eventually he began, “Now, that you all finished this first task, I want to congratulate you, standing here as Triwizard Champions! You overcame this first trial superbly. In each task, you’ll be ranked according to your performance.", he explained diligently.

“Tonight, Mr. Woodruff secured the first place, showing off his talents with Arresto Momento and the bond to his broom.”

From behind, Professor Fig proudly patted his shoulder, which educed a smile from Edwin.

Mr. Osprey’s attention was drawn to Durmstrang’s constant, “Also skilled with the broom but also with various fire spells was Mr. Lundberg, second place.” 

Alfred kept a straight face and only gave a short nod.

 Mr. Osprey clearly was a bit puzzled by the lack of reaction and turned towards Élodie and Madame Courtois,“Mademoiselle Dubois proved herself to be imaginative in dire situations, third place.”

The headmistress from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic applauded her young charge with a dainty, barely noticeable movement of her hands.

Black took three steps so he could stand next to Mr. Osprey. His posture straightened, and he probably stood on his tiptoes in order to appear a few centimetres taller than the Ministry official.

He hummed before coming straight to the point, not bothering to congratulate anyone, “It is way past curfew, and I suggest you three head to your dormitories. Tomorrow is the last day of the weekend, and we don't want you to be unprepared for Monday's lessons.”

Nobody moved at his words, and confused looks came his way.

"I said, I suggest you three head back to your dormitories.”, he repeated imploringly.

Bewildered students slowly began to leave the room. The headmasters and headmistress stayed behind. As Professor Fig made a move to speak to Edwin again, he was rudely interrupted.

“Fig, Weasley, a word.”, Black instructed.

Edwin was torn between leaving and waiting for his mentor to be finished with whatever unpleasant conversation their illustrious headmaster would torture him with.

Professor Fig gestured towards him to follow his peers.

“We will catch up tomorrow.”, he whispered.

Their gazes met one last time, before the door cut off their eye contact.

Surprisingly, the Great Hall was already empty, but then again it was way past midnight and most students were already tired from a free day filled with mischief, the usual house gossip and potion homework. 

After this astonishingly straight forward task, he couldn’t wait for his head to hit a pillow. 

Edwin closed the distance to his fellow Triwizard Champions with quick steps, as they reached the corridor leading to the Great Staircase.

“That was quite something.”, Alfred began in his northern accent. 

Élodie pulled her robe tight around her body and buried her face into it.

“Oui.”, she mumbled.

Alfred nodded and let silence fall upon them before starting again, “Now that we are all in the same boat, perhaps we could get to know each other.”

Edwin, who watched Élodie since he joined both of them, looked at Alfred with surprise twinkling in his eyes, “Uhm, yes. I'd like that.”

He couldn’t put his finger on it, but somehow he didn’t expect Alfred to be like …this. Welcoming, having an almost suave manner.

Alfred nodded and straightened a bit, his red robe wafting a bit in the process, “But not tonight. We really should get some sleep. See you tomorrow.”, he said before leaving with a nod. 

He could talk. Edwin assumed his only way of communication was a series of different nods, but here he was, disabused.

His eyes lingered on Alfred's broad form striding down the hall too long, because he didn’t notice Élodie leaving his side.

“Bonne nuit.”, she mumbled, before quickly hurrying towards the circular stair leading to the Hufflepuff common room. 

Merlin, he wanted to call after her and see her eyes one more time before dreaming of them all night, but he stopped himself and settled on a simple “Goodnight”. 

Slowly he began his long walk to Ravenclaw Tower through the deserted halls. Occasionally ghosts flew past him, duelling. But he was no stranger to these sudden fights above his head, he wandered those corridors often enough after curfew. However, he was immensely grateful that Peeves was probably doing whatever it is he does at his favourite toilette and not around him.

The recent events filled his head, while he navigated through the empty school. A portkey, a free fall, a maze and then a race through roaring thunder. Yet, what surprised him the most was how forthcoming Alfred was and that the three of them obviously would pull through this together. Apparently, Professor Fig was right. Whatever mess he found himself in, he wasn't alone.

_________________________

When he reached the Ravenclaw Tower and solved another riddle, which was inspired by his eventful day, he was glad no one waited for him. By Merlin, he couldn’t take another student cheering for him, for this dilemma. Of course, no one was waiting for him, he rarely came back to the dorm before curfew, if he even came back at all. Some nights, the soft green grass of his vivarium was more comfortable than any bed, and the chirping of the birds was calmer than any silence could ever be. But some night, he simply fell asleep while his head hit the solid desk in the library. However, tonight he was longing for a pillow filled with soft feathers and a proper blanket.

_________________________

Sunday. A strange day caught between two parts of one's week. Technically, it was still part of the weekend, but the enthusiasm was partly overshadowed by the looming threat which was Monday. Which meant lessons, which meant homework was due, which meant waking up with the sun. Obviously, the main objective each week is to maximise the carefree weekend part and ban the thoughts of homework and exams to the deepest pit in one's subconsciousness.

How is it done? A question often asked by first years and answered by older students with one word. 

Hogsmeade. 

A leisurely stroll to the quaint village, with its crooked houses and self-trimming hedges, was the perfect start for a Sunday. The rest of the day would be filled with Honeydukes' heavenly sweets and Zonko’s devilish new inventions to cause havoc. 

To put the imaginary cherry on top of this Hogsmeade experience, one has to stop at Sirona's to grab Butterbeer. Even teachers frequented this homey pub, with a private room just for them. 

However, for those seeking a more interesting end to the day, the path led away from The Three Broomsticks, down a narrow alley to the Hog’s Head pub. Less inviting and not as spacious, the Hog's Head had a new attraction—a portrait that had previously driven customers away from The Three Broomsticks. Now, it was drawing students and villagers alike, who seemed to enjoy the added flavour that posh English rants brought to their Butterbeer.

All of this assured one fact. On Sundays, Hogwarts was practically empty. Deserted, abandoned, devoid of life, vacuous.

Admittedly, it wasn’t as drastic as all that, but after breakfast, the castle was eerily quiet, with hardly a student or professor in sight. Only Mr. Moon was regularly seen on Sundays performing some maintenance work on the old heap of stones, they all called a home. 

The key phrase, however, was ‘before breakfast’.

At that moment, hundreds of students were in the midst of their morning meal, with a few still trailing in, rubbing the last traces of sleep from their eyes, and they continued to rub their eyes when they sat down. The crewets with Diricawl-shaped lids were shaking slightly, which caused the lids to disappear and reappear repeatedly. Upon further inspection, the glasses and cups lining up the tables succumbed to the same fate. The tea, juice and water filling them up were swaying and nearly slopping out of them, daring to soil the tablecloths. Students began to whisper, and it didn’t take long before rumours began to circulate. This happened before, and last time they were ushered back to their dormitories, while professors hurriedly passed them by. Although, this time, the shaking and slight vibrations penetrating solid stone were not as frequent or intense. But it was enough for Professor Weasley to reassure them everything was fine, before eloquently avoiding further questions and leaving the hall. 

Naturally, the early morning disturbance didn’t go unnoticed by Professor Fig. After the few hours of sleep he got, he was woken up by the slight movement coming from beneath. Instantly his mind raced to the repository, and the battle they were dragged into. 

He moved as fast as his old bones would allow early in the day and rushed through the halls. Even after years of being married to an early riser, he never could bring himself to go to bed early enough. The night was simply too peaceful to read. Professor Weasley on the other hand was usually at breakfast at this time. He wondered if the witch ever got a good night's sleep with all the work she got. But right now, he hoped more than anything that she was collected enough to deal with whatever was going on.

But as he hurried along, he started to calm and slow down a bit. The shaking wasn’t permanent, and it didn’t feel mechanical at all. Explaining why would be impossible, perhaps it was a gut instinct, because he couldn't shake off the feeling that nothing was seriously wrong. In his head, Miriam was laughing at him, telling him this ‘gut instinct’ was presumably just the result of no proper dinner. After all, Edwin would have reached out if something was afoot, right?

Upon arriving at the Great Hall, he nearly collided with Professor Weasley, storming out of the hall.

“Eleazar! Godric's Heart, do you know what this could be? Is it another attack? Have you seen Edwin?”, she was clearly filled with trepidation, as she worriedly flooded him with questions.

Professor Fig gave her his most reassuring smile and folded his hands in front of him.

“I don't know what is going on either, and no, I haven’t seen Edwin, yet. But I somehow doubt it is another attack.”, he tried to reassure her.

The deputy headmistress adjusted her half-moon spectacles and furrowed her brow.

“How can you be sure?”, she questioned him.

He shrugged with his shoulders, “I'm not. But Edwin would have reached out by now if something was truly amiss.” At least, he hoped that he would.

The older wizard continued, while Professor Weasley was in thought.

“I will make my way down to the Map Chamber this instant.”

The transfiguration professor slowly nodded along.

“Alright, I trust you to assess the situation, Eleazar.”, she said, giving him a sharp, scrutinising look.

Already on his way, he was interrupted by Professor Weasley's voice again. 

“And don't you dare hesitate to get help, Eleazar.”, she insisted, pointing at him, as if she were talking to one of their pupils. 

An understanding nod was enough to reassure her. She watched her colleague walking off with slightly more speed than usual. Of course, she trusted him, but after the secrets he withheld from her last term, she couldn’t help but worry. Eventually, she understood his motives and knew he had compunctions after all. 

His accessory, that is her role ever since the horrid battle underneath the very floor they walked on every day. Now she was the one withholding information, from Black, from the Ministry, and even their students.

Nervously she rubbed her hands together watching him go. Empirically, she should rally the troops and prepare herself for numerous duels through the vast caves beneath Hogwarts. But right now she plainly wasn’t doubting Eleazar's feeling and the disconcerted students in the Great Hall, who watched their freshly pressed orange juice swash from left to right, were her responsibility. Keeping everyone calm and collected was her avocation, after all.

She straightened her back, before turning and striding back to the hall.

_________________________

What if his gut instinct really was induced by hunger? Should he have brought Aesop along, just to be safe? He's been terribly foolish, hasn’t he?

His thoughts grew more worried with each step. A voice calling after him interrupted his building penchant for paranoia.

“Professor, do you have a moment?”, a soft voice, echoed down the corridor.

Without looking back, he continued to hurry forward, “I'm terribly sorry, dear. I seem to be in a bit of a rush.” He waved a hand over his shoulder in a quick, apologetic manner.

“Oh, I am sorry. I was just looking for Edwin Woodruff. Some students told me you might know where he is.”

Only then did he turn around. His eyebrows flew up a few levels. Privily he cursed himself, the French accent should have let him turn around straight away.

“Ms. Dubois, sorry for my rude behaviour. Pleased to finally meet you properly, after last night.”, he smiled and took a few steps towards her.

Such a lovely smile was directed back to him and her blue eyes sparkled.

“Thank you, monsieur. Last evening wasn’t the best moment to meet. Actually, I'm looking for Edwin to ask him if he wants to join Alfred and me in the Three Broomsticks for lunch to properly meet up. With us being in the same situation and all.”, she said innocently, with a hint of shyness.

A smug grin appeared on Fig's face, he didn’t even try to hide, “Well, I don't know where he is at the moment, but I will do my best to inform him about your undertaking before midday. If you excused me, I really should be on my way.”

She smiled and nodded her head enthusiastically, “Of course, Of course, I don’t want to keep you, monsieur. And thank you!”

He was already on his way when he called over his shoulder, “You are very welcome, and ‘sir’ is just fine.”

Although their encounter was brief, he couldn’t help but like this girl.

_________________________

Creaking doors opened to reveal the Map Chamber, although the map vanished and unveiled the path to the repository. Apparently, the name remained. 

Professor Fig descended the stairs quickly, two steps at a time. Surprisingly, none of the portraits was occupied by a Keeper. This rumbling surely must have got their attention.

Unbothered by the absence of Professor Rackham and the others, Professor Fig hurried through the door and over the bridge to the cave of the repository. He hasn’t been down here since the battle and the state of the cavern might be utter destruction, after a dragon-shaped manifestation of feral emotions caused massive destruction, and wanted their collective demise.

Sometimes he wondered how his decision to retire from worldwide adventures in favour of a peaceful professorship led to even more life-threatening encounters than before.

Against all expectations, he didn’t arrive in the middle of a goblin raid or a cave liable to collapse but rather in the entrance hall to a hidden palace. His mouth opened in awe as he whispered, “Godric's heart…”, to himself.

Grey stone walls were replaced by marble-like walls in blue and silver colour schemes. Enormous pillars supported the ceiling, which was equally stunning to look at. It almost looked like the colours were pouring from the sky and came together on the floor. The result was a stripe framed in dark wood following the corridor ahead. He recognised the textures of the stripe as the star-filled ground he first saw, when the map on the ground formed itself so long ago. A beauty which was now reserved on the ground. The countless tiny stars illuminated the floor in a soft blue glow which fought against the warm orange-golden light radiating from spheres of opal glass hanging from the ceiling, together with various trailing plants breaking through the stone due to the force of nature. His eyes were invited to rest, while looking at this painting In front of him. Because this is what this place had to be, a painting. Someone really put in the effort to visualise literally harmony.

And that someone was probably around, sleep-deprived. Altogether, this reminded him strongly of the Gringotts vault and the Map Chamber, and both were built by Keepers. Portraits couldn’t just waltz out of their frames and construct such a place, so it wasn’t a stretch to deduce who the architect was.

As if on cue, the ground started shaking once again and loud crashing sounds of stone falling on stone came from deeper parts of the cave. Without further ado, he followed the stripe of stars and marvelled at the scale of the build. For several minutes he followed this path before the noise became so loud, he had to protect his ears. It was only when a short pause allowed him to call out, that he shouted as loud as he could.

“Edwin!”

He listened intently for a reply, but heard none.

Rounding a corner, he came upon a part of the structure still unfinished. The current construction site had to be nearby.

Once again, he called out, “Edwin!”

For a few seconds, only the echo of his voice responded.

Eventually, a familiar voice answered, “Professor?”

Relieved, Professor Fig picked up his pace towards his protégé. Turning yet another corner, he finally saw him. The light was extremely dim, due to the fact that no lantern and no starry floor decoration was there yet. Only walls and a stone quarry, on which Edwin was visible only as a silhouette, already climbing down. 

Panting slightly from the short but intense climb, Edwin addressed him, still sliding down boulders.

“Professor, what brings you here?”, he asked innocently, speaking louder than usual.

Fig illuminated the room with Lumos as he closed the distance between them, wanting a better look at his student.

The boy sliding down from the cairn was as dishevelled as miners come. 

Rolled up sleeves and trouser legs with a cloak nowhere in sight was a peculiar view already. Furthermore, the only whiff of formal attire, his tie, was severely damaged and askew, with the top buttons of his shirt undone. Generally, he looked like he rolled around dirt and dust for the better part of the morning. The original colour of his shirt was a mystery at this point, although his bet was on white. Also, white was surprisingly half of his hair, caused by cobwebs and fine stone powder rather than being a sign of old age. Naturally, his face bore spots of dirt like the rest of him.

This young man, this brilliant young wizard, who has abilities beyond their knowledge took the final steps towards Fig, resembling a four-year-old, who had spent all day playing unsupervised in the garden behind the cottage.

“What brings me here? Oh, I don't know. Perhaps it was the shaking that nearly moved the entire castle or the fear of another invasion breaching our protection charms.”, his mentor answered wryly.

The young Ravenclaw froze and stared at him, wide-eyed. It was almost comical, given that the whites of his eyes were the only clear colour on him.

He rubbed his hands together, trying to rid them of dirt.

“Oh.”, he replied loudly.

Fig pressed his mouth into a line and nodded, “Yes, ‘oh’. What in Merlin's name are you even doing?”

Edwin put a hand on his hip and gestured behind him with the other, turning around a bit. “I'm securing the passage to the repository and the repository itself. I'm working on the general building first, before I use further protection charms. Professor Rackham told me he might help, and I already read about a few in the library. It seemed kind of reckless to leave the most powerful reservoir of ancient magic just floating around in a damp cave.”, he stated, followed by a short nervous laugh, still speaking rather loud.

His mentor couldn’t disagree with him. The place needed protection, and a puissant one at that.

Professor Fig hummed to himself as his features softened, taking In the surroundings.

Edwin, still nervous, shifted on his feet and rubbed one side of his face.

“I mean, I'm the new Keeper of this place. Keeping it safe is kind of in the occupational title, isn’t it?”

Fig exhaled, “You are right, and I won't argue with you on that part. But guarding it surely doesn't involve doing all of this work on your own after a short night and inducing an earthquake before breakfast. By Merlin, I was still sleeping.”

He tried to sound serious, but a part of him was still frustrated about the interrupted sleep as he rubbed his eyes.

“The whole school is in an uproar. Professor Weasley would have stormed the cave by herself.”, he added.

At least the young wizard had the courtesy to look guilty and down to his manky shoes.

“I'm sorry, sir. I didn't realise it was this noticeable.”, he mumbled.

Professor Fig, still holding up his wand with the light of Lumos, sighed.

“Well, the damage is done. At least stop for now.”, he began.

Sighing again, he lowered his wand, “Do you have these comely lanterns around here? I want to see your remorseful face properly.”, he joked, trying to lift the mood.

Amidst the dirt, he saw Edwin smile as he drew his wand and began to conjure lanterns for the newest part of the corridor. 

As his student began to illuminate their surroundings, Fig put his hands behind his back and regarded his wand work. Edwin certainly came a long way. The shy child he first encountered in the orphanage in London was long gone. Although, right now his appearance almost matched with his former look, considering the dust, dirt and ragged clothing. Nonetheless, a young man was standing mere feet from him, who has weathered more dangers than most do in a lifetime. As his first contact with the wizarding world, Professor Fig couldn’t help but feel proud.

Edwin worked with his back to his mentor and missed the fond smile on the old wizard's face.

“This entire structure is quite astonishing, Edwin. Tell me, how long have you been secretly sneaking down here to build all of this?”, he asked, gesturing around with open arms.

Edwin continued with his magic, “Oh, I started a few hours ago, but I’ve been planning it for weeks.”

Professor Fig was taken aback by the answer and took a glance at his fob watch.

“A few hours, you say. Either you haven’t slept at all or far less than I would like. So what makes you avoid sleep like the plague?”, he asked in a serious tone, because he knew the sleeping pattern of Edwin Woodruff Was erratic.

Edwin didn’t have to see the stern expression of his mentor to recognize the disapproval in his voice. He froze mid-movement, the lantern suspended in mid-air.

“I… I couldn’t sleep after last night and wanted to clear my head, to be honest.”, he continued to hang the lanterns without turning around.

The features of his mentor softened. Of course, one night wouldn’t wipe the first task and his unexpected nomination from the boy's mind. 

“If you want to talk about what happened, I’m always here to listen.”, he told him, with a warm tone.

“I know, sir. Thank you.”, came the brief reply.

Edwin just picked up another lantern to attach it to the ceiling, when his mentor continued.

“And if you don't want to pour your heart out to an old man, you could always talk to the young lady, who wants to meet you in Hogsmeade this noon.”, he teased.

The young Ravenclaw turned around, the lantern completely forgotten. Unfortunately, gravity took a hold on the heavy illuminant, and it shattered into a million pieces. 

“Watch out!”, Professor Fig called out, taking a step forward instinctively. 

However, Edwin didn’t even flinch during the ear-shattering crash. His eyes went wide, and he stared at his mentor in shock.

“What…”, he mumbled, his entire body tense.

Fig approached, still glancing at the ruined lamp near the wall.

His eyes met Edwin's, “Mademoiselle Dubois recruited me as a messenger. Apparently, I'm a reliable source when it comes to your whereabouts.”, he winked at his bustling protégé.

Confusion was written all over Edwin's dusty face.

“But why would she be looking for me?”, he questioned, trying to get to the bottom of it.

Professor Fig rolled his eyes with a smile and stepped past his student, wand in hand. Calmly, he began to cast Reparo on the destroyed lantern, reassembling it in the air.

“I already told you, she wants to meet you at noon. More specifically, at the Three Broomsticks for lunch.”, Fig reiterated.

As he carefully lifted the repaired lantern, he glanced back with a smirk.

“Are you sure you didn’t knock your head on a stalactite during your mining efforts?”, Fig said, already chuckling to himself.

Eventually the lantern was in its proper place, and the corridor was completely illuminated, the dark banished.

In this light, the place seemed like a long-lost palace of sorts. The only thing out of place was its architect. Blue eyes were wide as saucers as he registered what his mentor just told him. Both hands clutched his wand like a lifeline, standing rooted to the spot.

“I don't know.”, he stammered, panic creeping into his voice. While pondering, he subconsciously put his hand up to his mouth and began to bite his nails, an old habit of his always coming through when he was nervous.

“We should return to the castle sooner rather than later. I’m afraid Professor Weasley might charge in here, if I don’t give the all-clear. And you -”, he patted Edwin on the back hard enough to raise a small cloud of dust.

“You need to clean up and have a bath - or several - before joining your fellow Triwizard Champion.”, he smiled, a teasing glint in his eyes.

With a gentle push, Fig guided Edwin towards the exit, and they began their walk back to the Map Chamber.

Finally, Edwin looked down and turned his hands, taking in his current filthy state.

“A bath is properly a good idea. But Professor Weasley will likely want a word with me. Or rather, she'll want to scold me.”, he grimaced, mortified by the idea of facing Professor Weasley's wrath. He wasn’t even sure if she was capable of getting truly angry, but today wasn’t the day to find out.

“Oh, she definitely will.”, his mentor replied with a chuckle.

Seeing the crestfallen look of his pupil, Fig added, “But I’m sure we can postpone this conversation to this evening.”

Hopeful eyes snapped towards the older wizard, “Really?”

“Yes. You go and enjoy your afternoon. But promise me to come around my office afterwards.”, Fig requested, starting to pick out the cobwebs on Edwin's head with his wand. 

The young wizard grinned, and continued to pat himself down, to get rid of the soil and dirt. “Promise.”

Fig returned the smile and gave Edwin's shoulder a final, encouraging pat, as they made their way out of the damp cavern.

“Splendid.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 18

He was early- too early. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. 

Usually, he’d prepare just in time, only to be delayed by unexpected events—whether it was being ambushed or stumbling upon some illicit activity. A poacher’s camp had made him late for class once, and a goblin mining site made him miss an evening out in Hogsmeade with his friends.

But now, with the goblin rebellion quelled and Harlow's syndicate dismantled, he no longer had a valid excuse for being tardy.

The sun shone brightly over Hogsmeade, nearing its zenith in the clear blue sky, but it was still an hour until noon.

Nervously, he made his way towards Pippin’s Potions, fiddling with his hands, absent-minded.

If one had been a resident of Hogsmeade on this fine September day in 1891, one would have witnessed a rare sight. The young wizard was a common guest in the quaint village, and well regarded for his heroic actions, defending it from evil of all kinds. Numerous shop owners still owed him a favour, for sending him on errands when they were too tied up with business matters. Additionally, he was a reliable ally for the people of Hogsmeade when it concerned personal matters. Due to his many missions, he was always in a hurry and frequently seen wearing ragged clothes, which sometimes even had burns or dubious stains on them. The rumours were definitely creating themselves.

For that reason, it was a rare sight. The young wizard about to enter Pippin’s store was dressed to impress. He wore long, dark gray striped trousers with black shoes, a crisp white collared shirt tucked in, and a royal blue vest with a matching tie. His sleeves were neatly rolled up, his hair freshly combed, and his newly polished glasses gleamed in the sunlight as he opened the purple door. No one would have guessed that just hours ago, he had been digging through the foundation of Hogwarts.

Over  the last year, Parry Pippin became a dependable business partner. Whatever the young wizard stumbled upon on his adventures, Mr. Pippin always offered him a good price and could turn everything into something. Furthermore, he regularly rummaged through the current inventory and often found something for his experimental laboratory in the Room of Requirement. His services as a delivery man and the exceptional quality of his ingredients earned him a fair discount over the months. 

“Mr. Woodruff, what a pleasant surprise. What exotic ingredients have you incidentally found by the wayside now?”, Mr. Pippin asked, welcoming one of his favorite customers. The potion seller never questioned the origin of the goods Edwin sold him, which suited the young Ravenclaw just fine. The constant questions and suspicions from his peers and professors were enough to handle already. Occasionally, Mr. Pippin would raise a brow if the young boy brought him a bag full of Stench of the Dead or Troll Bogeys, but he would accept Edwin's answer of finding them near the path by accident each time with a wink. This simple explanation and obvious lie was a common quip between them.

Edwin adjusted his glasses, smiling at the man, “Good day, sir. No, unfortunately, I don't have new goods for you.”

Mr. Pippin smiled,  leaning on his counter, “A shame, really. But with you dressed like that, I should have known. This is no outfit to catch Lacewing flies in. You're looking quite smart, my friend.” 

The compliment made Edwin smile sheepishly, “Thank you, sir. I have a meeting soon, but I thought I could have a look around what's new.”

Pippin’s smile faded into a troubled frown. “Feel free to browse, but I’m afraid there isn’t anything new.”

As Edwin looked around, he noticed the empty spaces on the shelves, the dust indicating they had been bare for some time. 

“Oh, may I ask why?”, he inquired.

Mr. Pippin sighed. “For several weeks I've been expecting deliveries from Pitt-Upon-Ford. The suppliers won't answer any letters I've sent, and they also can’t be found. The whole situation is most inconvenient, but nothing for you to worry about.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, it sounds stressful.”, Edwin replied, unsure what to do.

Although desperation was seeping through every word Mr. Pippin had said, he waved it off and continued with curiosity.

“Like I said, don't worry about it. But tell me, what is it I hear this morning about you being  named Hogwarts’ Champion?”, he asked, glancing over his spectacles.

Now it was Edwin's turn to sigh.

“Involuntarily, I might add.”, the young wizard answered, hands on his hips.

“Hm, I heard something along those lines. You can’t catch a break, can you?”, Pippin smirked.

“Apparently not. But today, today I'll simply take a break.”, Edwin's grin was wide, already turning to leave. He had no desire to tell the tail of the first tournament before lunch or at all, even if it was Mr. Pippin.

Mr. Pippin sensed that his young friend wasn’t going to share any more details with him.

“You go and have a great day! I will let you know, when something extraordinary finds its way into my shop.”

Edwin nodded in farewell and continued his way down the road. 

He noticed some people stare at him this morning. Now that he had confirmation that word of what happened had already reached the village, he was no longer surprised by whispering students and starring residents.

While thinking and simply walking on and on, he found himself in front of Madam Snelling’s Tress Emporium. Edwin looked at his reflection in the window and then at his pocket watch. 

He still had half an hour…

________________________

"Edwin! How lovely to see you. I believe there are some friends of yours waiting over there.”, Sirona greeted him, nodding towards a table near the fireplace. 

The universe seemed to be in balance once again, as he had managed to arrive late after all. At least he’d gotten a fresh haircut—his unruly fringe tamed, and his hair back to a reasonable length.

“Thank you, Sirona.”, he replied, already blushing. Just the sight of her was enough to fluster him.

The innkeeper noticed his nervousness and immediately understood. “Good luck!”, she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

‘In and out. Don’t hold your breath! Steady, slow breaths.’

Merlin, why was he so nervous? They wouldn’t even be alone for lunch, as Alfred was there as well. He could do this.

Over creaking floorboards, he made his way to the small table next to the wooden beam near the mantle.

Upon seeing him, she smiled, and her face lit up. Blue eyes with green dots shone like the sun, and her blonde hair sparkled like a beacon amid the dull colours of the pub. Her azure school robe also made her stand out quite a bit.

“Edwin! I'm glad you could make it. Professor Fig found you, then?”, she greeted him.

The Ravenclaw slid onto the third wooden stool at the table, smiling at them both.

“Oh, yes…he tends to do that.”, he shyly offered.

A forceful pat on the back from Alfred caused him to nearly slip off the stool again.

“Well, now that we are all together at last, we should probably introduce ourselves.”, Alfred suggested.

Without missing a beat, Élodie began, laying down her folded hands on the table.

“Élodie Dubois. I'm a sixth-year student from Beauxbaton, and I'm looking forward to getting to know you all better this year.” Her French accent almost made that short introduction sound like a song, or perhaps it was her voice alone.

Either way, Edwin couldn't help but smile right back at her, looking at her eyes, even though she was looking anywhere but him.

“Ehm, I'm Edwin, Edwin Woodruff. I'm also a sixth-year student. From Hogwarts, obviously. And -”

“Hold on -”, Alfred interrupted him. To be fair, it wasn’t much of an interruption, due to the fact that Edwin had not an ounce of an idea how to continue his little self-description.

“If you're a sixth-year now, does this mean you were the student who began last year?”, Alfred asked.

Élodie's face showed utter surprise as she turned to Edwin. Great, now both of them looked at him with such an intensity, he feared they might burn right through him with their expectant glances. Eventually, he nodded slowly.

“Ha, Woodruff, I knew I'd heard that name before. It was on the tip of my tongue, when…you know, before I was falling to my death.”, Durmstrang’s champion finished dryly.

His fellow contestants hummed and shivered at the memory of the previous night.

Edwin was the first to recover, “If you know all that you've got the advantage over me, because you haven’t introduced yourself yet.” 

Edwin crossed his arms and leaned back, a smug grin on his face was clearly teasing.

Alfred laughed, “Alfred Lundberg's the name. Unnecessary to say I'm attending Durmstrang.”, he said, straightening his crimson uniform a bit.

“Oh, and I'm in my seventh-year.”

At this, Edwin and Élodie exchanged a look. Edwin was enchained by the feeling that ran through him when their eyes met. A blush crept on his face, and the room felt warmer than mere seconds before, although the fireplace was unlit.

However, Élodie turned her head back to Alfred. Alfred, the tall, muscular student from the north who made the average-sized stool look like it was meant for a child. The same wizard who sported a full-grown beard and the appearance of someone who had already started a successful career in the wizarding world.

“Pardon me for asking, but being a seventh-year, that would make you seventeen years old, right?”, she politely asked

Alfred huffed but charmingly smiled nonetheless, "Yes. But now you’re wondering why I don't look a day older than twenty-seven?”

Élodie and Edwin once again looked at each other, Edwin slightly shrugging.

“Don't worry, you’re not the first to ask.”, Alfred said calmly.

“Unfortunately, an incident in my childhood combined with a rather poorly brewed Ageing Potion, left me looking ten years older. It's in the past now, something I can't change. It made me quite the curiosity in my hometown though…”, his eyes grew distant as he finished his brief explanation.

Élodie covered her mouth in an attempt to hold in the gasp, “Oh, Alfred…”

Before Edwin could find the right words, the Durmstrang Champion got up and grinned at them both.

“But you know what else it made me?”, Alfred questioned, but he didn't wait for an answer.

“The lad, who will get you your first round of butterbeer.”, with that he was off to Sirona at the counter.

Without a doubt, the subject was a sore spot for Alfred, and the excuse to get drinks was as good as any to flee the conversation and pity of his peers. In a way, Edwin saw himself in his reaction.

They watched him leave, both still processing the surprising revelation. 

But Edwin saw an opportunity now that they were alone.

“I guess I never got the chance to properly apologize.”

She turned to him, a soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth. He didn’t need to elaborate further, for she knew exactly what he meant.

“ There is nothing to apologize for. Who knows, I might have been burned from that hot liquid. All is forgiven.”, she whispered to him, carefully as to not let anyone else in the pub hear her words.

He frowned and looked like he was about to say something, but she put her hand on his to silence him.

“Natty and I even had a good laugh in the bathroom.”, she chuckled.

Still trying to process her hand touching his, the best he came up with was, “Well, that's good.”

Élodie laughed some more and wrinkled her nose, “And from what I've heard, you're quite famous for causing trouble.”

His eyes went wide, and nearly popped out of his head, “What? What have you heard?”

The young witch only laughed, and just then, a tray was set down on the table with a thud, cutting their conversation short. Three brimful cups of frothy butterbeer and three steaming bowls of Sirona's fine cooking were placed between them.

“Here you go. Three butterbeers and the daily stew from Sirona.”, Alfred announced.

They thanked him and set the table.

“À ta santé!”, Élodie called out, raising her butterbeer.

With “Cheers.” and “Bottoms up!” Edwin and Alfred joined in, clinking cups.

After enjoying their meal in companionable silence, Edwin decided to break the quiet.

“So, are your schools only girls and boys? “, he innocently questioned them. The only other school he heard about was Ouagadou, and he wasn't an expert on their procedures either.

“Because we only came with good-looking lads like me?”, Alfred answered with a smug smile, winking at Élodie. She looked back down onto her stew, smiling a whit.

The northern student looked back at the Ravenclaw, clearly amused.,“No, we do have girls up in the north, you know. Unfortunately, the thinking is a bit frozen in time, perhaps it's the weather.”, he tries to joke, but a serious flair came through in his words.

“Durmstrang never won the Triwizard Cup and some of our professors still don't realize that physical strength doesn't co- cor-, how do you say?”, he fumbled for the right syllables.

“Correlate?”, Edwin offered.

Enthusiastically, he pointed at Edwin. “Yes, that's the one, thank you. It doesn't correlate with magical abilities.”, he finished, taking a sip from his butterbeer.

“What a pity.”, Élodie muttered, looking troubled by the thought of some poor girl sitting in a snowy tower somewhere in the northern mountains, desperately wishing to spend a year in Scotland.

“What about your school?”, Alfred inquired, pulling her from her thoughts.

Sheepishly, she sat up straighter, “Oh, it was their own fault really.”

“What?”, Edwin asked, clearly not following.

Élodie looked up to see both boys looking at her, expecting further details.

“Actually, Headmistress Courtois insisted on taking every student in sixth year. It was only a few days before departure that the boys thought it would be a funny thing to take the winged horses out for a flight on the first day of school. In the end, the professors found out and their punishment was to stay in Beauxbaton. Poor Rémy, he wasn't even part of the whole thing.”, she sighed.

For a few seconds it was silent apart from the other guests in the pub.

“That…sounds like so much fun. Most likely, I would have done the same.”, Alfred deadpanned.

“Me too.”, Edwin agreed, hiding his grin in the foam of his butterbeer.

Alfred watched his attempt to disguise his laughter and snorted, losing it completely.

“Troublemakers, the lot of you.”, Élodie said, her consternation only being an act.

Alfred threw up his hands, leaning forward. “I've never flown on a magical creature. If the opportunity was there, I would definitely take it.”

Élodie just shook her head, giggling.

“I have.”, Edwin said, foam still clinging to his upper lip.

Alfred's eyes went back and forth, settling on the smartly dressed wizard. “What?”

“Flew on a Hippogriff's back.”, Edwin answered calmly, like it was the most common thing to do.

“Shut up, you didn’t.”, Alfred replied, slapping his hand on the table.

“I did! We actually have a few wild ones in the Forbidden Forest.”, the Ravenclaw insisted, gesturing over his shoulder at the vague direction of the dark woodland.

Excitement flared up in Alfred's eyes as he inched closer to Edwin. “You're kidding! Can we see them?”

Élodie looked appalled by the sheer suggestion.

“Obviously not! It's forbidden for a reason!”

Edwin only cast Alfred a look as if to tell him: ‘If you know what you're doing, this won't stop you.’

Alfred grinned and got up again, “I'm gonna get another round”

They spend their second round of butterbeer discussing the valley and what else could be done, besides spending time in Hogwarts. Although Edwin only had spent a year in this area, he certainly came around quite a lot. He told them about the broom races scattered around the glen. With each sip of butterbeer the conversation became more unbent, and he felt like he was talking with old friends.

It must have been when he finally let go of his anxiety, surrendering to the social atmosphere. Of course, Élodie was sitting right next to him, and occasionally he would be aware again as to where he was, but he didn't blush again.

He distracted himself well enough by listing beautiful places and villages he came across while on his travels. Swimming in the Black Lake, enjoying a walk through the autumn fields waiting for the harvest, getting pranked by scarecrows or having a stand-off with a snowman - there was certainly enough to spend the free time around Hogwarts all year.

Once again he was proven right, that time must have been enchanted, because the third round of butterbeer was on their table, when he could have sworn, he just got the second.

He never had three butterbeers in a row, but Professor Fig had told him to spend more time doing normal student activities exactly just like this.

A few conversation topics later, they were clinking their cups for the fourth time this day, and he couldn’t help but wonder.

“How are your quarters? Made any friends yet in Hufflepuff and Slytherin?”, he asked, taking another swing.

Immediately, Élodie's eyebrows flew up, and she excitedly said, “The dormitories are so cosy! And all of your Hufflepuffs are incredibly nice. We certainly had some long nights in the girls quarters, chatting about this and that.”

Alfred chuckles, looking at Edwin across the table.

“Us, she means us. Talking about boys.”, he teased, gesturing between himself and Edwin.

Élodie gasped, her voice rising a few notes, “Pardon? No! Well, not solely…”

“Aha!”, Edwin exclaimed triumphantly, before taking another sip.

Watching the display with an amused expression, Alfred suddenly sighed overdramatically. "At least you talk with each other. I don’t know who came up with the idea to confine a bunch of students in the dungeons, underwater, but this was destined for disaster.”

“Did our tentacled friend scare you?”, Edwin said, wiggling his fingers in an attempt to imitate the resident of the Black Lake. 

“That giant kraken you weird British folks have in the lake surrounding your school? No, this should have been the most scary bit, but it wasn’t. You want to know what's scary?”, Alfred asked, trying to build suspense.

Élodie shivered, being reminiscent of her encounter with a épée wielding, headless knight. “The ghosts everywhere?”

Alfred pointed at her, “Good guess, but no. The Slytherins.”

At this declaration, both Edwin and Élodie lost what little composure they had left. Hearty laughter exploded out of them, and tears were beginning to let their eyes sparkle.

“Stop laughing, I'm serious.”, he said, although he was chuckling himself.

“They all walk around trying to be all mysterious, staring out the windows like they’re plotting something. The problem is, most of our boys are exactly like that. So now we’ve got a whole bunch of guys competing to look more mysterious than the others. It’s terrifying.”, somehow, he managed to sound serious, which only caused his peers to laugh harder.

When he realized they wouldn’t stop laughing anytime soon, he got up.

“I’ll get another round while you two try to pull yourselves together.”

With their fifth butterbeer in hand, they gradually relaxed, though they noticed Sirona giving them a subtle hint that their laughter was getting a bit loud. The witch didn’t mind her guests having fun, but apparently, a grumpy resident—who was known for yelling at students who came too close to his house—was disturbed by their mirth. Merlin, he had a point. Just yesterday, they’d been chosen to compete in one of the deadliest tournaments in the wizarding world, and here they were on a late Sunday afternoon, sipping their fifth butterbeer.

Maybe it was the drink, but Edwin felt a question bubbling up that he couldn’t hold back.

“I'm sorry to massacre the mood like that, but I've got a question for you.”

“Fire away.”, Alfred announced, a bit too cheerful.

“During your flight back to Hogwarts. Did you see anything…unusual?”, Edwin asked, trying not to sound too curious.

Alfred, rubbed his beard, “Apart from the thunderstorm forming within seconds?”

“Yes.”, Edwin's short reply was.

“I didn’t really see anything.”, Élodie said quietly, her voice suddenly hushed. “It was more like a feeling.”, she hesitated, a strange expression crossing her face, one Edwin had never seen before. It was as if all the light that usually radiated from her had dimmed.

“Please, go on.”, the young Ravenclaw urged.

“It felt like I was being watched, constantly. Like something was right there beside me. As if I wasn’t just trapped in a storm, but rather in a storm with something coming for me.”, haunted eyes searched for Edwin's.

When her blue eyes finally met his, she could’ve sworn she saw a flash of lightning from the previous night reflected in them.

But instead of thunder, his laughter rang through the whole pub.

Chapter Text

Chapter 19 - Glumbumble Treacle 

In the Wizarding World, especially among old, pure-blooded families, prestige was paramount. It manifested in various forms, whether as sprawling country estates adorned with intricate architectural details or the ability to secure the best seats at the Quidditch World Cup, prestige came in many forms.

For those who weren’t born into wealth built and preserved for generations, their talent and occupation were the groundwork for their status in the society of wizards and witches all over the globe.

For instance, generations of Ollivanders managed to become the gold standard for expert craftsmanship when it came to wands. Mind you, there was a short period in 1450 when the work of Bodolf Humphries, an Irish wand maker, was rumoured to be superior. However, all praise died down as he presented his new invention just before Christmas. A Billywig sting as a wand's core was touted by Humphries as even more powerful than Ollivanders cores. 

This audacious claim shook the magical community. Someone was confident enough to challenge hundreds of years of tradition with such a bold invention. He either must be right or completely mad. Anyway, everyone who got a new wand for Christmas or their first wand in general got it from Humphries Handy Wands in the year 1450. 

Unfortunately, a Billywig's sting, which was also an ingredient of the infamous, you guessed it, Fizzing Wizzbees. Making students float for mere seconds is one thing, but turning every spell cast from the wand into an extremely powerful version of Leviosa is another.

It was a faithful, snowy night in late December, where countless muggles saw people in strange clothes floating in the sky, over houses or over fields. Luckily, it was a snowy day, and no moonlight revealed more details. But these sightings caused a chain reaction. The myth of Christmas elves, bizarrely dressed figures floating from house to house on Christmas Eve, was born and many muggles, especially the religious ones, thought they saw the angel, who declared the arrival of Jesus to the three shepherds. Little did they know, it was Norbert Winnileg, a seller of enchanted footwear, who was trying out his new wand, while wearing his white nightgown.

A collapse of the magical world was almost imminent, and a few truths came to light, based on the hard work of determined Aurors. The wands weren’t tested, and Humphries wasn’t actually Irish. A huge relief for the Irish, due to the unfortunate fact that this disaster marked the beginning of the longest-lasting period of witch persecutions in Central Europe. But this is a story for another time.

To this day, Ollivanders remains a household name in the wizarding world, their legacy secure. The profession and the quality of their work assured it.

Aurors also gained fame for their wit, their bravery and their determination to face pure evil and its henchmen.

The Ministry was a symbol for prestige, and many went down that path to seek it, making a name for themselves fighting crime syndicates or slaying dragons.

However, there was always one position many regarded even higher than any of the Ministries. 

Being a professor, or even the headmaster of Hogwarts.

Hogwarts was renowned for offering the finest education to shape the future of the Wizarding World. Most headmasters went down as great witches and wizards, who rallied remarkable teachers around them.

However, with Phineas Nigellus Black at the helm, it seemed like a looking-glass world. In its 898-year history, Hogwarts had never seen a headmaster less suited to the role. Fortunately, the school’s stellar faculty maintained the balance.

The faculty was well regarded, and it was seen as a tremendous honour to teach at this prestigious school. An honour which Professor Fig shared with his colleagues. 

As chance would have it, there were only three male professors teaching at Hogwarts in 1891, excluding the ever-present Professor Binns and the ever useless Headmaster Black. Phineas Nigellus Black has never taught a single class in all his time at Hogwarts, and to many this was a fine tradition that could remain that way. As for Professor Binns, the man or rather the ghost, was floating in his own world of goblin rebellions and unfunny facts about ancient artefacts. 

This left only three gentlemen, Professor Fig, Professor Sharp and Professor Ronen. The former came up with the idea of regular trips to the Three Broomsticks as a sort of team-building measure. 

At first, Sharp was refusing steadfastly to walk all the way to Hogsmeade, only to be surrounded by students yet again. 

However, his colleagues wouldn’t butch. A secret Floo Flame within Sirona's storage room as well as a chamber separate from the rest of the pub left Professor Sharp with no warrantable arguments against an occasional afternoon at the pub. 

Once a month they would gather, chat about students and upcoming exams, their insufferable headmaster or tidings from the valley. And sometimes, just sometimes, they would talk about private affairs. Eventually, it took four or five of these meetings for Aesop Sharp to give in to interpersonal contacts. The former Auror was naturally withdrawn and Professor Fig and Professor Ronen considered it a seminal triumph, that they managed to socialize their younger colleague. 

Their first meeting after Miriam's death was difficult, for all of them. Eleazar has spent most of his time confined in his chambers, unwilling to see anyone. On this day they sat in silence, and they drank in silence, until gradually they began to swap stories of Miriam and her mischief. It was the first time Fig laughed since an owl with black feathers arrived at Hogwarts. Tears flowed freely, as well as Sirona's finest firewhiskey. Perhaps a bit too much of the drink, but if Professor Weasley suspected anything upon their late arrival at the Faculty Tower, she didn't comment, but she made sure that all three of them got their breakfast the next morning delivered by trusty house-elves. 

Today, however, Professor Fig and Professor Sharp went without Ronen, because their colleague was summoned by his wife. Apparently, one of his children had fallen ill and was admitted to St. Mungos, but they didn’t know any more.

So it came, that they made their way up the stairs to the room in the attic.

Ever the Auror, Sharp noticed his colleague glimpsing over the balustrade on their way up. By the time they reached their destination, he was rubbing his leg. Of course, he would never admit it willingly, but stairs were still a daily affliction. With a huff, he slumped down in the armchair, still rubbing circles on his upper leg. Despite the pain, he kept a watchful look on his older colleague.

“Tell me, why are we here today, if the next gathering should have been next week? What was so important that we left Ronen behind?”, Sharp asked, placing his bad leg on a small footrest.

Professor Fig, who had his hands clasped behind the back and was pacing near the door, looked startled when he was addressed. Almost as if he was caught off guard that the only other person in the room was talking to him. “Oh, it would have been next week?”

Sharp frowned, “Wha-...What do you mean ‘next’?! I told you so all the way from my office, which you dragged me out of, to the bloody pub.” To emphasize his point, he ended his sentence with a perfectly aimed Confrigo, lighting up the fireplace. Despite the warm temperatures outside, the thick walls of The Three Broomsticks refused to let dark magic or warm air penetrate.

Fig slowly made his way towards the couch. “I apologize, I must have been buried in my thoughts.”

“In your thoughts, were you? Thinking about your protégé lurching from one catastrophe to the next?” Sharp asked, picking up a copy of the Daily Prophet lying nearby.

Fig sat up straight, “If this is about the detention- ”

“- Which he rightfully deserved.”, Sharp interrupted, flipping a page of the paper with exaggerated emphasis.

When no reply came from the older wizard, he looked over to him. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, and his usually wrinkled face had even deeper lines from a frown.

Professor Sharp rolled his eyes, “I know his intention was to help the girl, but casting Aguamenti next to twenty bubbling cauldrons was an immensely negligent act. And setting a warning example this early in the year is one of the few things standing between me and utter chaos in my classroom.”

Fig thought about it for a moment before settling on, “He was troubled quite a bit by it.”

Sharp snickered, “Don't have to be a Demiguise to predict that. His face was evidence enough.”

Fig winced, leaning back against the couch cushions. Meanwhile, Sharp’s attention returned to the Daily Prophet, though a particularly bold headline briefly sidetracked him.

Another Attempt to Crossbreed Chickens and Dragons—Ministry Warns of Dire Consequences.

“Fools,” he muttered to himself before catching Fig staring off into the middle distance, clearly lost in thought.

Sharp cleared his throat, breaking the silence, “But the two of them seem to have overcome their little accident.”

“What makes you say that?”, Fig asked, his eyebrows arching in curiosity.

The potions master rolled his eyes.

 “Really, Fig, I saw the two of them having lunch downstairs with the Durmstrang boy. It doesn't take years of experience as an Auror to connect the dots. You are clearly spying on the boy. You even rescheduled our trip to the pub. ”

Fig opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Sharp.

“Before you tell me about the huge coincidence of us being here at the same time, I'm not a fool, Fig. You trained the boy and accompanied him on his extracurricular shenanigans. Of course, you care for him.”

Exhaling, Fig admitted,“ I can't help it.”

Sharp regarded his colleague, “No… “.

His eyes turned distant as he stared into the flames.

“After everything we have been through -”

Sharp nodded faintly, his tone softer.  “I understand.”

Fig shifted in his place on the sofa, a curious smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Well, what did it look like down there?”

With a sigh, Sharp reopened the Daily Prophet, sinking deeper into the armchair.

“What, you didn't see them?”, he chuckled.

“Perhaps you should ask Professor Weasley if she could conjure you some glasses.”

Sharp continued to stare at his newspaper. He wasn't waiting for a reply and was naturally surprised about Figs answer.

“I already have a pair, thank you.”, Professor Fig stated without much ado, avoiding his colleagues' gaze.

Meanwhile, Sharp nearly dropped his newspaper, causing the drawn lady in the advertisement about flying shoes to stumble slightly. “What!? Where?”

Fig wiggled his eyebrows, an impish smile appearing on his lips. “Surprised, are you? I keep them out of sight, like you hide your walking stick.”

Few people knew about his cane, thanks to his discretion. Unfortunately, some colleagues stumbled upon him using it one night, but thankfully no student. The last thing he needed was a flood of howlers bursting through his window, demanding to know why their child was tutored by a man unable to walk on his own.

Sharp raised an eyebrow but eventually relented. “Fair enough.”

Fig shifted on his spot on the sofa.

“Now, will you indulge me in your observations?”

Sharp sighed,“They were laughing and enjoying themselves, like normal students. No trolls on a rampage, no goblins charging towards them.”

Knowing this particular student, these calm and ordinary circumstances were worth mentioning.

“That’s good to hear.” Fig said, picking up a cup of tea from the table.

For a few moments, both men sat in comfortable silence. Sharp's eyes landed on a small column in the newspaper. 

Missing Merchants 

According to local reports

from the village of

Pick-Upon-Ford, located

in the Highlands near Hogwarts,

several merchants have gone

missing in the span of weeks.

The proximity to the well known

Forbidden Forest is taken into

account by the Ministry, as it

sends Aurors to investigate

further. As of now, no official

statement has been released

by the Ministry.

Interesting. Even more officials in the valley, as if Mr. Osprey wasn’t enough. Knowing the merchants and their routes to Hogsmeade, the probability that their disappearance was linked to the Forbidden Forest was more than likely. He should have an eye on that.

However, no article in the newspaper answered his question concerning the happenings in Hogwarts this morning.

“So, the minor earthquake this morning, I assume you know what caused it?”, Sharp asked Fig.

Professor Fig only rolled his eyes. “Why do you presume I'm involved whenever something happens in the castle?”

“Because you usually are. Except for the Slytherin common room celebrations, that's normally Ronen.”, Sharp stated, closing the newspaper.

A bit uncomfortable with the subject, Fig stood up and started pacing the room, as if he could avoid the conversation, if he just stood behind the sofa.“Mr. Woodruff secured the final repository this morning.”

That got Sharp's attention and he straightened. “Were we under siege?”

Noticing the demeanour of the former Auror, Fig was quick in reassuring him. “No, no, nothing of the sort. Apparently he had a short night and wanted to enhance the -”, he was stumbling over his words. “The, uhm.”

Sharp eyed him, expectantly. “Yes?”

“Protection down there.”, Fig finished, lamely.

The potions master pulled up an eyebrow. “Did he now?”

What was it with Fig and the boy acting like naughty children who have been caught with their hand in a jar full of sweets.

“I suppose he won’t get too much sleep. The boy has a lot of responsibility for a sixth year.”, Sharp said.

Fig smiled sadly. “So he does.”

“Judging by the talk and whispering in the pub, becoming a Triwizard Champion is the last thing he needed.”, a sour tone laced Sharp's voice.

Fig hasn’t really had the chance to exchange opinions with Sharp about the whole situation, so he chose to draw him out.

“Some may say it is a great opportunity for young witches and wizards to demonstrate what they studied for years. He certainly made a name for himself over the last months. The tournament might even distract the locals from the damage done by Ranrok’s and Rookwood’s reign of terror. “

Sharp snorted. “I think it's a coup by the Ministry to unbosom what actually occurred underneath Hogwarts. And I'm taking the liberty to express my suspicions concerning Blacks involvement. I have no doubts that he orchestrated the reawakening of this humbug.”

Fig's face contorted into a mixture of concern and confusion. “Headmaster Black? Pulling the strings? I highly doubt he could manage such an operation.”

Sharp pointed at him. “I'm not saying he's solely responsible, Fig. I'm not a fool.”, 'but Black is’ was left unsaid.

“But he approached me with a rather vicious request concerning the tournament, and I -”

The loud bang of a door getting ripped open interrupted him.

A frantic looking Sirona stepped in, “I'm so sorry to interrupt you. But I need your help.”

Ever the Auror, Sharp got up and immediately drew his wand. His posture straightened, and he looked like he would run past her any moment to duel his way through the pub. “What happened?”

Sirona took a controlled breath and held up a hand. “Calm down! It's no life or death situation.”

Fig, who stood up as well, took a step towards her. “Well, what's going on, then?”

“It’s - hm…you better come and see.”, she exhaled, already leaving the room.

Both professors exchanged a glance, before following her quickly, ready to face whatever has the innkeeper in such a state.

Before they reached the storage room in which the secret floo flame for deliveries and Hogwarts staff was placed, they heard snickering among the students. Several eyes followed them as they made their way down the stairs to the cellar. The snickering from above died down, but was replaced by historical laughter getting louder and louder.

Fig furrowed his eyebrows. “That sounds like…”

Already grimacing, Sirona opened the wooden door with a squeak. Between barrels and boxes, sitting on a dusty chair, was none other than the Keeper of the last Repository, hunched over from laughing. 

Fig and Sharp entered, clearly bewildered by the situation. Involuntarily, Fig's mouth fell open. However, Professor Sharp relaxed slightly, upon realizing that it probably wasn't a life or death situation after all. Although he had Sirona's word, one can never be sure these days.

“Good afternoon, Mr. "Woodruff.", he greeted, stepping closer and inspecting the young man.

Sirona joined him in front of the student, crossing her arms. “He's been laughing without a break for the last ten minutes, and he won’t stop. Something’s wrong.”

Edwin's laughter continued to echo through the cellar as he put his hands on his ribs, falling back into the chair. It sounded more like wheezing, but some sound like, “It hurts…” escaped his lips after all.

Sharp continued to look at the boy, but quickly saw a half-emptied cup of butterbeer standing nearby on a small table. He hobbled over, letting Fig take his place by Edwin.

His mentor stopped in front of him, concern written on his wrinkled face. “Edwin, what happened?”

But it was no use, his protégé continued to laugh and laugh, until his eyes were shining with tears.

Sirona sighed. “It's no good. He can’t get more than two words out.”

Clearly troubled by the situation, she put a hand to her forehead.

“His friends told me they had a few butterbeers, and suddenly he burst out laughing.”

Fig frowned. “A few? How many did he have?”

At first Sirona didn’t answer, but eventually she exhaled audibly. “Five?”

Fig's look shot to the witch. “Five?! Sirona!”

Although butterbeer was low on actual alcohol, the amount of three cups shouldn't be exceeded by minors. Five was enough to make a grown man tipsy, no doubt. But even five butterbeers didn’t explain why his protégé was on the verge of death from suffocation due to brutal laughter.

Sirona looked utterly defeated. “I know, I thought he was with an adult.”

Fig pinched his nose and closed his eyes. “The Durmstrang boy is only seventeen. An ageing potion.”, he explained.

Sirona put his hands on her hips. “Well now, I'm aware of that too.”

Professor Fig turned to the young Ravenclaw, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “Edwin, what were you thinking?”

“Don't scold the boy, Fig. It seems he was the victim of a puerile lark.”, Sharp started from the table nearby. 

His colleague turned towards him. “What?”

Fig was presented with a rare sight. Hogwarts’ potions master, the man who never laughed or lifted his lips to a wide smile, was giggling. Giggling like a first-year.

“Alihotsy Draught.”, he said, once again sniffing on the cup he was holding. The green, reddish shimmer of the liquid, hidden under the foam and the distinct smell, left no doubt.

“Someone mixed his drink with Alihotsy Draught.”

Fig was quick to cover the distance between them, snatching the cup and covering the drink with a drip mat, he grabbed from the table. “Well, don't inhale the fumes.”

He probably would never admit it out loud, but seeing Sharp laugh was somehow more sinister than a stroll in the nightly woods.

Sirona gasped, “That can’t be! I never left the cups unattended while preparing them.”

Sharp, still chuckling to himself, replied. “Children can be sneaky. At least it's harmless. Although, mixed with butterbeer, he is in for an unpleasant couple of hours.”

Edwin, who was still wheezing from laughter, fell back in the chair with a haunted look in his eyes. “Hours?!”

Once again, he grabbed his rips in an attempt to dull the pain from the stitch. “Merlin….no…”

Professor Fig exhaled and put a hand on Edwin's shoulder, trying to give a little comfort.

“Hours, yes.”, Sharp nodded.

“Or I could prepare an antidote to bring the laughter to an end.”

Fig closed his eyes. “Professor Sharp, this is not the right time to finally acquire a sense of humour.”

However, Sharp only chuckled. “We will have to move him to my classroom. I still have some Glumbumble treacle.”

This was all Edwin needed, to shoot up from his sitting position. He would march all the way to London right now, if this would make the laughter stop. Oh, how he missed being in control over his breathing. 

But his quick ascend caused him to sway a bit and the stitch only got worse, now expanding over his whole stomach.

“Whoa, steady now. One step at a time.”, Fig was startled by Edwin's quick motion and grabbed his arm, trying to steady the boy.

The mixture of laughter and teary eyes made him look like an absolute mess. “It really hurts…”

Fig nodded, “Alright, let's not waste more time. We will take care of this, Sirona.”

Sirona could only watch helplessly, “Oh Merlin, I'm so sorry. I hope it works.”

The three wizards made their way towards the Floo flame, hidden away in the corner between cobwebs and dusty barrels.

Amid the laughter, constant groans of pain escaped the Ravenclaw. Obviously, his torso was hurting from the constant strain, and his hands looked like they were glued to his ribs, trying to have a cushioning effect. But it was no good.

Fig saw his protégé struggling to walk, already feeling sorry for him. Couldn’t the boy have one normal afternoon with friends? 

“Give me your arm.”, he said, already taking it, trying to steady Edwin.

One handful of Floo Powder thrown into the flame later, and the three of them entered the potions' classroom. Fig was quick to conjure a chair near Sharp's round table, navigating Edwin, so he could sit down.

The worry painted on Fig's features was mingled with pity as he studied his young friend. Oh, how delighted he had been, when the young Ms. Dubois approached him. Lunch with fellow students in Hogsmeade? It was a refreshing change of activities. He rather heard those news instead of a raided poacher hideout or a busted underground dragon fight club. He never pressed Edwin to admit any of those rumours. Merlin, he probably had enough peers and professors burning up his ears with questions. The last year was no laughing matter, and the predicament Edwin found himself in right now wasn’t either, but the uncontrolled giggles escaping him at least sounded a bit light-hearted.

While Fig stayed with Edwin, Professor Sharp disappeared into his office, mumbling something about rare ingredients.

Shifting uncomfortable in one place, Fig remained standing and silent, unsure what to do. Obviously, conversation was no option. But after a few seconds, he found Edwin's laughter contagious, and couldn't help but chuckle.

It was between said laughter and wheezing that Edwin began to formulate words.

“How do Slytherins enter their common room?”

Professor Fig raised an eyebrow. His days spent in potions class were long, long gone. Surely, Alihotsy Draught only induces laughter and doesn’t muddle one's brain, or does it?

Professor Sharp reappeared with a small basket of ingredients and pointed his wand towards a workstation nearby. With a roar and sudden heat radiating from it, the flame underneath the cauldron erupted.

Obviously, he had heard the question, which the young Ravenclaw said in a few pitches higher than normal. 

“I would advise you to keep the rest of the joke to yourself, if you want to get this over with, Woodruff.”, the head teacher of Slytherin warned with a pointed look.

Edwin leaned forward to hold his rips again, and perhaps to escape eye contact.

“Mr. Woodruff, you are of immense luck today.”, Sharp stated, beginning to throw several plants into the bubbling water.

Fig's eyebrows narrowed, while Edwin hunched over in pain, from the continuing strain.

“Perhaps, you have inhaled a wee bit more fume than I thought, Professor Sharp.”, Professor Fig quipped.

Sharp only shook his head, as he held up the last ingredient, a single vial.

“Glumbumble treacle. My last vial, to be precise. Mr. Pippin hasn’t restocked, and if I hadn't stored it away for emergencies, you would have to endure this for days.”, he vaguely gestured to him with his hand, while pouring the viscous, brown liquid into the cauldron.

“Most people assume that Glumbumble treacle alone can pose as an anti potion to Alihotsy Draught, but it is a common misbelief. In some cases it can work, but our chances increase enormously, if we add the equivalent to a buffer solution first. I hope you are writing this down, Woodruff. It makes a good question for your N.E.W.T.s.”, he rambled on, while bottling the final potion in a new vial.

Between giggles and wheezing laughter, Edwin pressed out a faint, “I don't have my quill on me, sir.”

Sharp actually smiled a bit at that as he walked up to Edwin, offering him the vial.

“Bottoms up, Woodruff.”

Without any hesitation, Edwin clutched the flask and downed it in one swing. It was probably the most disgusting thing that ever touched his tongue, but if this was necessary to stop laughing. Merlin, it was even worse than Professor Fig's Polyjuice.

A few more giggles escaped his mouth before his face fell and his shoulders slumped.

“What - What happened?”, slightly confused eyes looked up at the adults in the room, searching for answers. 

Professor Sharp nodded, “Hm, memory loss can be a nasty side effect. But perhaps it is for the better, that you don't remember everything.”

Edwin, whose mood shifted, as if being hit by Flipendo, managed to look confused and sad at the same time. The sight was heartbreaking. 

Fig cleared his throat and clasped his hands together, “You drank butterbeer mixed with Alihotsy Draught earlier. A potion which -”

“ - causes uncontrolled laughter. Yes, I read about it in the library.”, Edwin finished.

A small smile crept onto Fig's face, “Of course you did.”

“Now that we sorted everything out, you should head back to your quarters. Your body was tense for quite some time. A good night's sleep combined with the potion should help with the incoming muscle ache.”, Sharp explained, keeping a watchful eye on his every move.

Edwin nodded, standing up. He could already feel every fiber in his body, as if a puppeteer would pull all the strings. It was a strange feeling to have no memory of the cause of his pain. Usually he would know why his leg hurt, or his hand burned, and usually it would include a higher risk of death by duel than dying from laughter. If he was completely honest with himself, he really could use a sound sleep. Also, he couldn’t stand the looks of pity on Professor Fig’s face any longer.

“Well, I'll be off then. Thank you.”, he said, before making his way to the door.

“Are you sure you're alright?”, Fig called after him, caught off guard by the situation. His protégé seemed to be quite out of it.

“Fine.”, Edwin said, before disappearing into the Central Hall, leaving his two Professors behind.

“Hm, interesting.”, Sharp mumbled, before using a spell to tidy up the used workstation. 

"Interesting?! Aesop, he can't remember the last hours and is now utterly lugubrious. Shouldn't he spend the night in the hospital wing?”, Fig said, gaping at his colleague. 

“Oh, calm down, will you? He will be right as rain in the morning. Stop fussing.”, Sharp deadpanned, while limping back to his office to return the basket.

Fig followed him and remained standing at the door.

“So he will regain full memory by tomorrow? It would be a shame, if he forgot his first Magical Theory lesson.”, Fig tried to jest, but his eyes betrayed his true worry.

“Yes. Although, I wouldn’t mind him forgetting about his little hiatus with a wild Aguamenti spell last week. The boy usually prepares prestigious potions, and I don't know how much longer I can endure Garreth's disastrous sludge, without at least one excellent potion at the end of the day.”

The older wizard chuckled at that. Teaching was an experiment itself, and the day proved once more that there was more to being a Professor at Hogwarts than preparing lessons. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 20 --  The Theory of Magic

Everything hurt.

Now, he was no stranger to waking up aching all over, but usually, that was because poachers, goblins, or dragons tried to disintegrate him the night before. Those near death experiences made for good fireplace stories, but laughing until it hurt? That wasn’t as impressive- especially when the entire pub witnessed the humiliation.

Edwin groaned and pulled his pillow over his head. He had gotten enough sleep, yet he still felt like a wreck. Couldn’t he just skip the day and start over tomorrow? Couldn’t he just watch the sunbeams vanish from the window and wait for the night to come?

“Up and at them, Woodruff. You don’t want to miss Magical Theory, do you?” Everett called over while getting dressed. 

Edwin only let out a muffled “Leave me be.” into his pillow. 

Amit came up to his bed and gave him a firm shake, trying to rouse the figure buried under feather-filled bedclothes.

“You can’t miss the first lesson, Edwin! What if Professor Fig gives details about the exam!”, Amit implored his friend.

Everett, adjusting his tie, rolled his eyes as he finished his Windsor knot.

"Right, because the exam is his biggest problem today. It’s not like you’ll fail just because you missed reading the two-page introduction to a 300-page book," he said, fixing Amit with an unimpressed look.

Amit stepped away from Edwins bed, shrugging.

“You don’t know that…”

Both of them kept eye contact for a few more seconds.

“Here's the thing, Amit. I do.” Everett deadpanned. He sighed one more time.

“Listen, Romeo. The whole school knows what happened. So what? Pranks like this happen all the time and they're forgotten two days later, because some poor Hufflepuff triggers a stink bomb in a corridor or another Ravenclaw has to sleep in front of the Common Room. Believe me, I should know. Pranks are my field of expertise.”, Everett smiled and his eyes sparkled with mischief.

Amit hoisted his books up into his arms and made a move for the door.

“This speciality definitely will be useful when you apply for the Ministry.”, Amit said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh shut up, Thakkar!”, Everett yelled after him.

Finally, Edwin pulled his pillow away from his face and abruptly sat up. His hair was sticking out in all directions, slightly charged. He couldn’t focus on their faces, because he obviously didn't sleep with his glasses, but he still tried to look sternly at the two blurry forms in front of him.

“Hey! Stop it, you two!”

Everett and Amit had their fair share of clashes, and Edwin was usually the one to talk some sense into them. They all knew their friendship ran deep, but sometimes, sarcasm and bickering scraped at the surface. Today, Edwin had no patience for it—he had enough to deal with already.

Reaching for his glasses, he missed the guilty looks exchanged between his friends. When his vision cleared, he found them both standing by the door, looking sheepish.

"Sorry, mate," Everett said, glancing at Amit. A small smile and a subtle nod were enough to make amends.

Amit smiled, “We are off to breakfast. Are you coming?”

Edwin took a long look at the clock nearby and exhaled. “No, I won't make it in time for classes. You two go, while I get ready. See you in class.”

Amit and Everett made their way to the Great Hall leaving Edwin behind to prepare himself for the day in more ways than one. 

_______________________________

“Edwin, I didn’t see you at breakfast, mate,” Sebastian said, grasping the Ravenclaw’s shoulder as they ascended the stairs of the Defence Against the Dark Arts Tower towards Professor Fig’s classroom. Weak autumn sunlight filtered through the tinted glass, casting golden hues over the slightly breathless students making their way up. Only two Slytherins had a bounce in their step as they caught up to the grumpy-looking Ravenclaw, who clutched his book tightly to his chest.

“Actually, I never saw you at breakfast.”, Ominis mumbled, attempting to lighten the mood. His reward was a light jab in the arm from Sebastian.

Edwin tried to push forward, not in the mood to relive the disguised dig from previous mishaps – like the incident in Potions.

Sebastian rolled his eyes.

“You know, oh great Triwizard Champion, if you would simply laugh it off instead of stomping around like a grumpy pillock, the others wouldn't whisper as much.”

Edwin smirked wryly. “Strange. Somehow, I’m not in the mood for laughing today,” he replied dryly, wincing as he shifted his aching muscles.

Sebastian got really close and Edwin could feel his breath uncomfortably warm against his neck.

“Not even a teeny, tiny smile?”, he whispered. 

Edwin nearly lost his footing as he backed away.

“That was beyond creepy! Never do that again!”, he sputtered, holding up his hand to keep Sebastian an arms length away.

Sebastian laughed and skipped up the last few stairs to Magical Theory.

Edwin sighed and slowed his pace, waiting for Ominis, who was lagging slightly behind.

“You know he’s only joking, right?” Ominis said, stopping in front of him. “I think any mood is acceptable at the moment. The term’s only a few days old, and you already seem to be caught up in just about everything.”

It was peculiar. Talking to Ominis was always different to everyone else. Due to his blindness he didn't make eye contact, which was unusual if one was talking to him or anyone. But somehow it left Edwin at ease. Eye contact always made him nervous, yet another expecting glance, another judging eye movement or pleading look. Ominis was not looking at him, therefore not judging, not expecting. His friend was only listening, and sometimes all he needed in these chaotic times was exactly that. 

“I do have quite the schedule, don't I?”, Edwin joked, smiling vaguely.

“It’s true, isn't it? What the others are whispering about.”, Ominis began. 

A girl in a Beauxbatons sky-blue uniform walked by, flanked by two Hufflepuff girls. They were deep in conversation but kept glancing at Edwin, grinning as they made their way to Professor Fig’s classroom. Edwin averted his gaze, staring down at his shoes.

“You didn't throw your name in.”, Ominis stated, not even asking.

Edwin nodded, before realizing he was talking to Ominis.

“I didn’t. But somebody did, and that somebody wants to see me knee-deep in –”

“Alright, Alright everyone take your seats! We will begin in a few minutes. Every bench should have at least one book.”, Professor Fig’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“We should probably…”, Ominis began, already walking and gesturing to the room.

Edwin pushed up his glasses with a quick motion before following his friend.

“Yes, we probably should.”

_______________________________

He could still remember his first class at Hogwarts. Of course, it was only a year ago, but somehow it felt like decades – enough action for a lifetime. 

Still, he remembers his first steps into Professor Ronens classroom, fascinated by the strange words carved into the wooden walls and the unusual structure of the room. The desks were aligned opposite each other, and the students sat face-to-face. But back then, on that first day, no face among those young, ambitious wizards and witches was familiar, none of those faces belonged to someone he could call a friend. Natty had saved him by inviting him to sit next to her, a gesture Edwin still treasured. 

Since then, she had been his standard desk partner, and together they made a great duo—driven, curious, eager to learn more so they could do some good.

Although, when he entered Figs classroom, his eyes locked onto Natty, who was sitting next to Garreth. His steps faltered. His gaze darted across the room, searching for another seat. Then Natty smiled at him and gestured towards a desk in the second row.

Élodie. 

The only, soul empty place in this whole room was next to her. Why her? Of course, it had to be her.

Fig was a punctual man, and Edwin knew he had to take his place soon if he didn't want to be called out. Which, quite frankly, wouldn't help with his already flushing face.

With a nervous huff, he pushed his glasses up his nose and shuffled towards the second row. He simply ignored the snickering and whispering coming his way from other students, not even listening, because whatever they were talking about, it was probably nothing new to him.

He took a deep breath.

“Is this seat taken?”

Élodie stopped writing in her leatherbound book, and looked up at him and started smiling.

“Edwin! No, take a seat.”

The Ravenclaw tried to avoid eye contact at all costs. He simply couldn't afford to stare into her sweet eyes.

Élodie noticed his awkward fidgeting and chuckled. Amused as she was, she couldn’t help but wonder.

“Edwin, are you alright? I mean, after yesterday’s…” She trailed off. What word would fit in this posh language? She didn’t want to accidentally insult him—or worse, make him feel at fault.

Edwin's head perked towards her, nearly sending his glasses flying.

“Fine! I‐I mean I'm fine, really. Professor Sharp had an antidote.”

Élodies features twisted into sheer horror.

“Antidote?! You were poisoned?”, she whispered vehemently, drawing the attention of several students around them.

Edwin's eyes widened, and he was quick to shake his head and calm her down with his hands held in front of him.

“What? No…”, he whispered back.

Élodie looked at him like he was wearing a Puffskein on his head.

After a few seconds of silence and quiet judgement, Edwin chose to elaborate a bit more.

“It wasn't a poison per say. Someone spiked my Butterbeer with Alihotsy Draught.”, he explained, laughing his nervousness off.

Élodie frowned. “Why? Who would do something like this?”

Of course, there had been pranks at Beauxbatons—every school had its share of buffoons and troublemakers. More often than not, someone would release butterflies during class or enchant bath foam to change colour. A friend of hers, Amélie, had once turned the morning juice into rose petals. But spiking a fellow student’s drink? That was unheard of at her school. Why would anyone want to embarrass Edwin like that?

Once again Edwin laughed it off and straightened his robes.

“I don't know. But no-one got hurt, so – nabocklish!”, he said while holding his side. Apparently even a chuckle was enough to feel his aching muscles.

Élodie, however, raised her eyebrows.

“Nabocklish?”

They stared at each other. If there was ever a perfect example of their conversations, this was it. Looking into her deep blue eyes, watching the way her smile seemed to brighten the air around her, Edwin often felt utterly lost in translation when it came to her.

He blinked. “Oh! Never mind that. I mean, it also means ‘never mind that’...”, he made air quotes with his fingers in an attempt to clarify. 

“But also, don't pay attention to the phrase itself. One of my caregivers in London always used it.”

As if they were mirroring each other's responses, it was Élodies turn to blink at him.

“Your what now?”

Before Edwin could answer, Professor Fig strode down the steps from his office, his robes billowing behind him, a book tucked securely under his left arm.

“Now, everyone, shall we? We wouldn’t want a late start on our first day,” he chuckled.

Edwin quickly sat up straight, eyes forward. He couldn’t have been more grateful for the professor’s interruption—he had been only a few stammered syllables away from breaking into a nervous sweat. With his blushing face, he would have looked like yet another victim of Garreth’s infamous ‘Fire-Breather Brew’ from last year. Needless to say, no one had actually breathed fire that day, and Madam Blainey had ended up with an infirmary full of students experiencing intense agita for the first time. It had been a Wednesday of wonders.

After a quick sweep of his desk, Fig positioned himself before the class, his gaze scanning the students. When his eyes landed on Edwin and his desk neighbour, Edwin could have sworn he saw the professor’s eyebrows wiggle for just a second. He would definitely hear about it later.

Fig took a deep breath.

“Mr. Sallow!” 

Sebastian, uncharacteristically quiet and attentive, felt as though he had been singled out, despite having done nothing wrong.

“Yes, sir?”

Professor Fig smiled and pointed his wand at him. Instinctively, Sebastian reached for his own wand. He had encountered far too many foes last year to ignore his instinct for self-defence. The other students looked on, shocked and uncertain about what was unfolding.

Everett leaned over to Amit.

“Fig obliterating Sebastian on the first day wasn’t in my predictions. I’d have given him at least another week.”

“At ease, Mr. Sallow. But do have your wand at the ready—you’ll need it,” Fig assured him. From the back of the room, an old, weathered hourglass floated gracefully through the air, coming to rest in front of Sebastian.

Professor Fig looked pleased with himself.

“Now, as Professor Weasley assured me just this morning, you should have mastered the transfiguration of an object into a cup last term. Please, proceed.”

It hadn’t been his intention to put the boy on the spot like this. However, from the stories Edwin had told him and the mischief Sebastian had found himself in over the years, Fig was confident the young wizard would rise to the occasion.

With a swift motion of his wand, Sebastian made the sand within the crystalline casing swirl violently, breaking through and consuming the hourglass’s form. In its place stood a gleaming cup with a wooden handle.

“Well done!”, Fig praised him, clapping a few times. Although he must have witnessed this spell over a thousand times by now, his eyes still watched the display in awe, marveling. His enthusiasm for magic and its potential was electrifying and Edwin couldn't help but smile. This was the man who introduced him to magic and if he didn’t know any better, he would have thought he was experiencing it for the first time as well.

Professor Fig stepped forward, picked up the cup, and tossed it into the air, catching it effortlessly with one hand.

“Now, who can tell me how Mr. Sallow achieved this?” he asked, scanning the room.

Amit was the first to confidently throw his hand into the air. Fig gestured towards him with an encouraging nod.

“Mr. Sallow utilised a portion of his magical reservoir, sir. His wand acted as a conduit for his magical abilities,” Amit stated proudly, eager to share knowledge from his latest intense library visit.

Professor Fig chuckled.

“And how, exactly, does one do that?”

Amit furrowed his brow. “Sir?”

“How does Mr. Sallow—or any wizard—cast a spell? As Mr. Thakkar correctly pointed out, a witch or wizard possesses a finite reservoir of magic, which can indeed be exhausted. But how do we move magic from within ourselves into action?”

The students exchanged uncertain glances, confusion evident on their faces. Ominis began to sweat. He had spent hours preparing for this class, yet here he was, unable to answer the second question. Sebastian sighed beside him.

Great. Another class he underestimated. Now he actually has to study.

A smile tugged on Figs lips as he saw his students squinting at their books, some began to flip through the pages as if the answer would magically stand out in golden ink.

Slowly Everett smiled smugly. 

“That's a trick question, isn't it?”, he called from the last bench.

Fig laughed openly at the blunt observation, strolling towards the desk at the front of the class with his hands clasped behind his back.

“What makes you think that?”

A quiet voice suddenly spoke, drawing Edwin’s attention instinctively.

“Emotions and intent are required to channel magic. Both are widely known to influence spellwork,” Élodie remarked shyly.

The room fell silent, all eyes turning to Professor Fig for confirmation.

He gave a warm smile, raising his eyebrows.

“‘Widely known,’ you say, Miss Dubois…”

Élodie’s lips curled into a playful smile.

“Actually, we don’t know.”

Fig clapped his hands together, startling several students.

“Precisely!” he exclaimed, his enthusiasm even more pronounced than before.

“It’s a shame I can’t award points to Beauxbatons, Miss Dubois, but you would have certainly earned some.”

Élodie seemed genuinely pleased, her cheeks tinting pink. Edwin, catching her infectious smirk, found himself smiling as well.

“Well done.”, he whispered. Oh no, she wasn't looking down at her book or away, any other way. Now, she was looking at him. Should he say something? Due to the lack of options coming from his mind he looked straight ahead, catching Fig quickly turning his gaze away from them.

“Some of you should probably write that down in case you forget. We. Do. Not. Know. That's the beauty of Magical Theory. There are no experts, no academic luminaries in this field because in the end we are all on the same page. We are here to theorize. Some mysteries on this earth are not meant to be understood. One can only speculate. A long time ago, humans used to sit around a fireplace and look at the sky, and what did they see? Stars at night, thunderstorms by day and every colour known to nature at sunset. Back then they didn’t have telescopes or weather instruments, and the knowledge of electricity or the colour theory written down by a German author. So what did they do? They sat around the fire and told each other stories. Stories of God's, who would fight all night to pull the sun up with their wagon each morning or swords splintering on iron shields creating flashes in the heavens. In this class we are all sitting around the same fireplace, speculating about a force we are confronted with each day.”, he finished his monologue.

He let the words settle, and the weight of them filled the silence that followed. Naturally, he got the attention of each and every student sitting in his class. No quill was screeching against parchment and no whispering could be heard. For once, even Everett was listening.

Then, with a casual gesture, he moved on.

“Of course, some wizards and witches theorized more than others and came up with some models to explain magic, and we will discuss them – but all in good time.”

He cleared his throat, shifting to his first topic.

“What kinds of magic do you know?”, he asked all of them. A few hands shot up. Finally, the prepared students could showcase what they read beforehand. 

Fig pointed from student to student, letting them name the most important ones.

Dark Magic.

Accidental Magic, which most wizards experienced before coming to Hogwarts.

Beast based Magic.

And, of course…

“Ancient Magic.”, a Durmstrang student listed.

Figs mouth parted as his eyes darted to Edwin. The young Ravenclaw began to shift in his seat, looking down on his parchment, pretending to write along. 

Those who knew about his abilities instinctively glanced in his direction—Sebastian, Natty, Poppy, Amit, and others. At the mere mention of Ancient Magic—a force still regarded as myth by many—a few students quietly drew breath. Unbeknownst to them, someone capable of wielding it was sitting among them.

Before Professor Fig could respond, Leander Prewett scoffed.

“Ancient Magic? Surely not.”

Fig turned his attention to him.

“Care to elaborate, Mr. Prewett?”

Edwin also looked up from his parchment, eyebrows drawn together. 

Leander, rocking lazily back and forth in his chair, straightened up slightly, a smug smile playing on his lips.

“A form of magic no one has seen in years, with funding for expeditions that are doomed to fail? Sounds like a fairy tale spun by wannabe explorers. A colleague of my father at the Ministry is convinced this so-called magic is nothing more than ordinary magic—overrated by less capable wizards.” He laughed at his own remark—a rich, self-satisfied laugh that, as far as Edwin was concerned, could have earned him a place at the table of villainous chuckles.

Disgusted, Edwin tore his gaze away from Leander and turned to Fig with quiet concern. Not many people knew what his late wife, Miriam, had been studying, and Leander had just made it painfully clear he was among the ignorant. The gleam of wonder in Fig’s eyes dimmed, replaced by a sadness Edwin rarely saw in him. But before the class could catch on, Fig turned towards his desk and walked towards it at an unhurried pace.

Through the tense silence that hung in the air, a firm voice opposed Leander’s opinion.

“‘Normal magic’? No magic is anywhere near normal. And who exactly decides what ‘normal’ is? Magic is a force of nature—who’s to say what form it took hundreds of years ago?” Élodie’s words were sharp as she cast a disapproving look in Leander’s direction.

Leander and his equally smug-looking benchmate turned to her, leaning on the table with matching grins.

“And I’m supposed to believe that some ancient magic has been floating around in a fairy-tale forest all this time, waiting for what? A chosen one? The wizarding equivalent of that Muggle messiah, Jesus?” He exaggerated his mockery with wiggling hands, his friend stifling a laugh beside him.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” scoffed the Durmstrang student who had introduced the subject in the first place, shaking his head.

Edwin remained silent, watching Fig’s back, waiting for him to put an end to this spiralling argument. But the older man kept his face turned away.

By now, Natty and Sebastian looked ready to start throwing punches, but Ominis cut in before things escalated further.

“If Dark Wizards exist, why shouldn’t there have been Ancient Wizards?” he reasoned, patting the book in front of him. “There are theories about wizards possessing a different composition of magic. It could be similar to ours—perhaps just more powerful or intuitive.”

Leander smirked. “And if Ancient Wizards did exist, and they were more powerful than ‘normal’ wizards…”—he winked at Élodie—“then they should be sent straight to Azkaban, like any other Dark Wizards. But you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Gaunt?”

The room went deathly still. Several students turned to Leander, eyes wide in disbelief.

Ominis barely had time to react before he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. He knew without looking that it was Sebastian—holding himself back by sheer force of will. If he hadn’t, the boy from Feldcroft would have hurled himself over the desk and settled things the old-fashioned way—no magic required.

Even Edwin clenched his fists at the remark, fully aware of Ominis’s struggles in coming to terms with his heritage. To his left, Élodie muttered a dismayed, “Mon Dieu!”

Before any blood could be spilled, Professor Fig finally turned to face them. His expression was composed, but a shadow lingered there—one that hadn’t been there before.

“Enough!” His voice rang through the classroom, commanding immediate attention. “Enough,” he repeated, quieter this time.

The experienced teacher in him recognised the passion behind the students’ engagement. To most, this was clearly a subject that mattered. As for Leander, Fig wasn’t sure whether he was simply parroting his parents’ opinions or stirring provocation for sport.

“This class should thrive on passionate debate,” he said, his voice measured. “And from what I can tell, most of you have strong opinions on the matter. But in my lessons—and in life—you must never, ever make it personal when discussing your knowledge and beliefs.” He cast a pointed look at Leander, who, to his credit, had the decency to look guilty.

Fig surveyed the classroom, taking in the ruined mood and the remaining lesson time. Everyone was watching him—except Edwin.

With a sigh, the older wizard exhaled audibly.

“I want each of you to write down your thoughts on the subject of ‘Ancient Magic’ before the end of class. If you prefer, you may submit your parchment anonymously.”

For once, not a single student groaned. They simply picked up their quills and began scribbling away.

Beside him, Edwin could hear how quickly Élodie’s quill glided across the parchment, her thoughts pouring onto the page.

So far, he had written only the title.

Ancient Magic.

The ink was a shade of blue so dark it could be mistaken for black.

His opinion. What was his opinion? For the past few months, it had consumed his life.

He felt himself tense, his fingers tingling. He was thinking about it too much—his magic. And he knew what that could lead to. Lately, he had discovered that focusing too intently on it could cause sparks to crackle at his fingertips. Sebastian had once told him his eyes tended to glow when he was concentrating in a fight. And right now, he could feel them charging up.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

Desperate to distract himself, Edwin opened his eyes—only to be met with the words staring back at him.

Ancient Magic.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” he muttered under his breath.

Élodie caught it and looked up from her parchment, which was already half-filled with elegant script.

“Are you alright?” she asked, sensing his tension.

“Of course,” he replied shortly, putting quill to parchment and writing—continuing until the end of class.

When Fig finally announced the lesson’s end, students rose to hand in their parchments. Natty and Sebastian were at Edwin’s side in an instant.

“Mate…” Sebastian began.

Edwin waved him off, stepping into the queue to submit his work.

“Not here,” he murmured.

He was the last to hand in his parchment. As he placed it on the pile, Fig locked eyes with him.

“Come to my office after this,” his mentor whispered.

Edwin nodded. It was inevitable.

Managing to fend off his friends’ concerns, he followed Fig from the classroom. The older wizard pressed the stack of parchments to his chest as they walked in silence. Neither spoke a word until the heavy oak door closed behind them.

Chapter Text

Chapter 21

At first, no one spoke.

Fig made his way towards his trusted desk stacked with dusty books, porous maps, and old artefacts. He threw the pile of parchments onto it without looking. Edwin watched his mentor as he made a beeline to the tea set, his back still turned towards him.

Eventually, Edwin cleared his throat.

“Professor, are you alright?”

A dry chuckle escaped Fig as he prepared the tea.

“That's what I should be asking you.”

“I asked first,” Edwin smirked, taking a few steps towards the table.

“Touché.” Fig made some final adjustments to the tea before turning towards Edwin, two cups in hand. He was balancing the hot liquid with immense concentration when he saw his protégé looking at the parchments on the table. Like a moth drawn to a flame, he was stepping closer and closer towards it.

Professor Fig's eyes widened, and he let go of the two cups, taking a few fast steps. Before his student could catch a glimpse of the words written down in messy ink, he turned the pile over, nearly knocking over his unstable tower of books.

“Don't,” Fig said firmly. Only a single word, but it was enough to convey the message. Don't do this to yourself. Don't invest yourself further into this mess.

Edwin snapped out of his daydream and blinked a few times, as if he realised just in this moment what he was doing.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” he stuttered, taking a step back.

Fig smiled but gave him a pointed look nonetheless.

“It’s alright. Curiosity is only natural. But just this once, I believe you shouldn't indulge yourself further.”

Edwin exhaled audibly before a smile tugged at his lips.

“Can we please ignore the last part of the lesson and talk about anything else?”

At first, Fig wanted to disagree. He shouldn’t let him get away from talking about his thoughts that easily. But the look, this poignant look in Edwin's blue eyes, made him stop. The young Ravenclaw wasn’t suggesting this solely to spare himself the awkward conversation; he was also giving him the opportunity to avoid addressing his odd behaviour in front of class.

Fig chuckled.

“Alright. But for the record, I know what you did there,” he said, pointing loosely in his general direction.

Edwin grinned, walking towards the two armchairs facing the fireplace, which was always lit whenever they sat down to have a cuppa.

Fig followed him, smiling to himself. Moments before disaster would strike, the older wizard put a hand in front of Edwin to keep him from walking straight into the still floating cups of tea, slowly steaming away in mid-air.

“Wait!” he called out, and Edwin came to a halt.

“Take a cup,” Professor Fig offered, in a tone like nothing had happened.

“Thank you.”

Edwin nodded before reaching for the cup of hot thyme tea.

However, before his hand could reach the fine porcelain, blue lightning broke out of his fingertips and sent the cup flying towards the next wall, soaking the pile of papers on the ground in the process.

Edwin immediately clutched his hand, running towards the papers, trying to minimise the damage.

“I'm so sorry, I am so, so sorry!” the young wizard repeated while picking up papers to save them from the flood of hot tea.

Professor Fig could only stare at the scene in front of him, still trying to process what had just happened. He felt frozen in place, but he didn’t get hit by Glacius, did he?

Another bolt of lightning emerged from his hand, and the papers which Edwin had just saved from drowning were now ablaze. Yellow flames consumed messy notes scribbled on worn-out parchments.

The sudden fire hazard in the middle of his office was enough to draw Fig back to his senses.

“Godric's Heart!” he exclaimed before suffocating the flames with a swift motion of his wand.

“Professor, I'm so sorry. The papers—” he began, breathing somewhat heavily.

Fig was quick to wave off his concerns.

“That’s not important now. Are you alright?”

And there it was again. Some time ago, the older wizard saw it for the first time, not quite able to distinguish between mirage and reality. But right now, it was clear as day. Those stormy blue eyes of his young friend were illuminated by lightning. Well, it probably was no real lightning and more likely a form of Ancient Magic, but at this moment, it looked like a thunderstorm was raging inside his mind.

Edwin pressed his eyes shut and shook his head a little, as if to get rid of all the energy and clear his thoughts.

“I'm fine,” he mumbled.

“You are not, and you haven’t been for quite some time,” Fig confronted him. “Your magic, it's raw, unfocused.”

“You don’t say,” Edwin spat out. Such a spiteful tone was quite unsettling when it came from Edwin's mouth. And the lightning in his eyes lit up just a notch more.

Fig studied him quietly, not offended by his unusual tone.

“You have never lost control like this. Not even during the trials. What has changed?”

Edwin's mouth opened, then shut. The young wizard looked down, twitching his hands a bit.

“Edwin,” Fig said softly, taking a step towards him, minding the shards of painted porcelain on the ground. “You must talk to me. I can't help you if I don't know what we're dealing with.”

“I don't know!” Edwin sighed, lowering himself into the armchair, closing his eyes in an attempt to suffocate the storm inside. “I don't know what is happening. I don’t know why it's happening now. And I certainly don't know how to stop this.” Unfortunately for his patience, a small bolt of lightning crackled through the short distance between his thumb and his index finger and made a humming sound for just the fraction of a second. Edwin pressed his eyes shut, trying to keep all the curse words in which came to his mind on this truly troubling day.

Fig watched, his lips pressed in a thin line. Then he approached, and his soft voice was layered with calm optimism, contradicting Edwin’s frantic rambling.

“Then concentrate on the things you do know.”

Edwin opened his eyes, and the glowing was weakening by the second. “What?” he mumbled, sounding more like himself.

Fig let out a shaky breath he didn't even know he was holding. A warm smile spread on his wrinkled face.

“I told you, in magical theory there are rarely facts, but what did your new seat neighbour say today?”

Edwin stared at Fig, and his eyes were clear again, with no lightning piercing through them. He dryly replied, “What a hapless idiot.”

Fig frowned and had already opened his mouth to reply, but his young friend cut him short.

“Well, she said this with everything except words,” Edwin added.

Fig’s eyebrows wrinkled together. “And what, by Merlin's Beard, gave you that seminal impression?” he questioned his protégé with his hands on his hips.

Edwin’s mouth opened, but before he could indulge in more self-doubt, he was cut short.

“Let me stop you right there,” Fig said, holding up a hand as if he would cast a spell which would build an invisible wall to keep Edwin's faulty perception put in words inside his mouth.

Fig took a breath before turning towards the ember of parchments to cast a few charms to tidy up his office after the unexpected brouhaha. Out of sight, out of mind. Wasn’t this the saying? Although he had his back turned towards the comfy armchairs, he certainly wouldn’t forget the boy behind him. At 15 years old he should be battling adolescence, not ancient powers trying to corrupt him or Ministries which force him to participate in deadly games.

“What the charming Miss Dubois said was that emotions and intent are essential to control one's magic,” he stated, waiting for a reaction from the young Ravenclaw. He was sorted into this house for a reason; surely he could figure out where he was going with this.

“You think my intentions have changed? Merlin, am I being corrupted by Ancient Magic?!”

Well, maybe he couldn’t.

Edwin sat there, tense as a drum in the old armchair, and looked at Fig with horror in his eyes.

Professor Fig closed his eyes and sighed.

“No, I don't think you are getting corrupted by Ancient Magic. We've been over this.”

He turned slightly away and held his chin in his hand, clearly thinking about his next words. Just now, he resembled a gambling man in the streets of London, watching a thimblerigger switch his cones and calculating his next move. Determination flooded his mind as he turned around, facing his pupil.

“Alright, I won't beat about the bush. I think you're in love, and you don't know how to handle this. And neither does your magic.”

His words cut through the cloudless sky that day and hit home right here, in his silent, stricken office. Perhaps this was too straightforward.

Naturally, Edwin's face turned through all the shades of red before he came to his senses and stuttered, “I-I am not.”

Professor Fig felt a shiver run through him, like a cold shower on an even colder day. He regretted his direct approach as soon as he saw Edwin's reaction. His protégé, who fought great foes, evil syndicates, and stone soldiers, looked like a little boy, small, surprised, and out of his mind with emotions. Obviously the oldest instinct on this good earth consumed him, and the boy headed for the door with big steps, disappearing to hide his shame. He muttered something about being late while proceeding with his great escape.

“Edwin, wait,” Fig called after him, but it was half-hearted. Deep down he knew that he had overstepped and the young wizard was entitled to slam the oak door behind his wafting robe.

Fig put his hand over his face and took a deep breath for a moment or two. He had overstepped. When he was this age, a few decades ago, the last thing he would have wanted was a professor to call him out on his admiration for a certain Ravenclaw girl. But that is what he is today: a professor, a teacher. Merlin, he was in no position to confront his student like this, in no position to intrude on his private life.

Professor Fig was not known to curse, and he had never let a vulgar word leave his lips in all of his years teaching. But at this moment it was on the tip of his tongue and nearly broke out like a bird which was caged for too long. However, his eyes landed on the single framed picture on his desk.

“Oh, don't look at me like that. I know you would have been better at this—.”

Miriam stared back at him with a kind smile on her face and eyes as wide as saucers. It was on one of her travels. Was it the dense forests of Peru? No, it was on her expedition to the otherworldly deserts in Pakistan. But was this before or after she sailed to French colonies, which she described as heavenly? He would have to look in his diaries and her letters, which he still kept neatly hidden away in a literal treasure chest. But somewhere along her way she stumbled upon this wizard who was working on the most fantastical machines. Muggles were on the verge of inventing those apparatuses themselves when he took a picture of her. A single moment frozen in time, forever sitting on his desk. It was one of the many things she found on her adventures. In the end, all the prized artefacts, ancient knowledge, and scrolls filled with the history of magic were nothing to him—nothing. They had their value, no doubt, and left a mark in her field of research. Additionally, a few museums and collections were richer and wiser due to her discoveries. But her letters, her thoughts, simply her—that's what would prove itself to be invaluable to him.

And now? She was looking at him, and he was looking at her.

“I should go after him, shouldn't I?” he asked her, tapping his foot in a nervous manner against the stone floor. She stared into his soul, with her piercing eyes, her kind smile, and that sparkle of adventure shining through.

He exhaled and nodded his head, as if she could see him. “I should.”

The professor hurried through his classroom but slowed his steps once he approached the slightly agape door.

A soft voice was coming from the other side. “Listen, I don't know what's going on with you, and you don’t have to tell me. But I noticed you in the library the other day and I wondered if you might want to join me? We could study for Potions.”

Fig was sure he had heard this voice before, but couldn't quite place it. He reached for the door and opened it, ready to hurry down the corridor to find a mop of brown hair above the many students in the tower, but he stopped short when his protégé was right in front of him. Rosy cheeks, tense as a drum, and looking up to him like a scared animal.

“Professor…,” the girl next to him, his French bench neighbour, greeted him.

Fig smiled at her and greeted her in the same polite tone, “Miss Dubois.”

Edwin opened his mouth, probably to invent some sort of subterfuge to avoid spending time with her alone. But his efforts were cut off before they even started, because his mentor smiled at them both with his cheeky grin and simply said:

“Have a nice day.”

And with that he was gone, chuckling to himself along the way.

—————————————————————

With no destination in mind, Fig found himself in front of Ronen's classroom. His two students were probably on their way to the library to overindulge themselves in some dusty books, only to pretend not to watch the other every few moments. Young love — it truly is a strange affair.

Although, his dilemma wasn't solved with their obvious rendezvous. Perhaps his feet registered before his brain could that catching up with Ronen was long overdue. After all, Abraham missed the last get-together at the pub.

The sound of chatter and giggling students faded as the huge door creaked open.

“Eleazar! Long time no see, my friend!” Ronen greeted him while unpacking a leather-bound bag on his desk.

Fig couldn’t help but smile at the cheerful welcome.

“Abraham, I was hoping you'd be back. How are the children?”

Upon this question, the Charms Master exhaled and leaned on his dusty desk. “I just arrived from St. Mungo’s.”

Carefully, Fig stepped a bit closer, concern clearly written on his features. “Oh dear, how bad is it?”

“Don't worry, I already did all the worrying,” he forced a smile, but the gleam didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Elizabeth thought it best to bring Adam in. The poor boy was having stomach pains for two days and continued to… revisit his breakfast.”

Fig frowned and showed slight disgust at the unexpected innuendo. “Oh—”

Most wizards his age would think at this point in life one has figured himself out. A widely spread misconception, according to him. To be precise, it was the school year before Edwin arrived, the term in which Miriam was still wandering this good Earth. It was raining, and a storm had surrounded the castle, trapping them all inside. Them being the professors, staff, and hundreds of young witches and wizards up to no good due to a lack of outdoor activities. Black was mere seconds away from calling an emergency staff meeting to keep the situation under control. Thankfully, they all had Deputy Headmistress Weasley, who pointed out that they all would survive a day in the castle without some pupil setting the west wing on fire. Anyway, despite the grounds not burning down to a pitiful heap of ashes and no student obtaining life-threatening injuries, Professor Fig witnessed true horror that day. No, it wasn’t the horrendous attempt of a first kiss by a Hufflepuff in the hallway, and neither was it Headmaster Black's pathetic voice crack when trying to scare off Peeves, who of course was to be held accountable for cracking his voice in such a manner, according to Black. In truth, it was on his way to his chamber. He often checked in on Nurse Blainey to ask if he could help in any way. Most days, he simply didn’t want her to feel like she got locked up in the highest tower all alone. Nurse Blainey was tough, but human interaction was a small gift he could give her. Being her former professor, he still felt like keeping an eye on her wellbeing, especially as an inexperienced matron, was still within his duty of care.

As he entered the Hospital Wing, lightly knocking on the doorframe, he offered his usual greeting. “Noreen? It's me, I was wondering if I—”

He couldn’t bring himself to end his sentence. In front of him was Mr. Clopton hunched over a rusty bucket, vomiting up… snails?

Madam Blainey rubbed circles on the boy's back and tried her best to soothe him as the snails kept coming. Fig, however, fought a battle with his composure and lost. His mouth fell open, and his face twisted to pure disgust. “Oh—”

Nurse Blainey turned to Fig to answer his greetings, but she only saw him clasping a hand in front of his mouth and running off.

It was a stormy day, and the day Professor Fig found out he couldn't stand the sound of others boaking. His wife received a funny letter, which hopefully let her show her beautiful smile, and he discovered something new about himself.

Which brought him back to his current situation, and the shiver that was running over him.

The cheerful response by Professor Ronen let him relax a bit. “But he's all better now. Most likely he ate something rotten, the healers said. They all had lunch at my mother-in-law's around that time. I always said that woman can’t cook.”

The last sentence came out with the sort of spite one rarely heard when talking to the man, but Fig was aware of his relationship — if he could even call it that — with his wife's moody mother.

Usually, while juggling his belongings out of a bag, Ronen's motions were stiff and perhaps a bit too forceful.

Fig flinched. “Still holding a grudge, I see. That’s not like you, Abraham.”

“It's not a grudge if she started it.” Grey eyebrows flew all the way up to his kufi. “She can’t stand me. She couldn't bring a single kind word about me over her cynical, spitting lips since the moment I met Elisabeth. It really must be a grand act of magic if a woman like her can mother a daughter who turns out like an angel. I always wanted what's best for her.”

“You two probably have the same ambitions then,” Fig shrugged, smiling at him with mischief.

Eventually, the Charms Master found his gleeful smile again and couldn't help himself from chuckling. “Naturally.”

Fig cleared his throat, willing to change the subject. “However, I'm relieved to hear that Adam is out of the woods.”

“Me too. A worse fate could always come over us.” Ronen’s eyes darkened ever so lightly, and he spoke nearly in whispers now, conspiratorially. “While I was looking for the right room, I saw a truly unfortunate soul. Merlin, the poor man was covered in gold from head to toe, Eleazar. In all my years I never saw anything like it.”

Professor Fig frowned. “Covered in gold?”

The Charms Master nodded. “The lad looked like a statue. I never came across a spell or potion which could transform a wizard like that.”

Deep in thought, Fig paced a bit around. “The Daily Prophet continues to have outrageous articles about wizards experimenting with beasts and spells. Perhaps the attempt of an alchemist went sideways.”

He remembered the articles and their ridiculousness well, nearly as well as the colorful insults Professor Sharp had for the reckless wizards responsible.

Ronen cut through the silence, sighing. “We can only speculate and hope the healers could help the lad.”

Fig nervously tapped his clasped hands. Ultimately, he turned back to Ronen.

“Abraham? Remind me again, how old is Caleb now? 19?” he asked the Charms Master.

A fond smile appeared on his face. “In fact, Caleb turned 20 last month. Why do you ask?”

Fig shrugged. “Well, I figured you had experience with these kinds of things?”

Naturally, Abraham looked at him as if he had grown a second head. “Eleazar, you're speaking in riddles, my friend.”

“Oh Abraham, I might have made a mistake.” And he began to tell the other man everything that occurred. Would a recapitulation of his conversation with the young wizard have been enough? Perhaps. But he couldn’t stop the words spilling from his mouth. He needed Abraham to be in possession of all the facts before facing his judgement. Well, perhaps not all the facts. He never mentioned the rogue outburst of Ancient Magic in his office, and he never used Edwin's name. Fig wanted to keep it somewhat professional, avoiding feeling like a nosy gossip.

“May I give you some advice?” Abraham gently asked after intently listening for several minutes.

Fig nodded desperately. “Oh, please do.”

Ronen continued to empty his bag. “In my humble opinion, you acted right, my friend. This young wizard, whoever it may be…” he trailed off with a knowing look on his face.

“He has to confront these feelings, deal with them, and learn from them. And perhaps he needed it spelled out for him — a push to risk asking. There are worse things in this world than telling the truth.”

Fig nodded, letting his words sink in.

Abraham grabbed something in his bag, and a fond smile let his eyes glow up.

“Not everything in this world is fun and games, but love…” he gently lifted a framed picture of his wife out and placed it on the corner of his desk. “Love might be the best of them all.”