Harrow woke up with Sarai out of their bed and had half a mind to go back to sleep and leave his wife in Atarah's care. She stood sentry behind their doors with the watch every day as part of her responsibilities as the personal guard of Katolis's Lady.
And then he remembered that they had given the mage three days off.
Something that was born when the King of the Dragons died, the fear of losing someone important, stung his heart. Harrow flung the covers aside and left the bed. He slipped on his red and golden robe, stepping out the door after his wife, feeling foolish but hurrying all the same.
As soon as the door opened, he came face-to-face with Atarah, who was dressed in her armored robes a fair distance from where Harrow stood. Behind her was Sarai, peeking owlishly at her husband, who stared back in bemusement.
"See? He rises immediately after you, my lady. Most likely attuned to your warmth and movements, and unconsciously responding to them."
"You just woke up?" he asked, perplexed. Sarai's eyes curved at her guard's words, but there was a blush on her cheeks that gave away her take on the subject.
"I finally woke up before you, figured I could do something else to rub it in," she drawled, her sly face contradicting the still-present flush. Upon noticing the stubbornness of his wife, Harrow smiled fondly.
"Such as?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
The couple began to look at each other intensely and Atarah automatically shuffled back, making the most of her boots' charm to make a silent escape a few meters away as the two embraced each other, sharing the first kiss of the day. There usually weren't many; mostly, the two much preferred to tease the other instead. It was something about their dominant natures finding pleasure in getting their partner to submit first. However, both were equally whipped, and they had a habit of submitting simultaneously, which onlookers found adorable and dubbed as their bond. Atarah was probably the only one to pick apart the reasons for their behavior and find amusement that they never really made the other cave in before they did.
"Great, now you made my guard run away," Sarai mockingly complained when they separated.
"You know as well as I do that she's more likely watching in the shadows," the dark man retorted, adjusting his hold on the bold brunette to walk side-by-side in the halls. Atarah let out a confirming huff. "I thought she would take the day off we offered. We did take away some of her time yesterday."
"You do realize how these changes are affecting her routine, right?" Sarai spared a glance sideways, and her face fell flat at the sight of her husband raising an eyebrow at her. For all that Harrow looked out for his people, he had a habit of missing the small things. Fortunately, he had her.
"Harrow, Atarah has been in service at the 'manor' for five years, and for more than half of that time, she was my guard. The most social downtime she could have gotten is with the staff. But even then, becoming my personal mage guard would have severely limited what little interaction she had with others. With her quiet personality, it's inevitable that Atarah would accept not being social and make her job her life.
"Just yesterday—yesterday, Harrow—we asked her to take on another job that will require substantially more social interaction in a completely new environment away from what has become her home. You shouldn't have expected her to gain a new personality or adapt so quickly."
At that, Harrow looked ashamed and flushed. Sarai sighed and took pity on him, leaning her head on his shoulder and rubbing his arm to comfort him the way she knew her well-meaning husband liked. Inside, she admired her husband's trust for her to never judge him or stop loving him when he displayed his imperfections. That more than made up for his shortcomings, which she loved anyway.
Atarah listened without reacting. Her Lady was correct, of course. She may have honed the skills and trust necessary to defend the boys, but a teacher she was not. Raw information, albeit enough to last several school years, was all she had concerning qualifications for the position as a history teacher. She had no idea where to begin, or if she would even be able to create her curriculum. Would the school ask her to stick with Binns's curriculum? What would her classroom look like? How many students and classes would she have to talk to?
Stop, Atarah told her mind firmly. She looked on blankly at the Lord and Lady of Katolis, marveling at their mundanity. Those two were in charge of so much; their responsibility was great, and hers as a guard was to protect them. Her identity was largely based on their lives. Her friends were their staff. Her breakfasts were often their untouched parts of theirs. Her clothes were from their manor's collection: her silence and trust, all theirs. When she separated from them, she would separate from herself, as well.
She smiled when she noticed the two weren't headed for the kitchen after all. The embroidery on the curtains turned into a more delicate and detailed pattern of lace, as was befitting of the heirs to the House. Other decorations on display progressively grew more expensive and ornate as the hall went on, but the difference was slight. Not many would pick up on the shift, certainly not the mischievous boys who knew about as much as their mother about such pleasantries and were as accustomed to them as their father to the point that they didn't even understand their appeal.
Atarah always hated overhearing Katolians badmouth the heads of the House and their children, who were the most down-to-Earth people she knew. Callum still believes his red scarf is fashionable, and Ezran spent more time outdoors on the ground than the average adoraburr; superiority wasn't in their vocabulary. Their parents made sure of that.
Even now, they went to wake their children up and share their morning break with them. These leaders, who told her less than twenty-four hours ago that Moonshadow elves were plotting to kill them and who upheld the lives of over two thousand people, wished to spend their free time with their sons. They made it easy to want to protect them and their close ones.
Sarai stopped before their doors, making a hushing sound to Harrow, who nodded with a smile. A gentle wake up. His wife smiled back, a gleam in her eyes as she took a key out of her pockets and swiftly slipped in through the unlocked door. There was a loud thud followed by a shout.
"HAHA, WAKE UP SLEEPYHEADS, YOU DON'T WANT TO BE WAKING UP LATE FOR YOUR CLASSES WHEN SCHOOL BEGINS!"
"AHHHHHHHH!"
A sigh. "I thought we agreed to not wake them up with loud noises."
"What!? Dropping the book wasn't that loud!"
"I wasn't talking abou—" he started but cut himself off. Two young boys groaned and saw their mother grinning at them and standing in the door connecting the wall between their rooms. "Well, what's done is done." Then, as an afterthought, "Though, you boys should get used to waking up earlier. It's already a quarter past seven."
"But dad," the youngest whined at the same time his older brother complained to his mother. The volume picked up a bit again, and Harrow couldn't help feeling a little out of his element but in a good way. Usually, Sarai took after the boys and slept in while he rose relatively early (meaning somewhere around eight o'clock) and worked on getting his mind ready for his day. Today she woke up first and with so much energy, thrumming with life. Moments like these showed him his actions were worth the consequences.
Harrow was certain he did not want to live a life without his wife.
It's not an incredibly dark or shocking thought to have. Their power and lives are often threatened. Maybe he would continue for his sons, possibly for his people, but living without her light would undoubtedly undo him.
He knew this moment should not be tainted with more dark thoughts and looked at Sarai again. Her face was glowing more, as it usually does when her sons enter the room. He still didn't do his morning meditation or fully wake up, and in his hazy mind, all he could process was a simmering love for the family he had. They were all so lovely, and he felt warm inside... so warm...
And he began to nod off.
"Mom, I think you need to wake up dad."
"Wasn't he just telling us we should be awake at this hour?"
Soon after, the family broke their morning fast together. Atarah noticed the new team of female mages now shadowing Lady Sarai. The message was clear: her Lady was ordering her to take leave of her duties. It stung to see them, though. She was not sure what else to do if not guard. Her friends were busy with their jobs and she had no hobbies she wanted to do now, but she obeyed Sarai and left. Sticking to what she knew best, Atarah decided to prepare for her future mission. There was a checklist she made while being told her latest orders. She hoped to get a new wardrobe to prepare for her interview with the most powerful mage in the world and the possibility of becoming a professor at Hogwarts. Now, since she feared taking the time to accept the change, she decided to tackle the list and distract herself.
Atarah walked down the halls to her room and closed the door after her. Murmuring a spell, she drew off her charms and accessed the previously hidden fifth drawer. Inside was a variety of sealed documents with an unassuming pouch shoved into the corner, its material blending in with the interior of the drawer. She grabbed it, rummaged through its contents, and withdrew a golden, embellished key. She reversed her actions until the drawer was once again concealed. Atarah straightened up and slipped the key into the pant's right pocket. Her hand dusted the dark material of her suit, picking at it and wondering if she should change. Reluctant to do so, she left the room locked behind her.
The mage thought of who to ask for pointers on what a professor should wear to school. For some reason, Gren flashed through her head, but just as quickly, the idea was discarded. Her best bet was Callum, who actually attended the school now and could offer the opinion of a student. Despite his horrid, personal choices of fashion, Callum always had a good eye for art. She could trust that, at least. Traversing the halls once again, Atarah walked to the courtyard where the familiar, earthly path to Ezran's hideout started when she came across her objective himself standing amongst visitors.
In the middle of the stone brick grounds, a dignified man stood with a silver staff in his right hand. His robes were gray and black but with an enchanting design that spoke of his status. His body was framed by sharp edges of the outermost robe, going strikingly well with the equally imposing staff. The only color that stood out was the purple centerpiece of the staff. It was a gem cut so fine, it seemed illuminated by the sun's shine and captured it. This was a man of great import, but Atarah couldn't spare much more than a few moments upon noticing Callum was lively chatting with a taller girl.
It was clear from her dark and embellished clothes that she came with the man, but the rest of her outfit screamed non-magic. The tips of her dark hair were bright purple, and she wore bold silver jewelry and chains around her neck and wrists. A bag hung around her frame, though the straps were slim and suited her well. The nails on the hand batting air away as she laughed at something Callum said were painted black. She looked to be around his age. Atarah quickly glanced at the older man again and then closed her eyes momentarily as she remembered. Sarai's words flashed in her head.
Without waiting for a second more, she pivoted, drew on her authority, and walked to the nearest guard on duty at the arch.
"You, soldier."
A quick glance at her more ornate armor gave them all the information they needed. "Sir."
"Escort the visitors to the main hall. Be an example of Katolian hospitality." Atarah looked away in a wordless dismissal. They took the hint. Hastily, they approached the pair speaking with the eldest son of Lady Sarai.
"Greetings, Lord Viren. Is this your daughter?"
At once, the girl twirled to face the newcomer, Callum's entire face reddened, and the older man somehow stood straighter and politely smiled.
"Yes, this is—"
"Claudia of Del Bar, his daughter! Nice to meet you." Her mouth awkwardly stayed agog while maintaining a cheery face, and it seemed like she wanted to keep talking but didn't know what words to use. She settled for giggling and doing a toothy, sheepish smile.
"I am a mage of Katolis and servant of this House. We were not expecting you, but please, follow me. I will escort you to Lady Sarai and her husband." Both nodded and walked next to each other just slightly behind on her left. Callum fumbled with his stance but quickly made to leave as well. Thankfully, he was a beat off of the other two and too shy to assert himself alongside them.
"Callum, I need to speak with you. Do you have time?"
Shaken from his internal dilemma, Callum immediately nodded and piped up, "Hey, Atarah. What do you need?"
"It's just something I wondered about if you don't mind humoring me," she responded calmly while walking forward. He copied her movements, and then they were walking along the path to Ezran's favorite hideout.
"Callum, you've attended Hogwarts for two years. Can you enlighten me about the wardrobe of a professor? What do they generally look like?"
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh, that's it? Their robes can look like anything they want, but all the professors I know cover up. Well, not their arms, but everything else, yes. Why do you want to know?" he asked with playful suspicion.
"I'm not familiar with the dress code, is all. I mean, I think I know what they wear, but my imagination comes from books and not real life. I suppose you mean to tell me there is no uniform or rules, just an expectation of not showing much skin. I'm not opposed to that." Atarah said all this wistfully with her head cocked at an angle to the right and oblivious of Callum's incredulity.
"Hold on, what do you mean you don't know what professors look like in real life? Did you not go to school?" he asked with animated hand movements.
"Not exactly. My education was... unconventional, I suppose. Nothing like going to Hogwarts. I realized I didn't know and wanted to ask you for your help. Callum, you're an artist with a great photographic memory, and you care about the details. Would you mind describing or drawing examples so I could learn more?"
"Oh, yeah, of course! I already have some sketches of my professors," Callum said proudly. Atarah gave a small smile, though its scarce appearance made it that much brighter. She sensed his curiosity turning into suspicion, so she gave him something else to be distracted by and it worked like a charm. Adorable little raven with too many questions and wondering about anomalies. He turned to lead Atarah to his room where he left his sketchbook. Suddenly, images of a bloated Viren and ostentatiously dressed Lujanne flashed in his mind, and he backtracked. "Oooon second thoughts," he began nervously, "I think I lost them. I'll just... I'll just make new sketches."
It was no big deal. Callum spent his whole life drawing; it felt as easy as writing to him. Easier, still. He described the professors while drawing them, mentioning how the staff was predominantly elven and that they often paid homage to their House through color designs and details on their clothing.
"And they customize their clothes to represent who they are. For example, if you were a professor, I think you'd look a little something like this." The teenager flipped to a new page and casually drew an accurate outline of Atarah. He went to work on the top, starting with a collar with details from...
"Are you using the curtain design from the castle?"
"It's a manor," he answered automatically. Then he continued, "and maybe? Why, what's wrong with it?"
She gave him a look.
"Too much? Too much, okay, got it." He erased most of it and drew a basic baroque pattern. "There. And..." he drew puffy sleeves that ended with a tight sleeve, marked by the same design as the collar. "Nothing that drapes around your hands. Oh, and I know exactly what the skirt would look like!" After quickly darkening the lines following her waist, he enthusiastically drew long, sloping strokes on both sides past her hips, connecting them to form a long skirt mere inches above the supposed floor. Returning to the rounded top part of the skirt, he drew a band that ruffled out on top of the skirt and once again added the baroque design from before. Then, he drew the folding lines of the skirt.
"See, the bottom part is detachable! The ruffles hide it. Unclip it from the band on your hips, and bam! Mobility increased! You always wear pants, both in uniform and in casual wear, so I figure you'd wear pants as a professor too. You can access the pant's pockets through a hidden slit in the skirt's folding." While explaining it, he added six buttons in the top's center and drew the design on them, two buttons per row. He finished, satisfied with his vision. "This is totally your style: a formal approach that doesn't abandon practicality."
Atarah gazed at the dress-not-really-dress with interest. "The drawing is lovely. May I keep it?"
"You mean you like it?"
"Yes," she replied truthfully. He must've had people often ask him for his drawings because he only shrugged before tearing the page out and handing it over to her. She thanked him and stood up, feeling slightly relieved that she knew what she was looking for, even if she was not sure where. Callum, however, already knew too much and Atarah felt it best to not bring up the topic of her leaving her position to go with the two boys to Hogwarts. It is a can of worms best left closed while the family was enjoying their vacation. Let Callum think he was sating her curiosity. No need for lies.
She headed back into the castle—too big to be a manor—and rerouted to another exit to stave off suspicion from Callum. If he saw her leaving while clutching a design of her clothes as a professor, the Ravenclaw wouldn't have any trouble putting two and two together. Atarah retrieved a burgundy cloak from her room and folded the piece of paper into a small square. It was slipped into the same pocket as the key. Her pants were bulky, and the cloak disguised the vague outline of the objects. Some of her friends in the castle staff saw her and exchanged pleasantries before heading their way. It was strange to realize that she would suddenly not be here. It's not like she was a hidden figure in the system; she often stood beside the lady of the House. And now, she was headed to prepare for her leave.
Outside the castle, lots of houses surrounded the building. Families of public servants and noblemen generally made up the population. Occasionally, there will be tourists who wish to view Katolis Manor. Street vendors made the most out of the busy schedules of workers. Establishments targeted wealthy residents. Atarah walked past all of them, to the border enclosing the grounds. She slipped on her mask, which was easily recognized and respected by the guards, and left without an ordeal. With a few more steps past the boundary, she slipped it off her face and then gripped her wand, as it was always kept in her sleeves. She concentrated and Apparated outside Gringotts.
For a second, she felt disoriented. The loud noise of Diagon Alley enhanced the ringing in her ears. Still, there was no puke or fainting spell. Satisfaction flooded her body; she trained to be this tolerant. She could only improve.
Smooth columns towered over her as she stood in front of the entrance. She willed the after-effects of Apparation away and pushed the double doors open. A long and high-ceiling hall went on to a raised desk of sorts, where a goblin sat going through records. Apart from the groan of the doors, her presence was accompanied by silence. Her footfalls were muted still by the charm of her boots, and no word or hum left her. She reached the desk and said evenly, "I would like to access my vault and make a withdrawal."
"Do you have your key?" the goblin replied at length, finally looking up from his work. Atarah wordlessly handed it over. He called out to a coworker who then led Atarah over to the cart that would lead to their destination. She sat next to him, minding the sharp turns and staying still in her seat. The cart stopped abruptly, and her guide announced, "Vault 724." She waited for him to open up the vault with his hands and the key. The ornate door's machinations came to life and whirred open. She stepped inside and moved to her piles of galleons, pocketing four piles to the enchanted left pocket. She moved onto her sickles, taking two piles and two more piles of knuts. She reinforced the feather-light charm on it and then left. On her way out, they returned her key.
The woman left Gringotts and secured her pockets to protect them from pickpocketers and cast an additional charm to be ignored by others. She walked along the right side of the alley, stopping midway at Madam Malkin's. She constantly hears of her friends purchasing robes from here, and even Sarai referred to this shop when shopping for her sons. Plus, it was conveniently close to Gringotts, and so she entered, removing the alienating charm.
From the window display to the interior space, the whole shop was cramped. It seemed that having a robe for all occasions limited the walking space to view said robes. A short and stout woman walked into view.
"A new customer! Welcome to my shop, dear, please look through the merchandise. My shopkeeper is absent today, so it's just me. I hope something catches your fancy. If you need me, I'll be over there." She pointed to a crowded area she was no doubt organizing. Quickly, Atarah spoke up.
"Actually, ma'am, I was hoping you could tell me if you have anything that looks like this?" She dug out Callum's sketch from her pockets and unfolded it. Then she handed it over to the elder woman.
"This is a marvelous sketch, dear, you're welcome to apply as a designer here. The proportions are realistic for once. This isn't a dress you've seen somewhere else, is it? It's certainly not one of mine. Are hoping for a custom-made dress?"
"Yes, please."
"It'll cost you more and take more time."
"That is fine. Will you do it?"
"Firstly, explain the design and colors to me. I'll make sure my assessment of your measurements are accurate and once we come to an arrangement, I'll name my price."
So Atarah rehashed the explanations of the skirt's hidden slit within folding, red and gold Katolian color scheme, and detachable skirt. Yes, the buttons are just for decoration. Yes, she'd like inside pockets wherever possible. She'd prefer the material to be thick, near-indestructible, and light. The clips are to be metal, please. No, additional charms are not necessary. The price was twenty-eight galleons, two sickles, and four knuts to have it ready in two days, though the short woman murmured that she's giving her a discount since it was her first order in her shop. Atarah bought another simple dark gray robe from the store, just in case something came up and she had nothing else with which to go to the interview.
As she left the cluttered store, she felt proud that such a big unknown part of her shopping was handled well. Now, she only had to stock up on quills, ink, and journals among other things. The sun hung in the sky, reassuring her that there was no rush.
When Atarah left, Callum decided to be productive and practice his wandwork. This was definitely not because he was trying to impress anyone.
Of course, even if he was, there's nothing impressive about the charm spells he was doing. Levitate this; now let it down gently. Turn the green leaf into a white napkin. The most foolish-looking one: make light appear at the tip of your wand in broad daylight.
He knew that the guards and mages sanctioned throughout the grounds worked out and trained for physical and magical disputes. Even the ones who dealt with the rest of the populace instead of guarding the manor knew cool spells and contributed to society every day. Meanwhile, he, the step-son of Lord Harrow, was still riding a metaphorical magic bike with training wheels. He was living in a building that held a treasure trove of books filled with obscure knowledge about duels and potions but wasn't allowed access. Everyone thought him too young and not ready, but with passing day Callum felt that was just a big lie. He's proven his adept spellwork and memory recall time and time again to counter their claims that he had to master his magic level before advancing. More and more, it felt like they were just against him, the step-prince. He was hopeful that this year, his third year, he can make a breakthrough.
In the school year before, Callum brought up his problems with theoretical DADA classes with his professor. He sympathized with Callum but argued that the rest of his classmates grew with this curriculum better, that Callum is an anomaly in a system where human mages usually are only ready for dueling spells after their fourth year and so he can't change or speed up his lessons for one student. In his defense of theoretical learning, he brought up a strange subject: ancient runes.
Perhaps Callum managed to annoy the normally level-headed man with his persistence, and so his professor mentioned it out of spitefulness, or maybe he felt like tossing a bone to a relentless pursuer. Either way, he said something like, "Talk to Professor Kazi to take their course as an elective next year. Study of Ancient Runes is also a theoretical subject, though I daresay that if you are as attuned to magic as you say you are, you can be the first to channel the power of the runes in hundreds of centuries. Be the first bloody human Archmage."
Ancient runes essentially was a powerful and primordial alphabet, pre-dating human written records by approximately five hundred years. Thanks to heavy researching done by a now-renowned group of Moonshadow elves, they managed to conjure up scenes of how the runes were used, reading lips and observing throat movement to determine their sounds. From there, it was all conjecture. They've been categorized into elemental groups based on their power's effect. Some are still in use by those learned in the area of knowledge—like Kazi, a multi-linguist Sunfire elf—, primarily the moon (no surprise there) and sky runes.
Callum wasn't putting too much stock into conjectures and theoretical subjects, but his DADA professor planted an idea in his eager mind, and it was already taking root. Ancient runes was a topic of hot debate when they were discovered, something Callum vaguely remembered hearing Binns going over. People were ambitious, specifically humans, to do more research and tap into the power of the runes. Others (mostly elves) argued that the power of the runes was mostly destructive and should not be pursued. In the end, the interest died off when humans found they still required wands to do runic magic and no rune of great power was found. In other words, this was another dead end and lesson that told him and everyone else no, you can't do it. This isn't for you, you'll never be ready.
Give up.
The boy heard those words enough to understand no one had the right to tell him that. He was already set apart from his peers, finding magic to come easily to him. Once, he'd peered into an upperclassman's Transfiguration textbook and mastered the inkwell to fluttering, metal bug spell within the hour. He wasn't impatient, he was literally born ready. Hopefully, this year would end the wait for exciting magic.
"Do I get to learn that?" Ezran asked loudly. Callum realized he was still technically in the vicinity of Ezran's safe place. He hadn't deactivated lumos and still stood there in the middle of the courtyard among the flower pots he was levitating. Promptly, he coughed in favor of ignoring how surely the guards nearby witnessed him zoning out and making angry facial expressions.
"Yeah, I can show you right now if you want."
"Oh, I left my wand in my room." Callum's thoughts halted. As his older brother, the first thing that came to mind was—
"Ezran! Never leave your wand out of the same room you're in, that can be dangerous!"
—to lecture him. He didn't let his personal achievements cloud the facts: humans are less adept at magic than their elven counterparts. At Hogwarts, house and race rivalry made it rule number one to always have your wand on you at all times. Panic of what could happen to his kind, little brother if he left his wand in another room while at school flooded him.
"Ugh! You're always so serious, Callum! I didn't lose it yet, it's just inside my room. Are you gonna let me get it or are you backing out on teaching me?"
And just like that, Callum's worried expression fell apart at his brother's carefree attitude. Count on Ezran to make magic seem meaningless. Just then, the color-changing lizard let out a low hum and drew Callum's attention.
"You know, I can't believe you choose a toad as your pet. Owls are much cooler. You'll still have to choose one, anyway," he mentioned while shaking his head. He walked back into the manor, flower pots in his arms and wand stuffed into the pocket of his pants. Meanwhile, Ezran dramatically threw his arms into the air at the subject change but followed him and took the bait.
"What do you mean I still have to choose an owl? Can't Bait take care of messages for me? Hogwarts is so demanding."
"No, Hogwarts doesn't really care about that, but mom does. She told me when I had to choose that both of us have to choose a personal owl from our owlery to send messages with so we don't have to depend on the ones from Hogwarts."
"But can't Bait do it?"
"Everyone uses owls," Callum responded with a shrug. There wasn't much to explain except that the more popular way to deliver news and goods seemed to be owls. Got a big package to deliver? Use more owls to hold it up. Secret message you want to send? Charm it and tie it to a trained owl's legs that will defend the message from prying eyes. Toads could work, but people build owleries in buildings and prepare snacks for owls, not for toads or cats or anything else. It's an inconvenience to send a different animal, end of story.
"Will we still talk?" Ezran asked in a small voice. Callum looked back at him in bemusement.
"Of course we will. Even if you don't get sorted into Ravenclaw. There are things you can do after classes end, and eventually Hogsmeade trips come up. We can join some of the same clubs, too. Not everything is held within years and houses."
"Not sorted into Ravenclaw? Why wouldn't I choose Ravenclaw?"
"That's not how it works, Ezran," the older brother laughed. "The Sorting Hat chooses for you. If people were allowed to choose their own house, the rivalry would actually be so much more serious. Since family and friends split up between houses, it helps reinforce house cooperation. Don't sweat it, you'll be surrounded by people who generally think like you do, so you should be fine. Mostly."
"A hat?" was all Ezran echoed. Callum moved again and returned the flower pots. "Like I said, don't worry about it."
"About what?"
Callum tripped over air, heart stopping in fear of the pots crashing and breaking. He distantly heard Ezran cheerfully greet Claudia and then recalled he already put them down a moment ago.
"Woah, Callum," Claudia drew out, alarmed as the younger boy propped an arm against the wall and heaved a sigh of relief. "Are you alright?"
"What? Oh, yeah, you're totally fine—I'm totally fine!" He coughed out of nowhere. Ezran and Claudia looked at him weirdly and then started bringing up how long it had been since they last met.
"You're so tall now, Claudia!" Ezran teased.
"You got a little taller yourself. Callum too. I remember when you were just a little baby in a blanket." She broke off to make baby sounds and cooing at Ezran's forced scowl until they broke character and laughed in unison. He stayed quiet because he already greeted her earlier and wanted to avoid embarrassing himself more.
"Where's Soren? Usually by now, he would have brought up his Quidditch achievements."
"Oh, he... stayed behind. He wanted to come, but Dad said that since he still didn't start his summer essays, he's not allowed." Something in her expression told Callum that wasn't the entire story, but they weren't the type to discuss heavy topics. Also, Soren didn't like Callum and treated him poorly, so Callum also disliked him and didn't mind leaving it at that. They'll all be seeing each other next month, anyway. Finally, back to Hogwarts and maybe to a fruitful year.
Nothing could go wrong. Much.
Ezran offered a reconnaissance and retrieval mission to the kitchens, clearing the mood and giving them an activity to do together. When Claudia eagerly agreed, the Ravenclaw pushed his whispering worries to the back of his head and smiled with them.
"Why did he have to come unannounced? It's not hard to send a letter, some common courtesy!"
Harrow skillfully held back from pointing out Sarai's inclination to dismiss royal and noble customs, including the courtesy calls and letters. This was about the interruption more than it was about Viren. The three of them were friends, and that friendliness extended to Lissa, who married Viren and reared two children with him. Sarai in particular was fond of her, sending presents she thought the other woman would enjoy to help her destress, something all mothers understand.
"Come on, what if it's an emergency? At least he didn't come earlier in the morning."
"Don't," she said lowly. "Don't use those eyes on me, I wanted today to be our first peaceful day alone in weeks. Drop the hurt puppy act, it's not gonna work."
Harrow sighed despondently.
"I understand, Sarai. I'm sorry you don't like him."
Sarai stayed seated in the chair they were previously about to make out on, mourning the loss of their playful mood. Her husband sent a helpless smile at her and then left the room. For one second, Sarai wondered how much of her attitude was warranted. She wondered if the smiles aimed at her husband were truly just smiles or something more. She wondered if she had any right to deny support to maintain their friendship. As always, she ended up relying on what she was certain of.
In the hall, Harrow looked in shock at the warm hand grabbing his right hand.
"I don't have to agree with you to want to be at your side." She pressed the golden band on her ring finger against his skin, and the significance was not lost on him. He gripped her hand back and pecked her lips, knowing that Sarai had been the first to bow down to feelings and being content to follow her lead.
"Thank you."
They walked together to the meeting hall, where Viren stood speaking with Gren. The latter brightened up upon seeing the pair and Viren followed his line of sight. He was on his way to find Atarah to tell her something but ended up stuck entertaining Lord Viren until now when his superiors showed up. Ever the positive one, Gren admired the comfort the sight of his friends gave the Lord of Del Bar. A small smile appeared on his stern face, which was notably not there beforehand. His chin lifted from the imposing downward position he favored with the redheaded commander, but not too high.
"Harrow, how good it is to see you again after all this time," he greeted smoothly in a pleasant tone. Quietly, Gren bowed, addressed the two leaders, and then discreetly walked away, intent on finding the elusive female mage and speaking with her.
"Viren!" the broader man replied and laughed as he drew the haughty man into an embrace. Sarai giggled at the look of shock and immediate resignation Viren made. He patted his friend back a few times and stiffly pulled himself away.
"Sarai, a pleasure. You must be busy keeping this place under control."
"Busy? Why would I be?" she asked airily, daring him to say it. In a blink-and-you-miss-it moment, Viren's eyes flickered to the side and back again at her.
"Ah, I see. It's been quiet here, hm?"
And no one other than the three speaking sensed the subtle tension.
"My Lord," a servant announced, who had been waiting for a moment of silence to interject. "The food is ready."
"Shall I wait for you to finish eating?" Viren asked, keeping up with propriety.
"A guest waiting apart from his hosts? Now, I don't know if you mean to insult us or make a joke." Then to the servant, he requested, "Prepare three places at the table in the upper-right-wing dining room. Ezran and Callum will understand." Sarai made no objection, agreeing that privacy is preferrable for the situation.
"Right away, sir. I will notify you when it's prepared."
Harrow nodded and Sarai added a "thank you" before the servant strode away.
"That will probably be ready in under ten minutes. They're a swift bunch, dependable and capable. Let's take the long way to get there."
Sarai used no small amount of pride in her words and playfully motioned Viren to begin heading out the door. Her foot took a small step forward to show the two will follow shortly. When he turned around, Sarai huddled closely to Harrow's side.
"Do not mention Zubeia," she whispered. Harrow's eyebrows drew together in protest, so Sarai quickly continued. "He's our friend, I know that, Harrow. But friend or not, his creative solutions are not going to help us." The last part ended in a hiss, but Harrow knew the intricacies of Sarai's relationship with Harrow. She's never been afraid to disagree with Viren, nor averse to reach out and laugh with him. One of her strong suits is her ability to separate people from their actions, get to know them, and treat them accordingly like she did with him. So Harrow nodded.
Viren was right about to round the exit of the room, and Sarai and Harrow sped up to catch up with him. Low banter and Sarai's famous giggles echoed in the long corridors, painting over the scene in the hall with simple joy. Friendships, when strong, can overcome many diversities. Briefly, the three nobles forgot their agendas and history, appreciating shared words and time. Always, this always happened, which makes it hard for Sarai to ever truly ignore Viren. The Slytherin, for all his faults, seemed to be a man, like the rest of them. He laughed, cried, judged, and apologized.
For that humanity, she accepted him, but for humanity, she did not accept his magic.
In terms of sections and fields, there were many types of magic, somewhat indefinite. However, there were two main branches of magic: light and dark. Dark magic wasn't controversial until the Second Ogre War when humans began using it on a grand scale. Before that, it went largely unaddressed and unfavored. The war brought up the usage of deadly power through dark magic as well as the crimes connected to it. When peace negotiations were being conferred, they also tried to talk about dark magic but found it too large a subject. Thus, a separate council was designated to describe the levels of dark magic forbidden and punishment for each level.
Research went into finding out the depth of the magic as seen in the war and used in the world. It had been banned because of its effects and the way it drained natural resources too quickly, but then they discovered how the sinister spells were cast. Magical creatures, especially the elves, were beyond enraged that human mages had killed their kind to forge a dark weapon of mass murder against them. Death, death, and more death. It was abominable. During the time of those debates, many interracial bonds were severed and lost. Citizens of the human kingdoms stood up for morality, denouncing dark magic and stigmatizing its effects. The thought that these weapons could easily be used on them if ignored was not lost on them. However, that did not stop mages from continuing their dark pursuits.
Some initial levels of dark magic were allowed since they did not kill living creatures nor cause death. This is actually very common to see in potion-making. Hogwarts, along with other establishments, went through legal pains to do it the right way and harvest only from the dead who consented when alive or nonliving objects. Sarai suspected that his penchant for potions was what led Viren to dabble in dark magic. It's not as uncommon as one would think. More awareness of dark magic had a negative effect by interesting those who wanted power. Now, it was hated and illegal but continued to occur in hidden areas and shadowy alleys.
And enclosed rooms in noble houses.
"It is right here," Harrow said gently, causing Viren's response to Sarai's joke to fade until it was silent. The doors opened without prompting, though not because of magic. Katolian servants were eerily in tune with the manor-castle, so much so that Sarai and Harrow did not show a reaction to it. Viren followed their example.
In the middle of the room, a circular table covered by a crimson silk tablecloth was placed in the center. Decorative silverware was placed aesthetically onto three perfectly split surfaces, delicately folded napkins waiting on each plate. In the center area, there were servers full of different dishes accompanied with a food tong or serving spoon. A table to the left, set against the wall, was full of deserts and jugs of water, juice, and wine. Even though they opened the door, the servants were nowhere to be seen; Harrow, Sarai, and Viren were alone and in a private room.
"So they choose the round table. It's fitting, I suppose. A little odd to not see the bigger, rectangular one."
Sarai was proud to say she did not roll her eyes.
"Yes, they did great work in very little time. Take a seat now, you two." Wordlessly, Harrow moved to her left and she moved to his right, seating themselves like that. Viren took the other chair, with Sarai on his left and Harrow on his right. Respectable chatter about the food went on, compliments here and there. Viren did not miss the way Sarai had somehow shifted closer to Harrow's side without him noticing her doing it. It was an understated shift in positions, yet shouted all the same: where once they were all equidistant to each other, now the two were united and opposite to him.
"It's been so long since your last correspondence, Harrow. Did something happen, or change?"
"Yes, about that," Sarai spoke up. "I've been meaning to ask about you and Lissa. We haven't tardied in our communication, so I'm somewhat aware of the situation."
"Situation? What situation?" What and why didn't you tell me? went unsaid.
Viren cleared his throat. "Lissa is... we're trying to... conceive." Harrow made an expression as if to say go on. "This has been going on since the beginning of the year."
"Oh," Harrow replied dumbly, not wanting to touch on intimate matters with his friend and his wife. "Well, it's almost August. Are congratulations in order?"
"No, well, we haven't—"
"Viren and Lissa can't get pregnant. She's distraught. They're turning to specialized mages for help, but so far, no answers."
"There is an answer," Viren muttered under his breath. Sarai heard him.
"No."
"She told you. It's what she wants, she's just being stubborn about 'tradition.'"
"She doesn't want to involve her potential baby with dark magic, and what does tradition have to do with anything about this?"
The taboo of dark magic silenced the conversation, but the doors were closed and the privacy charms were up. Among nobles, it wasn't anything new. Harrow discreetly moved his right hand over her knee, squeezing lightly. Sarai calmed down.
"I don't intend to tell you what to do in your marriage, Viren. I just want you to know you can talk with us about it." When he stayed quiet, she added, "I promise not to attack your ideas and feelings. Sorry for raising my voice earlier. I know I'm Lissa's confidant and represent her side of the argument, but I'm also your friend and want to support you anywhere I can."
"Thank you, Sarai. I'm glad my wife has such a devoted friend like you," he replied earnestly. Another one of Sarai's abilities: drawing out sincerity and reason in escalated situations through her own sincerity and open heart. And Viren didn't lie. He knew his wife was feeling stressed about the lack of supported answers, tired of chasing half-assed theories that resulted in losses. That she opened up to Sarai, a woman deeply trusted by Harrow, was comforting that someone else indirectly helped where he could not.
"I'm glad to be her friend. Your family is more than lovely enough as it is. Claudia has such a bright mind. I heard something about a Head Girl?" No one reacted to the subject change.
"Not quite..."
"Claudia as Head Girl?" Harrow piped up for the first time since the mood got serious. "She's brilliant, yes, but doesn't strike me as a people-person to be Head Girl. No offense, Viren. I mean, sometimes talking to her feels like she's using a different language."
"I know exactly what you mean," Viren groaned. "She was supposed to be Head Girl because her grades put her at the top of her class, but when the heads of the houses were going over it in a meeting, it was quickly vetoed. We chose a Hufflepuff instead."
"I can imagine their faces when they heard her name," Sarai grinned.
"Claudia is not the socially brightest," acquiesced Viren with a tilt of his head. "Still, her intellect far surpasses that of her peers. And elves still have the audacity to say they are the intelligent race. My daughter learned everything from me, and I haven't even shown her all I know yet. There is something humans naturally have in abundance that elves lack: humility."
"Oh, yes, you are very humble, Viren," Harrow interjected. "Really. You're so mindful of your own flaws and not everyone else's." The other man glared at him half-heartedly, unable to resent the man before him.
"You would understand if you had to constantly socialize with them too. If I leave, the human students will have one less adult on whom they can depend, so I'm stuck there." No one else could convince Viren to insult his colleagues, but here, he knew it was safe. "They're so arrogant, babbling nonsense about moons, an elemental nexus, Xadia. 'Human kingdoms cannot compare.' Spoken like a true ignoramus. Aaravos is the only tolerable one of them, but he's had centuries to learn from the mistakes of his people." He let out a frustrated sigh, shoulders slumping for a second before he tensed up again. "Which leads me to explain the real reason for my visit."
Sarai and Harrow glanced at each other, a reminder of who to not bring up.
"The truth is, I did not come here because your letters slowed down. I came to speak about the one I sent recently."
"Yes, we read it," Harrow assured. Sarai scoffed.
"You read it, I heard what you told me. What exactly happened, Viren?"
"I was attending an event for the annual magic discoveries three months back," he began, a severe expression on his face. "Before the event reached the intermission, I got up to go to the bathroom, but as you'd imagine, the building was big and the walk just as long. I stopped walking when I heard a large group of people about to turn the corner. Call me crazy, but I had a weird tugging in my gut that told me to hide. I barely tucked myself away behind one of the pillars before they started walking down the same hall.
"I didn't get a good look of their faces, but they wore Moonshadow robes. Their murmurs were too low for me to hear before, but when they passed by the pillar, I caught some clear words: 'can't wait to spill human blood.' And they laughed. I know anti-human sentiments are nothing new, but I couldn't ignore that gut feeling I had the entire time.
"So I ordered spies to hang around towns near Silvergrove, camouflage with the residents and watch out for political intents against humans. At the end of the first week, we had our first lead. An elf showing suspicious behavior, but hard to track before they appeared on the scene and gone after. I decided to get involved and managed to follow them the second time they showed up, in the following week. At least six of them, hooded, in one section of Silvergrove's forests, and an unmistakable Queen of Dragons with them."
"What were they doing there? Planning?"
"Reporting to her, it would seem. Most of what they were saying made no sense until I heard the end of the meeting. The elves were silent when not answering her, but Zubeia left them one last message. She said, 'Katolis will rue the day they shed our blood. Harrow will pay; a life for a life.'"
"Avizandum was the one who broke the treaty," Sarai asserted, holding her pounding forehead. "He should not have been outside of Xadian borders, to begin with. No one knows what happened or how! Zubeia is mourning her family, I know, but why can't we even talk with each other? Why does the response have to be vengeance?"
"They don't need a reason. They're angry and just want humans to suffer in a twisted sense of retribution!" the equally frustrated mage replied hotly. "You're all in danger. I will help as much as I can with the information until I go back to Hogwarts. Claudia and Soren will be there, I cannot leave them alone in a place infested with children of murderous elves. They aren't aware, but they aren't the targets. Your children—don't tell me they're going to Hogwarts."
Sarai squared her shoulders.
"Aaravos is the strongest mage there is, and Hogwarts has many protections put in place to prevent harm to students. He's the reason the school isn't exclusive towards humans. No one is more powerful than him to cause Ezran and Callum any harm."
"Aaravos won't be sitting in their classrooms or checking their food! He won't be trailing them every Hogsmeade trip!"
"We're not giving them permission this year," Sarai responded. Viren lifted a brow.
"That's not going to stop them, especially if you haven't told them." Sarai averted her gaze. "I don't blame you, but you're taking a big risk sending them off like that!"
"You think I don't know that, Viren?" she hissed.
"You can't rely on just Aaravos," he stubbornly went on.
"We aren't," Harrow confirmed. Sarai tensed but turned to look at him as the other man did. "You'll be there, too. I know you're already looking for Soren and Claudia, but if you can spare an eye or two to look after our boys, that'll help greatly."
Viren groaned lowly and slumped in his chair, knowing his answer and feeling foolish for having brought it upon himself.
"Please, Viren," his voice said softly.
"I'll do what I can," he said tiredly. "If it's within my power, I promise to do whatever it takes to protect your sons."
The owl's journey amongst the stars in the sky ended when Hogwarts came into view. Bypassing the checkpoint charms, it landed in the balcony of a familiar acquaintance. Not often, yet more than occasionally did it make the trip from Katolis manor to Hogwarts.
From its position on the balcony, the view of the Headmaster's quarters showed surfaces and shelves riddled with papers and bizarre, magical instruments. To the owl, the elf that twisted in front of a mirror looking back at it was illuminated sufficiently for his midnight-hued robes and star-freckled body to not be hidden in the dark of the night. Eyes questioned the animal's presence, eyes that glowed an otherwordly amber in the shadows.
"Well, my friend? What news do you have for me?" The owl fluttered into the room and dropped the envelope it was clutching backwards in its beak, revealing the noble seal of Katolis's leaders. Oh, so Harrow had written him something. He thanked the bird and opened the envelope to take out the enclosed letter.
Aaravos, first I must explain myself before asking what needs must. I fear I have not confided in you as I should have, you who have been my sponsor and dear friend, and to my father and his father and so on. It is with this regard toward you that I entrust dangerous secrets no other can know, and I entrust to you the safety of those who would be gravely harmed if caught in the crossfire...
With each sentence, Aaravos's concern increased until at last he put the letter down. How had his protege gotten involved in these schemes without him knowing? Not to mention with the woman's secret and the boy... this year may end up being the busiest so far. Although, Harrow wants to lessen his burden by offering the help of an esteemed mage who is well-read and professional enough to teach History of Magic. There was already someone applying to hold the Defense Against the Dark Arts position since Professor Hadrian abruptly resigned mere days after the school year ended. Against his better judgment, Aaravos decided to welcome the eccentricity; when had he ever let "abnormal" stop him from hiring people to teach at his school?
With quick wand work, he summoned paper and ink, writing his response through magic. When he finished, he gently took the floating letters and folded it into an envelope, using his personal seal to close it. His wand met the surface of the envelope and with a few murmurs, tendrils of color wrapped around the paper before sinking in and disappearing. He looked it over and nodded in satisfaction. He looked at the inquisitive owl, and the compassion in his chest spurred him to stroke the soft feathers before teleporting the owl right outside the magical barriers of Katolis, letter in beak.
A/N: In the show, Callum and Ezran are four to five years apart in age. Here, that's been lessened to two years so that allows Ezran can attend Hogwarts while Callum is still young as well. The number of established characters in HP vastly outnumber those in TDP, so some remain untouched in their position, such as Madam Malkin and the goblins. This crossover is basically TDP characters in the HP universe, so it's not excluding HP history and characters. Both are included, some parts are just replaced and tweaked. Much of this chapter is building the character dynamics, with a focus on the current views on dark magic, as the title suggests. Runaan's appearance is in the next chapter, and his character introduction is the one after that.
Secondly, this chapter would likely not be here, even though it's late, if it wasn't for my friend Monserrat. She helped me regain inspiration and motivation to get this out, so I'm dedicating this chapter to her. Thank you to anyone still interested in this story, shout out to The Night Whisperer for being the first review here. Another thank you to the five who favorited and the five who followed this story; it certainly helps.
Lastly, I posted this chapter yesterday but the fourth scene had a major plot inconsistency. I sorted it out and updated a paragraph in chapter one so the story flows better. You don't need to reread the first chapter because the update is thoroughly addressed in this one. I hope the length makes up for everything. Stay safe.
... there was another plot error I had to fix. Definitely important in the long run. I'm going to advise readers at the start of chapter four to reread just in case.