Dumbledore's office was situated behind a large gryffin statue which opened out to a spiralling staircase as he approached. He smoothed a hand through his hair as he stepped onto the first step and the staircase began ascending.
The room was a strange octagonal shape; Hogwart's previous Headmasters lining the walls. A face he recognised stood out to him, Phineas Nigellus Black, his Great-Great-Great-Grandfather; he had never seen a living portrait of him, he had only seen him in an album of his Father's of the Black family tree.
When he arrived Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen as he walks in, but besides his desk sits a phoenix, looking very worse-for-wear. Hunter ponders how long the poor bird will have until the molting stops and combustion begins; as far as he can tell it could be anytime now. Just as the thought crossed his mind flames burst from the bird, bright and encompassing, eventually falling to nothing but ashes.
As the small, newly born, phoenix starts to poke its head out of the ashes, Hunter is reminded of the grounds back at Durmstrang. Two phoenixes chose to make their home there, willingly allowing students to study and observe them as part of their studies. He knew this baby would like the comfort of a helping hand in its first few minutes.
Once the bird is strong enough to stand, the door behind the desk opens and the Headmaster steps out, "Ah! Mr Lupin, my boy, I am delighted you decided to join me this evening." He settles himself on the highbacked chair and gestures Hunter to the seat on the other side of the desk, "Sherbert lemon?"
"No, thank you, Sir," Hunter declines, eyeing the yellow sweets suspiciously before shifting his attention back to the older man, "I would like to make one thing very clear to you before we begin, Professor; I am very much aware of my rights surrounding privacy and safety. I know that you, Sir, wouldn't have breached these rights intentionally of course, so I am willing to ignore this lapse in judgement on one condition."
"I am no danger to you, my boy," the Headmaster defends, but still he takes the bait, "but what condition would that be?"
The impassive mask that hides Hunter's true feelings has been perfected since he was seven, it doesn't waver as the elder wizard's eyes twinkle back at him, "My condition, Headmaster, is that you swear an unbreakable vow that any conversation that we have, or any information you learn about me, is not repeated to anyone, without my consent."
Twinkling eyes begin to burn as Dumbledore takes in the shock of his request, "I certainly don't believe that necessary for a conversation over a cup of tea, Mr Lupin. As far as I am aware, these extremes aren't commonly used so casually in Eastern Europe either."
"Well then Professor," Hunter stands from his seat, dusting his hands off his trousers, "I suggest the next time you decide to have an unsupervised 'chat' with a minor who is not in your care," he pauses, "you are prepared to answer to the foreign authorities."
Dumbledore stands from behind the desk, "Is that a threat, boy?"
"Of course not, Sir," His smile a carbon copy of his fathers, "merely just a suggestion. It is simple really, you take the oath and we can get on with that chat, or you don't and I leave this room without a second thought. The decision lies with you."
"Mr...Lupin, I have information that you may find interesting. Are you sure you would like to give that up?"
It occurs to Hunter just how much of the upper-hand he has over the professor, as he recognises Dumbledore's attempt at scaring him.
He knows that Dumbledore suspects who he is, thanks to Severus. He knows that Dumbledore is unaware that he knows. And he also knows exactly how to play Dumbledore's little game.
"Oh Professor, any information you have is not news to me," he leans in close putting his hands on the desk, his voice barely louder than a whisper as he stares deeply at the old man, "You may rest assured that my secrets hold much more value than your own."
He throws another dazzling smile over his shoulder, the charming facade back in place as he opens to door to leave.
"Goodnight Sir. Please do think upon my proposal, I feel it would be of great benefit to your... cause."
Back on the boat, Hagen's office is full of worried faces, having allowed the Malfoy's to floo in to figure out how they were going to deal with 'the Dumbledore problem' as it had been coined. Although they knew that Hunter was perfectly capable of keeping everything that needed to be hidden in check and that his temper had simmered down after years of training, the dread still made a home in the air around them.
Draco and Viktor were the only two seated, with Hagen, Severus and the Malfoy's all stood huddled together talking quietly. More than one person was startled when the door suddenly opened and a grinning Hunter strutted through it. His smug look disappearing into a grin when he took in the occupants of the room.
"Mother!" He exclaims, throwing his arms around her in an embrace, before pulling back and doing the same to his Father. He finally took a full step back, brows furrowing, "but... what are you doing here?"
"Hagen invited us, darling," His Mother explains, "we all need to agree on how we want to deal with Dumbledore." Her face pinched at the name.
"I expect the meeting went well?" Lucius asks, bringing attention back to the most current matter.
Hunter looks a little sheepish, a large comparison to the smugness that was rolling off him before, "Well I think it went really well... but he didn't agree to the vow, not yet at least." He turns to his Headmaster, "Do you happen to have your pensieve, Sir?"
Hagen nods and flicks his wand at a cabinet by the wall, the instrument in question floats onto the desk as Hunter extracts the memory of his visit with Dumbledore, placing it gently into the pensieve. He watches as they each disappear into the bowl-shaped device, leaving him alone in the office.
His familiarity with pensieves and memories stems from James and Remus taking him into memories of his parents, particularly his Dad. Even Severus would allow him to look into some of his memories of his Mum, though not as often or as many as his other Uncle's did. Sirius and Lily Black's legacy lived on in him and he was immensely proud of that.
This musing was cut short by the memory ending and everyone reappearing from the pensieve. Most of them had no expressions giving away their thoughts, but his Father was the exception, he looked smug.
"Lucius," Narcissa admonishes playfully, "wipe the smirk off your face."
"Oh, Narcissa, did you see our boy? Did you see Dumbledore's face? Absolutely phenomenal." He turns to Hunter, "Well done, you hold all the power; use it wisely."
Hunters cheeks flame, "Thank you, Sir."
The adults once again huddle together to discuss what they watched, but Hunter has had enough of anything remotely related to Dumbledore and makes his way over to the other boys. Viktor slaps his back while Draco hi-fives him, the smug grin making its way back to his face.
Using the upcoming 'Weighing of the Wands' ceremony that he has to be a part of tomorrow. All three of the champion's wands will be inspected to make sure they are adequate for competing by Mr Ollivander, who had made his and Draco's wands specifically for them.
"Oh, my- Mum, Dad, what if Ollivander recognises me," He stands from the position the boys had settled into in alarm, "He made my wand specifically for me, you even said he thought it was one of the best he had ever made."
His Mother looks at him softly, "Ollivander won't remember your wand Hunter."
"You can't know that Mother, he might-"
She stops him, "He won't remember the wand or you..." she pulls a necklace decorated with what looks like a crystal pendant from behind her blouse, "because I took the memories from him."
Hunter wakes once again, screaming and thrashing from a nightmare, with Viktor straddling him and pinning his hands above his head.
He'd dreamed of a faceless woman this time, stealing the memories of him from his family. Each confused face of someone he loved physically burned his chest, deep in his heart.
Viktor looked pale and shaken when Hunter's eyes could focus enough to see him. He still trembled with residual fear, but he was no longer fighting against Viktor's grip. Slowly, he brought his hands from above his head and rested on his chest, as he did both boys flinched simultaneously; Viktor is anticipation and Hunter in pain.
"You were clawing at yourself in your sleep," Viktor explains quietly when Hunter's hand lifts, covered in blood, "I- I tried to stop you..." Viktors eyes well up, "But you were too strong, it took me almost half an hour to get your hands off your chest."
The boat shifts and the moon suddenly lights the room up through the window, highlighting Viktor's face.
"Did I do that?" Hunter asks, his finger gently brushing Viktor's lip, which was split and bleeding.
He looks confused for a second before reaching up himself, "What?... Oh, I guess it must've been. I didn't realise." He shakes his head, "We should wake Draco, you- your chest needs looked at, it looks deep."
"Don't worry about it," Hunter says, murmuring some cleaning and then healing spells over first his chest and then Viktor's lip; his chest still red-raw, but at least not actively bleeding. Once the pool of blood is out of sight, Viktor's body sags from the tense position it was in, falling onto the bed at Hunter's side.
Rolling over, Hunter pulls him close so his head is resting on his chest, right where it's still tender. Draco may be his best friend by chance, but he chose Viktor, and he would forever be grateful for him.
The next morning found them still in that position, Hunter had drifted off quickly in the exhaustion of his episode but to Viktor sleep didn't come so easy. He lay awake staring at the red marks ripping across Hunter's chest, watching that he was still breathing evenly, terrified he was going to wake up again and hurt himself.
Neither boy mentions anything the next morning, breakfast and their shared classes were quiet affairs, up until Hunter had to leave for the ceremony. Draco didn't even look up from his potions essay when he bid his brother good luck. Viktor gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he packed up his things.
Hagen joined him at the classroom door and they made their way to the empty classroom they were invited to. The small room had a chair for each champion and their headmaster, while all the ministry officials and a reporter mingled to one side.
Hunter took his seat between the two other champions, with Hagen on the seat behind him. His headmaster looked rather small compared to Madame Maxime of Beauxbatons.
While observing the room, it seemed that Fluer had been observing him. He smiles at the French girl, putting out his hand for hers "Enchantée," he raises her slim hand to his lips, "Comment vous sentez-vous? Propos de tout cela?"
Her face showed her shock at his use of her language, "Oui, ca va bien! Je suis excitée avec les possibilités du tournoi!"
"While I am enjoying the sounds of the French language, some of us don't actually speak it," the Hogwarts champion, Cedric whispers, leaning over Hunter.
"My apologies, Mr Diggory, I was just enquiring about how Miss Delacour felt about the tournament, how are you feeling, yourself?" Hunter sits back, now with a clear view of both the Champions.
"Please, call me Cedric, and I don't think it's really sunk in yet, it's such a huge thing ain't it?" Cedric smiles, "Then again, it is very exciting, I-"
"Welcome Champions!" Dumbledore interrupts, raising his hands towards the small group, "I'm sure you all know the purpose of this ceremony - Mr Ollivander here will be inspecting your wands to ensure they are in working order. Ms Skeeter is also in attendance with us this afternoon for her column in the Daily Prophet."
The rest of the room's occupants had settled themselves on the rest of the seats opposite the champions, arranged in a semi-circle. He began to recognise some faces such as Barty Crouch Senior and Ludo Bagman, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, and the Head of the Division of Magic Games and Sports respectively.
Mr Ollivander sat in the seat directly in the middle of the half-circle, slightly closer to the Champions with a table in front of him. He was an ageing man, looking a lot older than when Hunter had met him ten years ago.
Cedric was called forward, presenting his wand handle first to the man, who took it gently, "Ah, I remember when you first came to me for your wand Mr Diggory, 9 inches, Ashwood, tail-hair of a Unicorn. Yes, yes, a combination suited to yourself." He gives a little swish and sparks fly out of the tip of Cedric's wand, before being returned to its owner.
"Miss Delacour, I see your wand has lasted you well," Ollivander says, as he inspects the intricate design of her wand, "While I usually do not use Rosewood or Veela hair in my wands, your Grandmother's request for this custom wands was one I enjoyed greatly." Bubbles tumbled from the tip of hers.
Hunter's turn brought back the worry he had for being recognised, but he didn't let it show. He presented his wand to the older man, "Mr Lupin, the only Champion I have not had the pleasure of meeting." The old man turned his attention to the wand in his hand, "An odd combination this wand; Hawthorn, Veela hair, ten and a half inches. Who made his Mr Lupin?"
"An old friend of my mother's, Sir." It wasn't exactly a lie but more a half-truth.
"Hm," Ollivander brought the wand up to eye-level inspecting it closely. He turned back to Hunter, "I suppose to the right wizard this wand could be incredibly powerful." He flicked the wand and above his head, an abundance of stars appeared aligning in a way very familiar to him- the Orion constellation, also known as The Hunter.
He accepted the wand back and made his way back to his seat, hoping that the spell was just a coincidence. Whether it was or not, Hunter couldn't let his surprise show on his face. He smiled at Fleur as he sat down.
Mr Ollivander concluded that all three wands were in perfect working order and fit for competing. Dumbledore said a few more words about forming strong relationships and whatnot before releasing the champions back to class.
Both Cedric and Fleur stopped to speak to him when they got into the hallway. "You're wand Atticus, it is Veela hair, what line is it descended?" Fleur asks, her French accent pulling her I's.
"My family on my Father's side has the blood of the Alarie line, a distant relation to your Grandmother I believe," Hunter replied, knowing that Veela lines are not as well recorded as the Pureblood lines are and that neither of the Champions would care enough to research and double-check. It wouldn't matter soon, either way.
Cedric looked confused, eying Hunter sceptically, "You don't look particularly Veela, respectfully of course."
Hunter chuckled, "No I don't, I take my looks from my Mother's side I believe."
He bid them farewell and made his way back down the corridor. A new period had begun for the Hogwarts students not long before so there were still a few stragglers running around, trying to avoid being too late.
A familiar dark-haired Slytherin caught his eye sitting out in the courtyard, bundled in a jacket. The book on Theodore's lap kept his attention as the other boy sat down beside him, looking over his shoulder.
"Advanced Herbology? I didn't peg you for a gardener, Nott" He bantered, the shorter boy finally looking up from his book.
He smirked dryly, "Well I suppose it could come down to your hot and cold moods, you're a very hard person to get to know, Atticus."
Hunter breaks eye-contact, knowing he's been pretty lousy recently, "I know, and I can only apologise for my recent behaviour. I've had to come to terms with many things about myself these past weeks." He replies, thinking about both his sexuality and his knowledge of meddling wizards and the prophecies they hide.
"Hey come on," Theo pulls on his arm, "I was only joking around. Anyone with eyes knows you've got a lot on your plate."
Hunter turns his head back, noticing how close their faces are, "Even so, you deserve more than that, so I apologise."
Theo tips his nose slightly in the air, his eyes connecting with Hunter. His eyes remind him of the trees which surround the castle back home; they're not black as he once thought, but instead, a rich brown, speckled with gold.
"Don't apologise, Att." Theo was closer now, "I hope your soul searching gave you the results you were looking for."
"It did."
Hunter couldn't tell who leaned in first but his mind came alive when their lips met. Theo's lips tasted like cinnamon and pears; warm and sweat. The moment cut too short for his liking when the other boy pulled back, grinning.
For the first time in weeks, Hunter's smile was genuine.