Beginning note: I've looked this over twice, so if there are any mistakes, feel free to tell me, and I'll correct them. When I read something from my own eyes, it's difficult to see mistakes I made from my own perspective.
Chapter Three
Desperation
In the quiet darkness of the room, Ville stirred from his sleep, finding himself wrapped tightly in a blanket like a burrito. Beside him lay Tom, both cocooned in the warmth of their coverings. The absence of blood, the darkness outside, and the lack of clocks left Ville disoriented. He couldn't discern whether it was the approach of dinner or the prelude to dawn.
An eerie silence hung in the air, broken only by a subtle noise emanating from the corner of the room. Ville's heart quickened, anxiety prickling his skin. He glanced over to find his mother standing there, her face etched with a frown. Fear gripped him immediately; this could be the moment, he thought, when she would cast him away, when her patience would wear thin, echoing the cruelty he had endured with the Dursleys.
But to his surprise, she did none of that. Instead, she pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down, her eyes fixed on him. For a moment, Ville felt frozen, his body refusing to respond to his commands. He tried to move, but his limbs were bound by an unseen force. Panic clawed at him, his mind a torrent of fear and confusion.
In a moment of quiet intensity, Ville looked up to meet his mother's gaze. Her eyes held a mixture of sadness and something else, something softer. And then, just as inexplicably as he had been restrained, he found himself able to move.
His mother stood from her chair, approaching, her steps slow and deliberate. It was this very movement, the physical proximity, that triggered Ville's primal instincts. His arms shot up, instinctively shielding his face from the perceived threat. He braced for impact, expecting pain, the familiar sting of a blow that never came.
To his bewilderment, instead of pain, he felt something soft and warm. His mother's hands gently guided his arms down, away from his face. Ville dared to glance up, meeting her gaze. The look of displeasure on her face had fled just as quickly as it had formed and, instead, was replaced with such a tender look that Ville felt his lip tremble.
His mother reached out, her touch gentle as she moved his arms away from his face. And then, something extraordinary happened. Her arms wrapped around him as she hugged him. As if he were a precious gem and nothing in the world would ever make her hit him.
The floodgates of Ville's emotions burst open, tears streaming down his cheeks in an unstoppable torrent. He cried, his sobs echoing in the room, carried away on the wings of his pent-up anguish. The sound roused Tom from his slumber, his eyes widening as he took in the unexpected scene before him.
His mother's embrace remained, a comforting haven amidst the storm of Ville's emotions. Though still and unmoving, Tom watched, his eyes reflecting the moment's complexity. In that unexpected gesture, Ville found a glimmer of hope, a flicker of the love he desperately craved. Once suffocating in silence, the room bore witness to a fragile, unspoken understanding.
In the hushed aftermath of Ville's emotional release, his mother guided him toward the bathroom, her touch surprisingly gentle despite the weight of the recent events. And then, she swivelled around and returned towards Tom, who was still gaping at them.
The cool water from the tap felt refreshing against his skin, grounding him in the present moment. Ville attempted to remember everything Jannik had shown him about skincare but likely failed. Remembering the order to put the different liquids on his skin took a lot of work, as there were so many bottles and names.
From the sanctuary of the bathroom, Ville strained his ears, capturing every word his mother spoke to Tom. Her voice, firm yet laced with compassion, filled the room. "I'll release you from the full body hold, but remember this, Tom," her words hung in the air, heavy with significance. "Until you affix your signature to this contract, true freedom will elude you. Refusal will lead you back to the dungeons, tightly bound until I decide your fate."
Ville could hear no response from Tom and hoped, dearly, that the boy wouldn't sign anything.
The concept of a binding contract intrigued Ville, and he strained to hear more. His mother's voice carried on, outlining the contract's terms with unwavering clarity. "This document prohibits you from inflicting harm upon me, Ville, Jannik, or anyone within the Royal Court. Moreover, it extends beyond physical pain, encompassing any form of suffering, emotional or otherwise."
This time, Ville could hear a response. "What are the consequences?" Tom asked a harsh sound that somehow still sounded charming. It seemed, however, that his mother wasn't fooled.
"If you harm anyone physically, you will die," she said as if it was a breeze, and someone's life hadn't just been threatened, but Ville reminded himself who she was talking to and stopped caring. "And if emotionally?"
Ville looked in the mirror to watch the confrontation, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of them. "Depends on the kind of hurt you do. If you bully someone, your features will change into something disfiguring until you learn to control yourself. Whether you get bullied in turn is of no consequence and can't be helped."
He could hear Tom's sharp intake of breath, but it seemed Mother wasn't finished yet. "And if you break someone's heart..." she trailed off, and he was shocked to see his mother smirking. "Only true love's kiss will ever release you from the pain you go through for that."
Ville's eyes widened in comprehension. It wasn't just physical harm that the contract guarded against; it was the subtler cruelties, the emotional scars, and the heartbreaks that could be as devastating as any bodily injury. The contract became more than just a piece of parchment; it was a shield against the darkness of the past.
After peering out of the bathroom, Ville widened his eyes as he saw his mother holding a lengthy document. The sheer volume of words left him speechless, his mouth slightly ajar.
"In addition to that," his mother's voice carried a firmness that brooked no argument, "you will be unable to act or behave as your future self had done. You will be denied the path that led you to darkness."
With that, she handed Tom the contract, its weighty significance palpable. Ville, his heart pounding, withdrew his head from the doorway, absorbing the gravity of the situation.
At that moment, the door creaked open, and Jannik entered, his presence a calming influence. Impeccably dressed, he exuded an air of serene confidence. Without a word, he moved towards Ville, his touch gentle as he began adjusting Ville's hair.
Feeling his brother's comforting presence, Ville leaned into Jannik's touch, his eyes closing briefly. In the silence of that shared moment, a profound sense of belonging washed over him, along with the feeling of being loved. Here, in his brother's care, Ville found an anchor amidst the storm of uncertainty.
Jannik's fingers moved deftly, a silent promise that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together. Ville discovered a newfound strength in the tenderness of that brotherly bond, reminding him that he was not alone in this unfamiliar world. The unspoken love between them formed an unbreakable shield, guarding them against the trials that awaited, and Ville, for the first time in years, felt a glimmer of hope flicker in his heart.
"I tried to do the skincare," Ville announced once Jannik had closed the door, likely not wanting to see Tom's face.
"Good job," Jannik whispered and hugged him from behind, similar to how his mother had just done minutes before.
"I'm so happy you're here," he said, his voice soft and whispery, and flew away in the gentle breeze wafting in from the opened window.
"Me too," Ville declared, turning around to face his brother and hug him back.
As the first light of dawn crept into the room, Ville watched in silence as his mother, with a wave of her hand, cast a binding spell on Tom, restraining him with a magical leash. Tom's lips curled into a sardonic smile, but the look in his eyes betrayed his defiance and resignation to the whole thing as his mother forced his arms down to his sides.
By the time they made their way to the dining room, the servants had meticulously arranged breakfast on the table. The butler and footmen stood at attention, ready to serve. Ville felt a surge of anger as he watched Tom, the boy who had taken everything from him, being treated with an air of regality. The injustice of it gnawed at him, but he bit down on his frustration, keeping his thoughts to himself. It didn't matter to him that Tom was being restrained but rather that they were sharing a table.
His mother's eyes, glinting with a warning, allowed Tom to sit but maintained her control, releasing his arms so he could eat. Ville's resentment grew, a seething anger threatening to spill over, but he held his tongue.
Breakfast passed in strained silence. The clinking of silverware against china was the only sound, punctuated occasionally by the rustle of fabric and the careful footsteps of the servants.
After the meal, they moved to the sitting room, where tea, coffee, and biscuits were served. The tension in the room was palpable, every gaze fixed on Tom. Ville felt a surge of satisfaction as his mother handed Tom the contract she had shown him earlier.
"Let me see it," Jannik interrupted as Mother handed Tom a blood quill.
Tom handed him the contract without fanfare, and Jannik read it through his eyes tightening.
"You can't write that he will die if he physically hurts someone," Jannik said very softly, and for the first time, Ville felt a chill of fear to be in such proximity to his brother, who was able to sound this intimidating.
"And why not?" His mother asked Jannik, but she sounded interested instead of defensive.
"Did you already forget what happened at the bank?" Jannik hissed, gesturing between Ville and Tom.
Ville looked away, keeping his head lowered. He remembered very well how he had hit Tom, aiming to give him as much pain as possible.
Tom had hit him back, whether out of self-defence or to return the pain, he wasn't sure.
"Right," Ville spoke up, realising the issue, even if he was surprised at himself for interfering. "If someone hurts him, defending himself will get him killed. Jannik is right, mum."
It was the first time he had called her mum, and he could see how her whole face softened with love.
"How about you change it to allowing self-defence in any form, but if he hurts just to hurt, then that clause can stick?" Jannik suggested before handing it back to Mother.
She nodded and corrected the words quickly with a flick of her wand.
Tom's reluctance was evident, but under the watchful eyes of everyone in the room, he signed the contract using a blood-quill.
For the first time, Ville's brother, Jannik, showed a flicker of emotion. His brows furrowed in discomfort, an unspoken protest etched across his face. Still, neither of them uttered a word. The weight of the contract hung heavy in the air, sealing a fate that none of them fully understood, but all were forced to accept. The room remained cloaked in tension, the unspoken animosity between them promising more challenges in the days to come.
"There," Mother said, smiling slightly at all of them. "Now we can blood-adopt Tom into our family."
"WHAT?"
The morning sun in Sweden was a masterpiece of hues, casting a soft, golden glow upon the vast estate grounds. Ville felt the crisp morning air caressing his skin, the slight chill of dawn that promised the warmth of the day to come. Dew-kissed grass glistened like emeralds beneath the sunlight, and the distant call of a skylark echoed in the serene atmosphere.
As they left the confines of the palace, Ville's eyes fell upon the horizon, where the sky was painted in shades of pink and orange, a breathtaking tapestry heralding the arrival of a new day. The first light of dawn danced upon the leaves of ancient trees, casting intricate shadows upon the ground. The scent of blooming flowers and damp earth mingled in the air, a heady perfume that filled his senses with tranquillity.
Ville walked beside Tom, his senses keenly attuned to the surroundings. The guards, vigilant as ever, formed a protective shield around them, their stern expressions betraying no emotions.
In the distance, barely discernible, an elderly-looking man moved. Ville's eyes narrowed, recognising the figure as the same man who had been lurking around the castle. Despite the considerable distance that separated them, Ville sensed the man's intent gaze fixed upon Tom. The man's distress was palpable, his attempts to draw closer thwarted by the vigilant guards.
"Merlin..." Tom said, glaring back at the man, and quickened his steps.
"Do you know him?" Jannik asked, turning around to stare at the man who shimmered out of existence.
"Yeah," Teodor scowled, continuing forward. "His name is Albus Dumbledore. He made my life a living hell—"
"Language." The Queen chastised, quirking her brow at Tom. "We are educated, eloquent purebloods who don't need to use crass language to get our point across."
"Right," Tom said, a smirk appearing on his face. "Purebloods."
Ville could see the man's shimmering appearance from his peripheral vision, moving as they did, frustration etched across his face. The man reached into his robes, producing a set of some kind of binoculars. With determination etched on his features, he focused the lenses on Tom, trying to get a closer look. Ville's heart quickened as he noticed the man's persistence.
Even from afar, Dumbledore's intent was clear. Ville's grip on his mother's hand tightened instinctively, a surge of protectiveness enveloping him. He exchanged a quick, knowing glance with Jannik, who subtly adjusted his position, ready to intervene if needed. It seemed Jannik was aware Dumbledore was acting off, too, so his instincts were correct.
Aware of the threat, the guards stood firm, denying Dumbledore the proximity he sought. Ville's eyes flickered back to him, watching his frustration transform into a dangerous determination. The man's eyes glinted with an unsettling intensity as he continued his relentless scrutiny.
The realisation struck Ville like a lightning bolt. Dumbledore wasn't just curious; he was desperate.
Desperate to reach Tom, to understand the enigma that stood before him. Why was Tom so important to the man? What did he see in the boy?
Did he know about what the goblins had found out?
Ville's mind raced, questions and suspicions colliding within him. He knew one thing for certain: whatever the man's motives, he would do everything he could to shield his newfound family from the impending storm. With unwavering determination, Ville stood his ground, ready to face any challenges Dumbledore wrought upon him. But it seemed that suddenly, the man disappeared as if he had never been.
Figuring maybe he had been wrong, Ville turned back around and focused on the stunning pebbled path they were walking on.
With each step, the family came closer to a hidden alcove nestled within a cave. The trail, lined with vibrant wildflowers, led them through a serene forest. Ville could hear the gentle rustle of leaves above, the soothing melody of the wind weaving through the branches. The ground beneath his feet felt solid and reassuring, grounding him in the moment.
The alcove, surrounded by ancient stones and veiled by the branches of a colossal oak, held an aura of ancient magic. Ville's heart quickened as they approached, anticipation and trepidation intertwining. With its intricate runes, the cave seemed to hum with power, bearing witness to the rituals that had taken place there.
As they entered the alcove, the atmosphere shifted. The air crackled with an electric energy, sending shivers down Ville's spine. The sunlight filtered through the leaves above, casting dappled patterns on the cave floor. The subtle scent of moss and earth surrounded them, grounding Ville in the moment.
In that instant, Ville's eyes were drawn to the horizon, where the sun began its ascent. The sky transformed into a canvas of vibrant colours – pinks, oranges, and purples blending seamlessly, painting a breathtaking masterpiece. The beauty of the sunrise mirrored the complexity of emotions within him – uncertainty, hope, and a touch of fear.
Their surroundings seemed to fade into the background as the family gathered, forming a protective circle. The ritual was about to commence, an ancient and sacred tradition that would forever bind Tom to their family. Despite the unease that hung in the air, Ville found solace in the breathtaking beauty of the morning, the symphony of colours, sounds, and scents merging into a poignant reminder of the delicate balance between darkness and light. As they prepared for the ritual, Ville closed his eyes, allowing the sensory tapestry of the moment wash over him, grounding him in the significance of what was about to unfold.
The weight of the moment hung in the air, suffocating them all. Standing stoically beside Ville, Jannik seemed indifferent yet clearly intrigued by the unfolding drama.
Torn between loyalty to his mother and the rage burning within him, Ville tried to find solace in the memories of when his family had been just him, his brother and his mother, even if that form of a family had only been slightly more than a day.
The ancient cave seemed to hold its breath as the family gathered for the blood adoption ritual. Ville stood with his mother, Jannik, and the boy they had once known as Tom, now to be known as Teodor Rasmus Olsen. The atmosphere thrummed with power, and Ville could feel the steady anchor in the shifting tides of magic. It had gone silent as the magic built up like helium, slowly growing a balloon.
The Queen's voice cut through the silence, breaking Ville from his thoughts. "By the blood that flows within and the bonds that now begin, we invite you, Teodor Rasmus Olsen, to be one of our kin."
Ville watched in suspense as the ritual unfolded. His mother drew a ceremonial dagger, its blade glinting in the filtered sunlight. With a precise motion, she made a shallow cut on her palm. The blood welled up, a deep crimson against her pale skin.
"Jannik, your blood binds the past with the present," she said, her tone unwavering. Jannik stepped forward, his hand outstretched, a look of solemn determination etched upon his features. The dagger moved, and his blood joined his mother's.
Then came the moment Ville both anticipated and dreaded. His mother turned to him, her eyes softening with love and regret. "Ville," she said, her voice tender, "Your blood will seal this pact. For our family."
Ville hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. He looked at Tom, searching for any sign of sincerity in the cold eyes. Despite his anger, a flicker of pity for the broken boy before him tugged at Ville's conscience. He didn't know all of Tom's life, but it felt eerily similar in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on.
Slowly, he extended his hand and bore the ceremonial cut, his heartbeat quickening as he added his blood to the mix.
Finally, they turned to Teodor, who stood with an air of uncertainty and resignation. His expression was a mix of emotions, and Ville couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy. Teodor extended his palm, the blade cut cleanly against his skin, and a fourth crimson drop joined the others.
The Queen's powerful and unwavering voice continued, "By the blood we share this day, by the bond we now convey, you are one with us, come what may."
Ville watched in awe as the mingled blood began to glow with an otherworldly light. The cavern seemed to pulse with life, the very essence of their beings entwining in a complex dance of ancient magic. The atmosphere crackled with power, the air humming with the intensity of the ritual.
A shiver ran down Ville's spine as he witnessed the unbreakable bond forming before his eyes.
As their blood mingled on the parchment, a surge of magic enveloped them. Ville felt a peculiar sensation as if a piece of his essence had been woven into the very fabric of their existence.
As the ritual reached its zenith, Ville felt an abrupt and agonising jolt shoot through him. His body convulsed an invisible force contorting him in ways he couldn't comprehend. Pain lanced through his veins, searing through his consciousness, and he gasped, his hands instinctively clutching at his chest.
In that moment, he knew something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
The pain intensified, blinding him to everything but the agony tearing through his very soul. His vision blurred, the cave's interior warping and twisting around him. His body, once solid and tangible, now felt ephemeral, as if it were disintegrating into the very essence of magic that surrounded them.
Amid his tremors, Ville's senses heightened, and despite the overwhelming pain, he noticed that the same convulsions were happening to Teodor. Yet, for reasons unknown, Teodor seemed to be suffering more profoundly.
Driven by the last remaining semblance of his senses, Ville crawled towards Teodor, the feeling of what must have been some sort of seizure intensifying. His magic crackled around him, volatile and uncontrolled. No one dared to stop him; his power was too intense, too wild to be contained.
With sheer determination, Ville wriggled atop Teodor, their bodies seamlessly connecting as if guided by an unseen force. Ignoring the pain that seared through him, Ville pressed his forehead against Teodor's. It was an instinct, an impulse that seemed to transcend the boundaries of mere survival.
Then, without warning, Ville's senses abandoned him. The world disappeared, the pain, the cave, and even his existence faded away. He passed out, his body falling limp atop Teodor's, their minds connected in a way that defied explanation.
In the darkness of unconsciousness, Ville and Teodor shared a strange, surreal journey, their souls entwined as they confronted a malevolent force that sought to consume them. Together, they fought back, their combined willpower pushing the darkness away, back into the void from whence it came.
It was hard, forcing this entity that knew how to push back so well, meshing with their souls with a familiarity that scared Ville more than even the presence of Uncle Vernon did.
But together with Teodor, the black pulsing air finally started losing ground.
"Come on, Teo!" Ville yelled, tears of frustration streaming down his face.
"On three!" Teodor shouted back.
"One...Two... THREE! PUSH!"
It was strange how easy it was when they worked together as if the universe demanded it of them.
And then, quite suddenly, the cave's surroundings returned, both familiar and alien, when Ville finally woke up. His consciousness, however, returned slowly, fragment by fragment. He found himself back in the cave, atop Teodor, with the other boy's body changed and arms around Ville as if to prevent him from falling.
Teodor Rasmus Olsen, the newly transformed member of the Olsen family, appeared tall. Even on the ground, it was clear how their bodies no longer aligned perfectly. His height surpassed Ville's, marking a noticeable change from the boy he used to be. His frame had elongated, a lean yet nimble build that mirrored the skeletal structure of his newfound brothers. Lithe, lanky, and perfectly angular.
Once cropped short, Teodor's hair now cascaded down to his shoulders in a tumble of curls, sharing the same rich texture as his brothers. The ringlets framed his face in a wild, untamed mane, giving him an air of grace and rebellion. Despite the transformation, his hair bore the same dark hue as Jannik's, blending seamlessly with their shared heritage.
Yet, it was Teodor's eyes that drew the most attention. Teodor's eyes had transformed into a striking hazel, unlike the deep ebony orbs that both Ville and Jannik bore. The warm hues of amber and green blended in a mesmerising dance, revealing depths of emotion that seemed to have weathered far more than his years would suggest. Those hazel eyes held a vulnerability and decisiveness as if they had witnessed darkness and light, leaving behind an enigmatic aura.
Which, Ville realised, they had. He knew he would never tell anyone what had transpired between him and Teodor within their mindscapes, but then again, it didn't seem like anyone was asking.
With his hazel eyes, tousled curls, and the same skin tone as his newfound brothers, Teodor now appeared as if he had always been a part of the Olsen family. The transformation was so seamless that, to an outsider's eyes, it was as if there had always been three heirs in the Olsen lineage, their similarities uncanny and their bond unbreakable.
As Ville realised he was still above Teodor, he attempted to move but was stopped by arms tightening around him.
"Thank you." Teodor's voice whispered against his ear, making him shiver. The boy said nothing else, and Ville realised this was also the start of Teodor's mental transformation. His journey to fitting into a family that would love him and take care of him, and that alone solidified him into forgiveness. After all, Teodor wasn't Tom. Not anymore.
The ritual had forged a bond, but it had also revealed a hidden darkness within Teodor, one that both Ville and Teodor had helped to purge. Maybe it was that darkness that had been hurting Tom all this time.
So Ville did what his brother and mother had shown him, which worked magical wonders.
He hugged Teodor, and just like he had when his mother embraced him, Teodor burst into tears.
His mother and brother, their hearts heavy yet resolute, gathered around the two boys' intertwined forms, uncertainty and hope mingling in their shared purpose.
And then they all clustered together, hugging them and spreading the love like a jam on bread.
Under the vibrant twilight sky, the Olsen family embarked on a different route back to the castle after their secretive ritual. As they made their way through the castle grounds, Jannik, the ever-enthusiastic older brother, decided to show his two younger siblings around. Ville, his curiosity piqued, trailed behind Jannik, his eyes wide with wonder as they approached the stables.
"These are our magical horses, Abraxans," Jannik explained, gesturing towards the majestic creatures. Ville watched in awe as the Abraxans, large and ethereal, moved gracefully within their enclosures. The sight of these magnificent beasts captured Ville's imagination, filling him with a newfound sense of wonder. His mother was beside them, gently stroking one of the Abraxans who nuzzled her hair.
The siblings continued their exploration, with Ville's fascination growing as they encountered various magical creatures and hidden corners of the castle grounds. As they walked, Jannik casually remarked, "You know, I've noticed something strange. Neither of you has that scar anymore. It's as if it never existed."
Ville exchanged a glance with Teodor, silently acknowledging the bizarre revelation. It was as if their shared history, marked by the infamous scar, had been erased, leaving them with a fresh start, unburdened by the shadows of the past.
With the memory of Dumbledore's frenzied pursuit still fresh in their minds, Teodor found amusement in the situation. A smirk tugged at his lips as he whispered to Ville, "Looks like we've outsmarted Dumbledore without even trying. He's still stuck in the past, chasing ghosts."
Ville, too, found a glimmer of satisfaction in this small victory, appreciating the irony of their situation. They continued their journey, laughter and camaraderie replacing the tension that had hung in the air earlier.
The dining room was bathed in the soft glow of evening, casting a warm ambience over the ornate setting where the family gathered for supper. The clinking of cutlery against porcelain mingled with the gentle hum of conversation, creating a soothing melody that filled the room.
Suddenly, the tranquil atmosphere was shattered as two owls burst through the window, their arrival heralded by a gust of wind and the rustle of feathers. In their talons, they carried letters sealed with a mark Ville had never seen before. Teodor, however, observant as he was, recognised the emblem immediately.
"Oh! Those are Hogwarts letters," he exclaimed, his voice filled with surprise. "Though I wouldn't go there again, seeing as Dumbledore is Headmaster."
Ville, his curiosity piqued, reached out to grab one of the envelopes. "Here, look," Teodor said, his tone inviting, and the two opened their letters simultaneously. The parchment inside was crisp and bore the elegant insignia of the school. Ville scanned the contents, his eyes widening with each word he read.
"What does it say?" Teodor asked, his gaze fixed on Ville's face.
"It's an invitation," Ville replied, his voice filled with astonishment and trepidation. "They want us to attend Hogwarts. Both of us."
Teodor's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "But why now? And how did they even know about us?"
Before Ville could respond, a magical resonance enveloped the letters, emanating a subtle, iridescent glow. The parchment quivered in their hands, enveloping the room in a soft, ethereal light. The enchantment within the letters sprang to life, transforming them into intricate Portkeys, their magic swirling in a mesmerising dance.
In an instant, the room blurred around them, colours blending into a whirlwind of motion. Ville and Teodor clung to the letters, their surroundings distorting until they were suspended in a timeless void. The sensation of being untethered, of hurtling through space and time, was terrifying.
With a sudden jolt, the world snapped back into focus. Ville and Teodor found themselves in an unfamiliar place; the air tinged with the scent of ancient magic. The room they now stood in was grand and imposing, adorned with tapestries depicting historical battles and portraits of stern-looking wizards and witches.
Teodor's eyes met Ville's, a silent understanding passing between them. They had been whisked away to an unknown destination, their fate uncertain. As they steeled themselves for whatever lay ahead, the whispers of Hogwarts' storied past echoed around them, setting the stage for their enigmatic journey.
"Wait," Teodor whispered, leaning close to Ville so as not to be overheard by any of the glaring portraits, "This is Hogwarts. We're in the Headmaster's office."
"But that would mean —"
"Hello, gentleman." A cold voice sprung up from their side, making Ville jump and automatically cover his head with his hands.
Shockingly, Teodor was on his feet immediately, so fast that Ville got whiplash. But what surprised him even more was the fact that Teodor stood in front of him, blocking him with his body.
The Headmaster came into view, a flicker of shock at seeing them there that was gone so fast, Ville wasn't sure he actually saw it. Then his eyes turned frosty again, and he lifted his wand, aiming it at Teodor's heart.
"I want to know where Harry Potter is, and I want to know why Tom Riddle is living with him."
Ville moved from behind Teodor, grasping his hand tightly between his fingers. Teodor glanced at him, and somehow, a voice whispered into his brain. Be careful. He can read minds if you look directly into his eyes. Don't. I'll back up whatever plan you have.
"This," Ville said, gesturing at Teodor and looking somewhere past Dumbledore's left ear. "Is my brother, Teo, and neither of us know who Harry Potter is or Tom Riddle."
"Yes," Teodor added, smiling silkily. "But we do know that you will soon be in big trouble with the Swedish Royal Court."
"Ah," Dumbledore said, his glare so intimidating Ville had to swallow his gasp. "I don't think so."
And with that, Dumbledore lifted both of them by the scruffs of their necks. "You see, I only care about Harry Potter. Tom Riddle was just an add-on."
The man led them out of the office, and suddenly, they were floating upside down and up a bunch of staircases that all moved, almost in sync with where the Headmaster wanted to go.
When they stopped, Ville could feel a breeze from the direction of what seemed to be an opening.
Oh, Merlin... Ville heard Teodor's voice in his mind again.
What? He asked, panicked, and forced himself not to show it.
We're in the Astronomy Tower. I think... I think he wants to kill us.
Ville tried to struggle, but similar to what had happened earlier, he couldn't move.
"So!" Dumbledore chirped, smiling down at both of them with a genial smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Do we know about Harry Potter yet?"
"No," Ville said before he could stop himself, but Teodor had promised to follow his lead.
"We never heard of him before! We are children of the Royal Household!" Teodor added, using his rude voice as if to emphasise his point.
Ville could see when Dumbledore's stance changed, and then he lifted his wand, pointing it at them once more.
"In that case, I hardly need any witnesses."
They were hovering in mid-air now, and when Ville looked down, they were extremely high up.
Tears filled his eyes. He was going to die.
Teodor took his hand and smiled, trying to be reassuring.
"Thanks," he said softly, squeezing Ville's fingers. "Thanks for not discouraging your mum from accepting me."
Ville squeezed back, unable to form any words.
"Goodbye," Dumbledore said, sneering at them. "Children of the Swedish Royal Court."
Ville could feel the second the spell was released. A scream fell from his lips, but was lost in the wind as they plunged.