The sound of the door chimes ringing and a pitter-pattering of eager feet didn't rouse the yellow-blue toad. He was used to being ignored and stopped reacting to customers after the first few days of his stay at Fienier's Familiars. It's been nearly a year since his first day. He tried not to notice how adoraburrs and shadowpaws leave the shop every week, and would instead pretend that the layer of dust gathering on his cage was not affecting his nostrils. If anything, the toad knew that he was lucky to have landed with a shopkeeper who knew how to bake; who would have known jelly tarts were this delicious?
His daily jelly tart pile now only had one last pastry left on top of an array of crumbs. The toad eyed it hungrily.
"I don't want an adoraburr, Callum," one of the customers spoke tiredly.
"Are you sure? 'Cause you'll be away from home and from our da—your dad for ten months, and you'll miss him. They are great for cheering you up, plus," rambled the other customer, presumably Callum, "They're so cute!"
The glow toad wondered if he should eat it now or save it for later.
"Then you get one! I can make my own decisions, Callum." The voice and the sound of footsteps drew nearer.
Perhaps he should eat the jelly tart now, enjoy the golden crust filled with its sweet filling.
"Ezran? Ezran, where'd you go?"
"... you like jelly tarts too?" whispered a voice.
The toad snapped its mouth shut. Looking up, he saw big, blue eyes on a brown face topped with a fuzzy dark mane of hair. This... boy was looking at him—no, he was looking at his jelly tart! He croaked indignantly, flashing red. The boy laughed.
"Hey, it's okay, I'm not going to eat your jelly tart! Although, now that you mention it, I am kinda hungry."
Red didn't revert to yellow and the glow toad croaked again, but the young boy didn't respond this time. He just watched the lizard with interest. Sensing this, the toad's red died down and went blue. He curled his tail around the plate with the tart.
"Ezran, there you are! Don't run away like that, you scared me." Callum, the glow toad observed, was not at all like the first boy, Ezran. Instead of blue, his eyes were olive green and his face was whiter. Instead of puffing up like Ezran's hair, Callum's hair fell down all over his face. Oh, and he was much taller.
"I didn't run, Callum, you just suck at multitasking." The taller boy raised his eyebrows, prompting Ezran to continue. "It could be an adoraburr, a drawing, or Claudia and suddenly the rest of the world is dead to you."
Callum's cheeks burned red and lit up his face. The lizard wondered if humans were part glow toad.
"W-what? Claud-Claudia? Oh no, no, we're—we're only friends! Good friends, close friends! She's very smart and funny," stuttered Callum, waving his hands in the air and looking away awkwardly. Ezran sighed and shook his head before kneeling down to take the glow toad out of its container. Quickly, the toad flicked out its tongue and ate his last jelly tart.
"—good at spells, but all mages cast good spells, so it's not like there's anything more to it or special. But I'm not saying she's not special, because she is—"
The glow toad looked at the boy holding him in confusion while licking his lips. Was Ezran seriously going to pick him as a pet? More than that, did he even want to be picked as a pet? His life at a magical pet shop was not the worst and he got to eat many jelly tarts every day. Meanwhile, Ezran pulled up to the shopkeeper and paid in galleons. The shopkeeper looked bemused that the normally fussy toad was placid in the boy's arms and made no movement to stop the exchange.
"Callum, wake up," said Ezran. He cradled the toad in one arm while reaching for the shop's pamphlet on glow toads.
"—so it's normal for me to like her, she's practically my sister, but not related to me. So my feelings are purely platonic," finished Callum with confidence. Finally, he noticed the situation. His body slumped. "Aaaaand, you chose to get a frog."
"It's a glow toad, Callum."
"Not as cute as an adoraburr," Callum muttered under his breath. He sighed and stood straighter. "Well, we still have a lot to do today, and that's not even counting our stop at Ollivander's. I heard it can take hours to find the right wand!"
Ezran's stomach grumbled.
"Hungry, are we?"
"Can we stop at a bakery first?"
Callum laughed. "You and your obsession with jelly tarts."
"Hey, Bait likes them too!"
"Bait? What, are you gonna use your frog to fish for food?"
"Glow toad, Callum. And dad once read me a story about a glow toad named Bait, who was unfortunately delicious. I think he would approve."
The toad only caught onto the first half of the conversation, relieved. So he wasn't going to lose jelly tarts in his new life. It's not like life at a magical pet shop was the best. He won't be missing any of the other animals, that's for sure. Maybe life will get interesting now. His new owner, the boy Ezran, adjusted his hold and accidentally rubbed a part of his belly. He flipped over automatically and panted happily when Ezran caught on and rubbed his belly again.
"Look, Bait's pink! I think pink means he's happy! He must like belly rubs," Ezran exclaimed. The toad wasn't dumb. Like many other magical animals, he was intelligent. He could understand what Ezran was saying and knew he had finally been given a name. Even the baker-slash-shopkeeper hadn't named him.
Bait.
The toad glowed more fiercely.
Back at Katolis Manor, Lord Harrow rolled up a scroll that his songbird, Pip, dropped off. The contents were worrying, so the lord of the manor sought his closest advisor.
He walked quickly from the open window to the door, entering a hall adorned with a red carpet brimmed with gold and matching tassels. There were three guards in that particular hallway but used to them as he was, Harrow ignored them and walked to the West Wing, only six rooms away from the one he initially was in, his study. Even though it was his study, as the person who had to keep important communications in control, he made sure to be near the manor's Owlery. His brown and bright green songbird looked odd when seen with the surrounding pale owls, but no one dared question his choices. Well, no one except his advisor.
He stopped in front of the third door on the right of the new hall, knocking twice before entering.
"Sarai?"
"Mmph, what is it, Harrow?" garbled Sarai through a mouthful of pastry. A brief look of amusement flickered in Harrow's eyes at the sight of his wife.
"Jelly tarts? While managing," Harrow started, glancing at the papers, "the housing accounts?" Brown eyes curved in an innocent smile. He sighed, wanting to smile back but knowing the situation wasn't appropriate. "Viren sent a letter."
Sarai picked up on his tone and tensed, smile fading. "What did he say?"
"Zubeia and the Moonshadows have met twice in a fortnight." Sarai abandoned the papers she had been reviewing and stood to begin walking around the room. "He says he's heard Moonshadow elves talking about vengeance and most of the population are upset about the lost prince. There's a phrase he's heard them say. A grim one, Sarai." She stopped pacing, pausing to hear him confirm her thoughts.
"A life for a life."
She turned and faced him. "We cannot stay here."
"What do you mean? We?"
"I made a vow to stand by your side no matter what, or do you just constantly forget? Harrow, they are going to try to kill you for what happened to Avizandum and the child." She froze in realization. "Our children." Harrow looked at his wife helplessly, watching as her fear turned to anger.
"They're going to be at Hogwarts, Sarai, they'll be safe there. Viren will keep an eye on them," he tried. Sarai scoffed and retorted, "Viren has different priorities from the rest of us, how am I supposed to trust him with my sons?"
It was true, and Harrow knew that the reason Viren served Katolis was because of their close friendship more than aligned interests. But there was a reason Hogwarts was deeply trusted. "Aaravos is the strongest archmage there ever was, nothing will happen to them under his watch." Sarai's shoulders released some tension but her face told Harrow she wasn't saying something.
"What is it?"
"We can send someone trustworthy to look over them. Put them in the staff."
"There aren't any empty spots—"
"Yet," Sarai interrupted with a tiny smirk, feeling more sure of her plan. "The History of Magic professor is how old? I remember Callum telling me the old man constantly falls asleep mid-lecture. I'm sure retirement will suit him well enough."
Harrow cocked his head in curiosity. "Wait, is it still Binns?" Sarai giggled and nodded, encouraging Harrow to go on. "He's still working there? Oh no, poor Callum," Harrow chuckled, thinking of the hours he had to spend reading with cotton-stuffed ears to not be lulled to sleep. As Lord of Katolis, Harrow had to know history well enough to understand the politics that surrounded his life. He could only imagine how Callum fared, though Callum wasn't set to inherit a heavy title like he was.
He wasn't his, but he was in heart. Sarai had Callum with another man who died before they had even met. Out of respect for his biological father, he never tried too hard to pursue a father-son relationship with the young boy. The results were things like missing the stories that Sarai was told and not being able to laugh with his step-son about falling asleep in History of Magic. The thought sobered him.
"Sarai, I understand your hesitance. There's nothing concrete enough to excuse removing them from school for God knows how long, but the rumors are serious. Who exactly are you thinking of?" he inquired.
"Atarah," she responded, not missing a beat. Harrow blinked. "Your own personal guard?"
"I really can't trust any other eligible person. She's well trained in history and politics. Need I speak for her physical or magical abilities?"
"I am familiar enough," he stressed. It was a bad memory, one of many assassination attempts on the lady of Katolis. Atarah had been part of her entourage, a group of four guards. The other three on the scene were rendered either immobile or unconscious from the serious injuries they sustained. She had apparated back at the grounds where Harrow stood a few meters away before disappearing again. Harrow assumed Atarah had gone back to collect the other guards but when she returned, she dropped a body and gruffly said, "The assassin, my lord." After a few more labored breaths, she clenched her hands at her side and froze, not moving a muscle. When Harrow asked later, Opeli explained she had been conserving her energy in order to recover and still stand guard.
Apparently, the bleeding had been internal as well. The move that had taken out the other guards was an overwhelming pressure spell that broke one guard's spine and cracked multiple ribs of each person attacked. Atarah had five broken ribs and a migraine, and the cuts came from a spell directed at Sarai who was disoriented and had four broken ribs, so she couldn't repel the attack herself at the time. Still, Atarah had dragged herself up, lacerations bleeding heavily from two places in her back where she had been hit, and quickly stunned the perpetrator before grabbing Sarai and delivering her to safety. If nothing else, the woman could endure and her endurance was something Harrow was incredibly grateful for.
He didn't know much of her or what happened with her after that, but since she was the only one in the group who returned to Sarai's guard and appeared more constantly than anyone else, he guessed Sarai had befriended her and then promoted her to personal guard after Amaya left her side to deal with the Sunfires. This in mind, he closed his eyes in acquiescence. After all, she had chosen well.
"Very well, I trust your decision."
"Yes, but you also need more protection. This place is too conspicuous and staying will only endanger everyone else here needlessly. I trust Gren and Corvus to handle things here until this mess passes. I've still got a safe house near the borders of Lux Aurea; that would bring us closer to my sister, which would be nice if Atarah won't be by my side. I guess asking for Viren's input for this part could work as well—as long as no dark magic spells are involved."
"You might just be asking for too much of him now," Harrow joked. Sarai walked up to him and put her arms around his head "I think he can be persuaded this once." She kissed him gently.
"Ah," Harrow exhaled after pulling back. He licked his lips mockingly and teased, "Jelly tart. My favorite." He grinned at her responding giggle.
Atarah was simply too busy to not take her days off seriously. She didn't resent her job, but neither did she take a reprieve for granted. After all, Commander Gren's angelic personality didn't hold back during training. There were days where her wand hand would be out of commission and Gren, upbeat as ever, saw it as an opportunity for her to become adept at using her non-dominant hand for spells like she witnessed him and General Amaya do multiple times.
She was pretty sure Gren was only pushing her limits because he felt like he owed it to his absent general, to make sure the person who replaced her as her sister's guard was good enough for the position. Atarah knew Lord Harrow's personal guards weren't pushed like this, and neither were the non-specialized mage guards, but they weren't directly under Gren's command and standing in for his commanding officer's sister like she was. It's probable that Gren also didn't want Amaya to kill him if Atarah only had endurance and lacked enough skill, no thanks to him. She was sure of her magical prowess before training with the commander. However, the exercises he made her do would initially leave her sore and irritated because she wasn't fast enough or strong enough. It was a humbling experience she was grateful for, but one she still hated.
There was also physical training, to prepare her should her wand become compromised during an attack. As if things weren't troublesome enough with magic helping her. Take it away and she felt like a fish out of water; she was a stranger to hand-to-hand combat, and that's not mentioning weapons. Humans could only rely on magic so much until their wands fail them in one way or another, and then they could truly be called ordinary.
Elves don't have this issue; they can naturally use their bodies as a conduit for magic and use wands to heighten their control and power. Even if you took their wands, they could still hex you to next Saturday if they wanted. Physical strength wasn't really their priority since evolution didn't demand their bodies to make up for their magic as it did for humans. Thus, nearly all elves were lean beings, some taller or shorter than others, but all were missing the natural, bulky muscle mass found in the race of men.
As a woman, Atarah just above the average height, a compact figure that was 183 centimeters tall. Her body hardened with muscles after three years of training with Gren, but it seemed impossible to erase the bulge at the bottom of her stomach; though her abdomen was now more defined, her insides still required space and her muscles seemed to have developed on top of them respectfully. Multiple whitened scars appeared on tan skin, speaking of past pain and battles. She wished she could describe her facial features, but after seeing them all her life, they looked normal to her. People would say they wished they had her lips, but Atarah didn't understand why. Her most prominent facial feature was definitely her eyes, which was often called "slanted" or "cat-like" or many other interesting adjectives to state her obvious mono-lidded look. Lady Sarai got similar comments towards her own eyes, though they were more pleasant versions than the thoughtless ones Atarah received.
Physical training wasn't all she was told to do. To give her a break but still have her work, she was ordered to listen to the latest political events, to be able to best provide her Lady thoughtful counsel should she want it or to make the right decisions to protect her. Trust is hard to come by outside a family or sect, most of all in Katolis as it remains the oldest and strongest family of the human race, so even tedious lectures were taken seriously by the human mage.
Yet once every four weeks, Atarah was given a day to manage her affairs or rest. Since her life and friends revolved around her job, she spent her free days resting in the manor instead of visiting people. Though, the manor, like the Owlery, was a severely outdated term. Perhaps it was a manor when Katolis decided to settle in the Western lands hundreds of years ago. Now, with more and more people joining the grounds and families multiplying by the generation, the original manor had been expanded upon and refortified. It now resembles more of a castle than a manor, but hard-headed traditional nobles refuse "to part with their history," and Lord Harrow wasn't fond of dealing with them so he let them have that much. Lady Sarai constantly made sarcastic comments on it, stopping only at her husband's silent behest.
Today, Atarah was dressed in a dark muted green dress. The skirt had two slits on the sides from the waistline and down but purposely overlapped to give an illusion of a complete skirt under which she had hidden personal paraphernalia. Nothing was flowy and no design decorated the top piece. It was perfectly unexceptional, matching her agenda to have a calm day. She put her hair up in its customary braided bun, compact and secure. Black boots were mostly hidden by her skirt. They were her most casual but action-ready footwear; guards—especially personal guards—are never really off-duty.
Two mage guards on patrol talked about their breakfast, reminding Atarah about the emptiness in her stomach. She went to the kitchens to amend that fact and came upon a scene of two children and their mother.
"And when I grabbed it, it started glowing!" Ezran expressed with a wave of his arms. Nearby, a yellow-and-blue lizard Atarah had never seen before lit up to mirror the boy's words. Lady Sarai's eyes softened and she smiled lovingly at her youngest son. Noticing the woman in green, she stood up from her chair, said good morning, and offered to ask the cook to make a meal for her.
"My lady," Atarah said and inclined the upper half of her body down quickly. Then she straightened up. "There's no need to bother the cook, I just came for some moonberries and cheese bread. Good morning, Callum," she inclined only her head. "Ezran." Another respectful nod to the second child.
"Hey, Atarah. How come you're wearing a dress?" Before she can respond, another voice beat hers, quicker than what politeness dictates.
"She's a girl, Callum."
"I know that Ezran, but she's usually wearing light armor. I'm just wondering why she's not wearing it today."
"She's on her day off, Callum," Sarai supplied. "And she wants to eat, so let's leave her alone and finish packing your luggage to make sure you both have everything ready for Hogwarts."
"Again?" they groaned simultaneously. Sarai didn't change her facial expression, unrelenting and motherly. "Again."
They moved from their chairs and went to her, and she led them to the West Wing of the manor-slash-castle where their rooms and luggage were. Callum and Ezran trailed obediently after their mother, already beginning a new conversation about school. It seemed like they forgot the previous verbal pokes at each other and having to redo their suitcases for at least the second time. The brothers smiled and walked with renewed vigor, making Atarah shake her head in amusement and familiar bewilderment she associates with their behavior. Five years of her life were spent protecting Katolis, offering her service in exchange for a bed and daily food. Even as a regular mage guard, Atarah witnessed the boys grow up. The two shared a bond most siblings lack, let alone half-siblings.
Callum, she had always noticed, was willing to do anything to be a good big brother for Ezran. He pulled through his negative emotions the moment Ezran's eyes watered and never hesitated to pull his little brother in for a hug. Any time she could, she would humor Callum, who had grown curious of magic and would try to talk to the mage guards to learn. In some ways, Atarah could be considered his first magic teacher, even with their meetings and lessons being as limited as they are. The firstborn of her Lady took to magic more quickly than anyone else she knew, and there were times when his memory and skill would shock her and make her think it wouldn't be long until she would have nothing left to teach him, but Callum already developed this image of Atarah as a senior mage he looked up to. It was adorable to see his joy when he finally got a wand and cast his first spell. At the time, Viren had been visiting Lord Harrow and brought his children with him. His daughter, Claudia, had shown off her developing magical skills, effectively making an impression on Callum who experienced his first lady crush.
Ezran was less social than Callum, playful in nature and mischievously so. He preferred spending time in the gardens of the manor, where Atarah knew he knew she and several other guards would stand and watch from discreet locations. Times when he would disappear made her anxious, but she learned quickly how to pick up on his moods and pay close attention to his movements when he leaves his place. The other guards were in different spots than her, so she didn't bother alerting them to Ezran's movements and was one of very few who could keep up with the child. Still, thanks to him, Atarah was aware of secret passageways and hiding spots scattered throughout the grounds. Paired with his older brother's intellect and talents, the two were a menace and pulled off pranks on the mage guards, giggling until one of their parents would rebuke them for disrespecting the people who protected them. Even if their actions lacked logic and confounded her, Atarah recognized the genuine friendship they shared. It endeared them to her and made her want to protect their innocence that much more.
After her berries and bread snack, Atarah spent her day trying to not do anything. She couldn't completely control the way her overworked body automatically kept itself moving or how her eyes kept checking and rechecking her surroundings, reviewing notes in the back of her head on blind spots and where the safest part of the room was. But even this was relaxing compared to the actual job. She ignored her mind's ramblings and lounged on the branches of a willow tree behind the manor. Her legs swung back and forth on both sides of the curved arm of the tree on which she reclined her body. After a while, her stomach grumbled again. One eye opened slightly to check the time. The sun was still up in the sky but its westward journey across the blue expanse was nearing completion. Supper was set up for the noble family at this hour, and seeing no harm in taking some food from the cook's meal, Atarah swung down from the tree to infiltrate the East Wing's kitchen and eat.
Stepping through the window, Atarah made for the table the cook used to set the plates up with food, feet carefully moving without a sound. Before she could cross the room, however, a hand grabbed her arm and flipped her over. She turned on her side midair and crouched on the leg closer to the ground, which poked through the side slits of her dress.
"Respectfully, Commander Gren, I hate you." Her position allowed her to face her assailant, whose freckled face stretched in a well-worn smile.
"I knew you'd be here. You were gone almost all day, so it was only a matter of time before you remembered your humanity like the rest of us and came here to eat. Seriously, you suck at taking care of yourself," the man teased. Atarah pursed her lips, knowing he was right but unwilling to give him the conversation he wants. He knew this, of course, and went on like she wasn't silently fuming. "I had people search the grounds for you. The lord and lady have requested an audience," he began but was cut off by Atarah's groan.
"Gren, it's my day off. I only get around twelve a year; tell me it can wait," she complained. She didn't censor her feelings, and no one ever asked her to, since everyone knew it was justified and her job schedule was grueling. Even Gren was given two days off, doubling his breaks. He sometimes felt guilty about working her too hard and pampered her on her days off as a reward, but this time he wouldn't relent.
"They have requested an audience, Atarah. It's urgent."
His tone was more authoritative, causing her guard personality to kick in. "Where?"
"Lady Sarai's working quarters. I'll let Lord Harrow know."
With that, Atarah spun on her foot and went to go outside to avoid needlessly long and winding hallways. A wrapped package flew through the air, and she caught it with her right hand.
"It's food. You know, the thing you initially came here for? Remember that?" Atarah looked at him with narrowed eyes, her gratitude turning to unsurprised annoyance. He chuckled and left the room. The woman followed suit, exiting through the window and scaling the outside walls with ease.
She unwrapped the warm package, breathing in the smoked salmon and cooked vegetables. There was no spoon to eat it with, but also nobody around to judge her as she used her hands. Satiated, her hands crumpled and pocketed the wrapping as she ran across the roof. Her mind took note of the lack of guards as something to fix tomorrow. When she reached the roof of Sarai's office, she swung down to the ground from the edge of the roof. She tucked her body in to roll out her momentum when she hit the ground, going until she was in the position to pop up and stand. The smooth stone brick ground was somewhat blocked by the thick materials of her dress. The place was guarded by four spaced-out guards, but if they noticed her drop from the roof, they made no comment.
Calmly, Atarah brushed off dirt on her and walked through the concave opening to the West Wing's backdoor: the laundry room. It was busy and most of the servants wore white aprons over their clothes, but Atarah's dress wasn't too bright or dark to contrast greatly. Those who saw her respectfully moved out of her path, recognizing their lady's guard. Some greeted her politely but kept moving. She didn't mind. She went down the hall and up the stairs there. The rooms in the West Wing generally lacked windows since most were private rooms or bedrooms of the noble family. The rooms of the boys were on the second floor and had small windows, while Harrow and Sarai shared a master bedroom on the third floor with thin windows that connected to another room for leisure with an elegant balcony. The point was to make bedrooms secure from window break-ins and offer a sense of security for the family.
At last, her feet stopped in front of a door. Atarah raised her hand and knocked in a distinctive pattern. Inside the room, the sound of a chair scraping the floor and quiet footsteps bled through the door. It opened and revealed Sarai's face.
"Atarah, come in."
She followed her charge and closed the door behind her, feeling slightly silly acting like a guard while wearing an incredibly common dress but was conditioned to obey her lady.
"I assume Gren finally found you. Has he told you what this is about?"
"No, my lady." Sarai crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. Atarah's passive face twitched and then broke into laughter. The lady of Katolis shook her head in exasperation.
"It's not funny, you know I'm not used to customs of the nobility," muttered Sarai. Atarah knew this, finding it hilarious when her lady would at times not respond to the title and then whirl around in surprise when Atarah moved into her line of sight and tapped whatever object was nearby—but never her lady—to get her attention. Sarai explained it as not expecting to hear the title when not in public and representing the family, but Atarah was still amused.
"Even after twelve years of it?"
"Yes, even after twelve years," she responded, but for some reason, her voice lost its playfulness and sounded somber at the end. Atarah furrowed her brows.
"Sarai, is everything alright?" A question she knew the answer to, but formalities were formalities.
"Atarah, you've done so much for me and have proven that you are willing to do whatever it takes to protect me; I trust you, and that is why I am asking you to protect my sons." Atarah nodded, taking it to mean that Sarai was informed of a nearing attack on the family (the usual), but Sarai shook her head and raised a palm to indicate her guard wait. "I need you to protect them at Hogwarts this year as the professor of History of Magic." Atarah's lips fell open but she closed them quickly and bowed.
"As you wish, my lady," she said, but something must have sounded off in her words because Sarai sighed and sat down in her desk's chair. "You must have questions. I promise they will be answered, but we have to wait for Harrow to arrive. In the meantime, help me clear the other chairs for you and Harrow to sit on."
She obliged her, taking the piles of paperwork and moving them to a small table against the wall. As Atarah was arranging one chair to be next to Sarai's and the other chair to be a respectful distance away facing both of them, the door opened. "Ah, I see you've already started," Harrow commented amiably. The mage guard settled his chair and walked to her own. "Thank you."
She nodded back.
They were finally all settled and Sarai started. "We've received word of an attack organized by Zubeia against the children, but nothing concrete. We cannot take them out of their school without further certainty, but regardless it is not a concern either of us is able to ignore. Her people hold a deep, serious grudge against us."
"What do we know of their plans?" Atarah inquired.
"She's colluding with Moonshadow elves," Harrow answered, "but we don't know anything more than that."
"Understood." Atarah hesitated. "They hold a grudge against Lord Harrow, too. Is it wise for me to leave your side? The school is protection enough. They have wards against harmful spells and Archmage Aaravos keeping watch over students and staff. You do not have that kind of defense."
"It is true that the school is well-defended," agreed Sarai. "However, Moonshadow elves have their mysterious ways. Out of all the elven races, they are the deadliest. A night with a full moon could be all it takes. Aaravos is busy dealing with a multitude of things. If he is but a second late, they could already be dead. I need you to be there and make sure none of that happens.
"Harrow and I have already decided to leave to the Banther Lodge near Lux Aurea. I will reach out to Amaya, stay low until the situation blows over. Gren and Corvus have been informed and agreed to manage things here."
"A teacher?" she questioned.
"Professor. Of History of Magic."
There were definitely problems with that. To have a job as a professor, you have to have gone to school and received excellent notes on your N.E.W.T.s for the subject you wanted. Atarah had learned history through politics, books, and narrated stories in unlikely places, not in a school. She was not even sure her existence was documented prior to her employment at Katolis, and she told them as much.
"My family has kept ties with Aaravos for many generations, and I am well-acquainted with him. He's not the kind of elf you'd expect him to be from his status and power. We just have to arrange a meeting with the two of you for you to convince him you're worthy of the job," Harrow informed Atarah.
"Not that you have much to live up to, considering the current job holder," Sarai added to help Atarah relax. "You don't have narcolepsy and are at least half a century younger, very promising." The woman nodded slowly, taking in the information. It sounded very appealing, honestly. As a professor, she'd have weekends off every week and seasonal breaks. Sure, there'd be many teenagers to supervise and deal with, more specifically the two brothers.
But Gren wouldn't be there.
"You can count on me, Lady Sarai," she said after a few moments of silence with a slight bow. "Lord Harrow." And again another nod.
"I will send Aaravos a letter about an applicant for the job and arrange a meeting three days from now. Given the special circumstances, you are off-duty for the remainder of your stay here before leaving for Hogwarts." Her heart soared and suddenly she didn't mind the interruption on her free day. "On the very off-chance you aren't accepted, none of your regular days off will be affected." Sarai looked at Harrow and they exchanged a silent agreement. They stood up at the same time and Atarah followed their movements closely. Sarai smiled at her.
"Thank you for this, Atarah. It means a lot to me."
The guard bit back sarcastic remarks about not really having a choice to turn down a "request" from the lord and lady of Katolis, opting to nod obediently instead. She took her cue, bowed once more and left out the door. In three days, she was likely to be gone from the manor for a long time. There wouldn't be any eating the cook's food anymore or seeing Commander Gren. Atarah would like to say she had friends she will miss and that will miss her, but out of respect, no one really talked to the lady's personal guard, and out of wariness, no one befriended the outsider with the slanted eyes.
Gren didn't apply to either of those, seeing as he was Atarah's superior and also the most non-judgmental person to have ever existed. He was the closest thing she had to a friend, but he hid too many parts from her—or rather, reserved those parts of himself for his true best friend and confidante who happened to be absent, influencing his slight dependence on Atarah. This loneliness was easy to face by constantly being on the job, but she wondered if things will change with more time to herself at Hogwarts. For now, Atarah focused on going to bed and worrying about how she was going to convince the best archmage in history that she was capable of teaching and handling a classroom. Perhaps it would be wise to ask Callum for advice.
She reaches her room, which is across the manor's grounds in the East Wing. It's small but better than the barracks the regular guards shared. Being a personal guard had some perks. Her arm reached out to open the door and then close it and activate the metal deadbolt. Sitting down, she takes out the crumpled food wrapping in her pocket from earlier and tosses it into the bin against the wall in her room. Her boots slide off her feet and she unties the thin bags at each hip holding things that pockets simply weren't big enough for, placing them in the first drawer of the night table next to her bed. Right when she went to lie in her bed, someone knocked on her door.
"Who is it?" Atarah called out loudly.
"Atarah, it's me, Sarai." The voice supported her claim but Atarah still peeked a look through the one-way eyehole. Seeing the lady standing there, she undid the deadbolt and opened the door. Sarai entered the room immediately, bypassing the normal invitation and causing Atarah to feel uneasy. She closed her door anyways and faced the noblewoman standing in the middle of her room.
"Don't worry, nothing is wrong, there are just a few things I want to tell that I didn't want to say in front of Harrow. He has his own opinions, and I respect that. I just happen to have my own that I think you should know."
"Sarai, you know I would not judge you or question your decisions."
"Yes, and I thank you for that. You've truly become someone I can trust deeply over these past years, Atarah. I came to warn you about a professor there. You've met him already. Do you remember Viren? He and his children Soren and Claudia came over once some years ago, and the children go to Hogwarts as well." The guard nodded to let her know she knew who Sarai was talking about. "Viren is the Potions Master at Hogwarts and teaches the class.
"Don't trust him.
"He has a way with words to catch you off your guard and make you believe him, the worst kind of Slytherin. But he also practices dark magic and concocts unnatural potions. I'm not sure what his true aim is, but I wouldn't let him any closer than I could hurl a spear. Harrow is convinced Viren is loyal to Katolis, but they grew up together and Harrow is biased. Do not trust him with the safety of my sons, Atarah."
"My lady..." Atarah started but found herself unable to continue. Silence was wiser than speaking against Lord Harrow or Lady Sarai.
"There is someone else: the matron, Madam Opeli. She is the nurse, an excellent healer and also a close friend like you. If you ever need help or need to contact me, she can be trusted." Sarai's eyes were sincere and Atarah took her words to heart. Without another word or nod for formality, Sarai left the room.
Night had fallen, and the moon hung in the sky. In a forest of trees surging with magic, there was a small clearing bordered with tall trees whose branches shadowed all but the center of the clearing. The darkness further obscured six hooded figures standing in a ring around the center. Arms grasped each other in a weaving lock. In the middle, illuminated by the moon, stood a regal being with pale silver hale gracefully tumbling down past their waist. Blue hands disappeared into shadow, linking themselves to the circle of limbs. They began to emit a swirling glow, brightening with every response given.
"Will you, Moonshadow elves, swear to secrecy and never directly or indirectly tell a soul about any future murder attempts on Katolians?"
"We will."
"And will you fight for me and Xadia with your heart and life?"
"We will."
"And should I order you to take a life... if anyone endangers the completion of our end goals... will you carry out my orders to the best of your abilities?"
"We will."
A/N: Her name is a-TAR-uh but I have seen other web sources that say it's pronounced AT-er-uh. If there's anyone who knows the more common pronunciation, please make it known in the reviews or message me, either is fine. Also, her height was based on the heights of female characters in the show, so it might seem really tall but the girls/women are around her height (which is approximately six feet for my American readers). The dialogue in the fourth scene was paraphrased from the sixth Harry Potter movie, so not completely mine but I did modify it on my own (duh). Setting up the story is necessary, so it'll be a while before our favorite Moonshadow assassins interact with the other characters. Feedback and constructive criticism are appreciated, not flames.