Thank you to those who have read and reviewed! I'll update probably every day or two until I hit about ch 10 and then slow things down as I keep writing. Each chapter is between 5k-9k words, just for you :) And this chapter should answer some questions you might have.

Farlan is 31 when Harry enters Hogwarts and will have gone to school at the same time as the Marauders. He'll have shown up at Hogwarts 2 years before Harry. No pairings have been planned as of yet and yes, canon and plot things will change because Farlan is... well, a responsible adult... sort of, lol. Hope you all enjoy!

Trigger warning for this chapter onward: depression, anxiety, self-neglect and hints/ideas of self-harm

Mourning was a slow process. My entire life had yet again been upended by death, but that didn't make the process any easier. When my mother passed, it took over a year to finally feel a little like myself again. I was able to go out and not feel sorrow every time I saw a happy family or the same wavy brown hair in a crowd. Being moved to the orphanage was a whole new world I had to get used to on top of that and without direction, all I could do was wait to return to Hogwarts.

Losing Magnus was much the same. I was forced to remain in Madam Pomfrey's care until she deemed me well enough to leave. Dumbledore had then surprised me with the offer to stay at Hogwarts until I felt I was ready to leave. There was obviously a hidden meaning behind his words and kind smile but I wasn't quite in the right state of mind to question him. So, once I was allowed out of the infirmary, I was shown a room near the professor's offices that I could stay in. I had nothing to move in with but again, Dumbledore showed kindness by gifting me some spare clothing and some money to get anything else I might need from the nearby town.

I considered asking about Magnus's sanctuary but the thought of returning there for my things was more than just a risk. I still had nightmares of flashing spells, a bloodied beak, and a cloaked figure aiming his wand at me. Knowing that the creatures had been released was also a concern. I had no way of knowing which of them chose to stay in the area. Though yet again, Dumbledore seemed to know what I wished and a bundle of my things was delivered to my room with a note.

When you're ready

I have an offer for you.

It felt almost like a threat. He'd done so many things for me and while he smiled and said it was no bother, it made me uneasy. He wanted something from me and it didn't take any legilimency to figure out what it was. I was only skilled in two things, after all, and if dark wizards were interested enough to kill my mentor and raid a dangerous magic creature sanctuary, then I had no doubt that Dumbledore would be as well. So, it wouldn't be wrong to say I avoided the castle for a while as I tried to think of my options.

I didn't have many. I could go into hiding and hope I had enough skills to do so without being noticed by even advanced wizards—having only barely passed my Newts and Owls, I didn't have any confidence in that plan. Or I could see what Dumbledore was offering and risk selling my life's work out to someone who was seemingly on the good side. The third option was to simply give up and hope I wasn't tortured by the dark wizards which was an obvious no-go.

As I struggled to gather my confidence to face Dumbledore, I mainly wandered the grounds and forest. Hagrid had warned me against the forest but I had handled creatures well enough that I felt confident in that much. It was avoiding the centaurs that would be the challenge. Yet, I hadn't seen or heard them at all during my walks. Not unless the crimson pair of eyes watching me in the distance was one of them.

They were unnerving, tucked low to the ground and shadowed, not blinking or growing closer, just…staring. Asking Hagrid informed me that he hadn't seen anything with red eyes but they had rather intelligent wolves in the forest about that size so perhaps them. The feeling I got from them though, was hardly those of a wolf. Legilimency was helpful in that aspect. While controlling or understanding a creature's actions was difficult even with a simple creature like a pixie, I could still get the general feelings that were being aimed at me from most beasts.

If a creature was a threat or dangerous or hunting; that was the easiest feeling. Friendly beasts were slightly harder because what I might deem as a friendly approach might not be the same for them. A dragon might swing their tail around toward me like how one might offer a handshake to a friend, but this would obviously not be friendly when it would kill or severely injure me upon impact. Still, what I got from those eyes was something… strange.

Confusion would be a good way to describe it. A sense of uneasiness, perhaps. It wasn't dangerous, per se, but wasn't kind either. I could usually get a vague sense of size too when I searched for a feeling. With this beast though, it changed like smoke. Large, small, wide, thin. It felt as though its form constantly shifted and moved but I didn't know any creature with red eyes that did that. A Dementor or Lethifold perhaps but neither of them would be in the Forbidden Forest nor did they have eyes. It wasn't until after I'd spoken to Dumbledore that it finally revealed itself.

I wasn't exactly thrilled about having a Grim following me around but had no choice given my current situation. Dumbledore's offer was a simple one that I already had my suspicions about. I would be an apprentice under the Care of Magical Creatures' professor, Kettleburn, who looked well on his way to retirement in the next few years. Alongside that position, I was to offer my services to any incoming students who may need my help as well as do a substitute role for professors if anything came up. Then, of course, the obvious.

Dumbledore wanted me to continue my research on runes and legilimency, providing him with reports every few months on my progress or if any significant step was made. He left it to my discretion, though his eagerness was palpable, and I begrudgingly agreed. I needed something to take my mind off what happened and he was providing me with that, a stable job, room and board, and anything I would need to work. The only downside was the feeling of selling myself to the devil and the fact that if I wished to sell or buy products outside of Hogwarts I would need either an escort, a middleman, or a reliable disguise.

I knew it was partially for my protection but also partially so he had more control of what was going in and out of my new work shed just outside the forest. So, I vowed that I would also do everything my way and if that involves helping students cause trouble, I would gladly take advantage of that loophole. If anyone bothers to try and ask for my help. I'm not exactly sociable with this other problem.

By the time summer was ending, the Grim had suddenly decided that I was safe enough to approach and hadn't left my side. I had thankfully not run into the Divination professor—who would undoubtedly faint at the sight—but even among the professors and ghosts I had been quick to become a living spectacle. The ghosts rather enjoyed the large, black, half-spectral creature that lumbered along behind me or at my side all hours of the night. During the day it seemed to shrink, but would still circle my legs or hang off my shoulder with its long, ghostly tail trailing behind me.

Dumbledore had thought it rather amusing when I'd gone into his office rather flustered about its appearance. I'd grown rather used to it though when all attempts to banish it failed. I was simply stuck having it with me which made the new year of students just that much better.

McGonagall hadn't been surprised when the young man's position as Kettleburn's apprentice had been announced at the first feast of the new year. She had initially been cautious of him given how he arrived—not just anyone accidentally flew a hippogriff onto Hogwarts' grounds—but Dumbledore had explained things well enough.

The hippogriff was once one of Hogwarts' flock but one who rarely visited and proved too untamed to be handled as the others were. The young man, one of the school's alumni from the Ravenclaw house. They had so many students coming in and out she struggled to keep track of them all unless they were exceedingly extraordinary in their coursework, which he was not. Being a half-blood only made it harder to remember him, since his last name wouldn't provide any real information like a Malfoy or a Weasley would. Given his mousiness and shy demeanor, he would have easily blended in with a majority of the students who stepped into her classroom.

That being said, she could tell Dumbledore was interested in him for other reasons, and she had her doubts as to how truthful he'd been about his supposed skills. He gave Farlan a room, protection within the Hogwarts halls, and a job position. A vague one that should have been written out eons ago, given the difficulty of teaching an apprentice on top of teaching classes, preparing for classes, grading, detentions, and all the other duties of a professor. Yet, he was obviously getting special treatment and Dumbledore hadn't told her why.

Could she have asked them directly? Yes, however, doing so so bluntly would undoubtedly say something about her and she just knew Dumbledore would tease her by speaking in some roundabout way. So, she went to find out herself. Or, well, she would have if Farlan hadn't found his newest attachment.

She'd initially been uneasy about the spectral Grim that followed him around. Any witch or wizard knew what a Grim sighting meant and yet, this one appeared… broken somehow. Farlan was obviously in no real danger of dying so long as he was within Hogwarts, and most victims fell dead within days of seeing one. He himself seemed concerned at first, but had either grown attached or had no way of dealing with it other than accepting it would follow him. That being said, the Grim made it impossible for her to follow him and find out what secrets he was holding, even as an Animagi. She only discovered what was going on by accident.

She hadn't been looking as she prepared for the incoming students and bumped into him just outside the library. Books and papers had fallen and she'd knelt to help him pick them up (she may not like him much because of her suspicions but wouldn't be rude just because of that). Lo and behold, the papers were filled with runic scripts. Some in patterns she'd never seen before. The books he had were on legilimency and magical creatures, and while those two would normally be two very unrelated fields of research, she happened to pick up an open scroll of notes about a creature's thought process and applications of legilimency.

The very thought of those two working in tandem sent a chill up her spine. She was suddenly very aware of why Dumbledore was interested in him and his studies, and how blind she'd been to never notice someone this skilled had once been seated right before her in her lessons. A hint of shame at her hasty judgment of him made her apologize to him—though he probably took it as an apology for running into him—and she ceased any further suspicions.

She wouldn't stop keeping an eye on him, of course. She wanted to know how his studies were going and how she could have missed him back when he studied at Hogwarts. He may be young but she was curious and wondered idly how she might be able to talk with him without it coming off as intrusive or awkward. Dealing with Dumbledore was hard enough but she never quite understood the younger generation. It would be a challenge but she had the confidence to try and befriend him now that she knew he wasn't an active threat to the school.

So, she readily clapped for him when he did an awkward bow toward the students, who idly applauded his position announcement. He was shy, as always, but now that she was properly looking at him, there was a spark of eagerness behind his gaze. One that faded rather quickly and turned to idle disappointment when the rumors started up.

While he was supposed to be an educational tool for the students—among his usual apprenticeship activities and his studies—it seemed that the Grim who went with him became a deterrent for such things. Those most actively spreading the rumors were the usual Slytherins though she'd occasionally caught the newest Weasley additions—twins—joking about him as well. She would have stepped in if needed but Farlan didn't seem to mind the rumors; obviously expecting them. The words generally rolled right off him as he passed students in the halls and no student dared to take the harassment any further given his status as an apprentice.

Dumbledore had made it very clear that he was given the same privileges as a professor; able to take and give house points as needed and hand out detentions as well. He was an adult, after all, and was quick to prove his capabilities when an incident broke out between some Slytherins and Gryffindors. Both sides were given detentions with their Head of House, points were deducted, and he proved himself skilled in wandwork by blocking the offensive spells as well as healing minor injuries that had already been given. It was an apt punishment for all sides and she felt relieved that the staff had gained someone sensible.

Or so she thought. More than once during the school year she could have sworn to have seen him talking with the Weasley twins, who had proven to be large handfuls with their pranks. They were, as far as she knew, some of the only students to talk to him. She saw him attempt a conversation with a few others—finding a library book, getting directions to class, or a tip handling magical creatures used in Kettleburn's lessons—but the Weasley twins were not studious at all. She brushed off the thought of Farlan helping the boys with their pranks until she was stuck dealing with the aftermath of one of them, which ended up painting an entire hallway a vibrant pink.

There had been a small, torn scroll on the ground and she thought she might have gained evidence as to who was behind the prank. Everyone knew it was the twins but there was rarely ever proof enough to punish them. So, when she picked up the papers to find a familiar runic scribble, she felt her hope at Farlan being sensible vanish. She had a choice then. Ignore that he was involved and hope he gained some sense or confront him about it. The latter would go against her plans to befriend him but the former would go against her morals as a professor of the school, and there was a chance for things to continue if he wasn't held accountable.

Begrudgingly, she decided confronting him would be for the best and hoped to talk some sense into him while also maintaining a somewhat open and friendly demeanor. She wasn't sure she could do it. He was young, in her eyes, and it was hard for her to not treat him like another one of her students but she hoped her constant mental reminders of him being an adult would help as she stepped up to his workshed.

He answered the door with a bit of noise—undoubtedly not expecting visitors—and upon seeing her there, he grew a bit hesitant. Even when he was in school she had been known to be rather strict.

"Hello, Professor. How can I… assist?" He asked, making her sigh lightly at the more formal title.

"Minerva is fine, Farlan," she said, having been calling him his name for some time now in an attempt to appear more friendly. "I came because there was an…event this morning in one of the halls where someone chose to do some redecorating." She saw him glance away for a very brief moment, giving away his knowledge of the event. "I came to you because I found this at the scene."

The young man grew more sheepish when she handed him the torn runic scroll, still speckled with pink paint, but she hadn't missed the quick flash of annoyance that flickered over him briefly. He hadn't expected the twins to leave evidence of his involvement.

"While I do not mind you interacting with the other students, I would like to remind you that you are here to help their education, not their damaging of school property."

"Apologies," he muttered, keeping his gaze turned away as he held tight to the scroll.

Seeing as that was the only response she'd get from him—and a rather curt response at that—McGonagall tried to ease some of the tension before it could settle into something unfavorable.

"I suggest you at least ensure that any further help is more subtle," she replied quietly, surprising him as he whipped to her in disbelief, "and preferably directed toward something more productive and less… destructive. We are all here to teach in our own ways, so do not take away that time from your other colleagues by making a mess of things, yes?"

He nodded numbly, still appearing shocked by her acceptance and she gave a short nod in return, starting to turn away before pausing to speak over her shoulder.

"I do hope you will share some of your studies with us. I've not seen that application of runes applied to objects before. You could teach us a few things too, I'm sure."

She walked off before he responded but smiled slightly to herself. He was definitely someone interesting that she would need to keep an eye on. Farlan Daggrow.

Breakfast at Hogwarts was a languid affair. Some students showed up to eat before class and some didn't, choosing instead to get those extra few minutes of sleep. Professors were even rarer with at least one being required to supervise but others eating in their rooms or offices.

Breakfast was also the one meal where Hogwarts Houses didn't matter. Any house could sit at any table, professors included. Though Slytherins tended to keep to themselves, even they would obtain the occasional Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff that would join them. Most students were too tired to bother complaining or fighting about it too. This left the morning meal times rather relaxing… usually.

I was seated at the end of the Gryffindor table, being the supervisor for the morning. I didn't mind given how peaceful breakfast was, though sleeping in was always preferred. I often stayed up late without realizing it, and today had been no different. Still, my plate was full of my favorite food—thick Belgian waffles with a light syrup drizzle, fruit, and a dashing of powdered sugar—and I had a mug of steaming hot black coffee waiting for my attention.

A muggle newspaper was flipped open in front of me and I was, as always, grateful for the charm that kept my meal heated as I read through this morning's articles. I barely noticed the set of redheads that slipped onto the bench across from me, though the Grim at my feet sensed them first and curled its ghostly tail closer around my ankles to prevent being stepped on.

"A muggle paper?"

"Why do you bother reading that?"

I lightly folded down the top enough to stare at them with blank, tired eyes before snapping it back up and turning the page. "Good morning to you too."

"Oh, come on," Fred complained.

"You can't still be mad at us about the paper thing, can you?"

"It was a year ago!" They both whined in annoyance.

I sighed lightly, moving to the next page. "It's been a long evening and while I will always be annoyed that you got me into trouble with Professor McGonagall, you should know I like my mornings spent in peace." I flipped the paper down again. "You two are the opposite of peaceful."

"Rude," George grumbled as I flicked the paper back up.

"Even we can behave for breakfast."

I went on to the last page. "February 16th of the last term. Two Slytherins were escorted to Madam Pomfrey for the tusk-sized icicles stuck in their nostrils."

The two twins exchanged small looks.

"Yeah…"

"Hate it when you do that."

"How do you remember the date and details like that?"

"It's a bit creepy."

"I have a good memory," I replied, finishing the paper and folding it to set aside. "Also, muggle newspapers are useful in telling when the Statute of Secrecy has been broken and what by. That, and their larger issues often have an effect on the wizarding world. World wars are larger examples. Muggles have their uses."

"Okay but then…"

"…how'd you get a hold of their paper?"

"You have one every week."

"I'm a half-blood. Grew up muggle and after graduating from Hogwarts I requested a weekly paper to keep track of things and job listings. Not everyone is scooped up by the Ministry."

They hummed as I sipped my coffee and glanced over at the Daily Prophet; my next read for the morning. An older man was grinning and waving on the front with his name plastered just under the moving photo in large font.

Cornelius Fudge!

New Minister of Magic

And His New Policies!

I wrinkled my nose a bit and chose to cut into my food instead. I was hardly interested in the man after hearing about his naïvety and obvious dislike of Dumbledore. Not that I'm a huge fan of his but he's not interested in the Ministry of Magic position. He doesn't need it but Fudge is scared to death anyway. He should be more scared of You-Know-Who, but he pretends everything is fine and dandy with him gone. It's the confidence of his followers that scare me. A real Minister should be hunting them down instead of trying to pretend a war never happened.

"Didn't expect you to be a fan of sweets," Fred said then, stopping me mid-bite.

"An adult isn't allowed to like waffles?" I challenged, taking another bite and setting aside thoughts of the Minister for later pondering.

"Dunno. You seem more like an English breakfast type." George shrugged as I hummed, realizing something.

"So, why are the resident pranksters here to disturb my breakfast?" I asked idly, stabbing at a strawberry and twirling it on my fork as they both glanced away innocently. "You're hardly the type to sit around for a chat judging my breakfast. What do you want?"

"Who says we want anything?"

Do they really think that will work? "Okay," I said with a shrug, starting to rise from my seat. "I've got some work to do for this afternoon's class, so I'll just—"

Both twins grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back down, hissing under their breaths.

"Okay, fine!"

"Don't be like that, Farlan!"

I settled back in my seat and raised a brow, going back to my coffee as I waited for them to talk. They had a bit of a silent conversation between them before they checked no one was listening and leaned forward to speak in hushed tones.

"Two things," Fred said, holding up two fingers.

"One, did you hear about Professor Quirrell?"

I gave them confused looks. "What about him? He went on a trip abroad to study, from what I heard."

"Yeah, but do you really believe that?"

"P-Poor s-stuttering Professor Quirrell going off to fight vampires?"

My brows furrowed in both confusion as to what they were getting at, and in mild scolding for their mocking of a previous professor. "You shouldn't mock people for their imperfections, and he was a Muggle Studies professor. Why would he be chasing vampires?"

The twins ignored my scolding and instead looked a bit surprised.

"You didn't know?"

"He's super interested in the Dark Arts stuff. We went to travel and expand his knowledge on that."

"Said he might find some vampires jokingly in one of our last lectures."

Something about that unnerved me. Plenty of people are interested in the Dark Arts. Doesn't make them one of his followers, I mentally scolded myself.

"Okay. So what?" I said in response. "He's branching out his studies. Why tell me this?"

"Well…"

"Rumor has it he'll be back next term."

"Some say as the Dark Arts professor."

Fred shrugged. "Anybody but Snape if you ask me."

George nodded in his agreement as I rolled my eyes and finished off my meal. Most of the students didn't care for Severus Snape. He was a strict professor with a personal bias toward Slytherins. I never really minded him much and, in return, he rarely bothered with me. It was a silent, mutual agreement to leave each other alone unless absolutely necessary. A truce.

"Okay. What was the other thing you two needed? Be quick because it's almost time for lessons."

The devilish smirk that came over their faces told me everything I needed to know, and I sighed; dropping my chin onto my hand.

"Which Slytherin did what this time?"

Summer break brought about a few interesting things. As the new term edged closer, the professors became busier and more often required help from Farlan. It wasn't unusual for him to be called upon right before breaks ended, as it allowed the professors to better manage their time preparing for returning and new students. He didn't mind it much either, given he often needed reminding that breaks from his research were required in order to stay functioning.

Madam Pomfrey had already gotten after him a few times for his slim, frazzled form and the dark shadows under his eyes. He sheepishly admitted to getting carried away and she, in return, threatened quite a few things if he didn't better care for himself. He did his best when she nearly summoned McGonagall. The professors had begun to see their scolding-mother and awkward-son dynamic and knew that she was the easiest way to get to him.

Still, it was hard for him to get into a schedule of self-care when his studies began to be more fruitful. The legilimency was progressing well and had a good portion of his attention, but was one of the main causes for the severe migraines he'd been getting. Overusing his skills in his excitement was quite common when things were going well, after all.

He still couldn't control many creatures though. He'd progressed from being able to feel the emotions and general thoughts of a pixie to doing the same with a larger creature: the hippogriff. Controlling the creatures was a whole different issue.

Despite what many wizards believe, most magical creatures were very intelligent and had a thought process that was rather unknown to people. Studying creatures and how they react to problems had been the main focus of Farlan's initial work. He could not control anything if he didn't know how its mind worked. Hippogriffs were more prideful and reacted to problems far differently than gnomes. Same with pixies and thestrals and bowtruckles. Each thought differently which made legilimency far more difficult.

Then, even when Farlan thought he had an idea, trying to force a creature to act a certain way became harder. To act out of character meant fighting the creature's mentality and basic instinct, often resulting in a failed attempt, a headache, and a rather disgruntled creature. Trying to do something the creature might react with anyway had more success but it was less "forcing" the creature to make that choice and more asking it to. A bad relationship with the creature meant failure and a good relationship meant there was a chance of success. Even with a friendly creature though, there was still a chance they would refuse.

Legilimency became less of a tool for forcing or controlling a creature and more of an opportunity to negotiate with one if it liked you enough. The more likely a creature was to do a task you wanted, the higher chance it would happen. Want a pixie to tug someone's hair? The mischievous little creature was usually glad to. Want a thestral to tear a person limb from limb? Yeah, right. While fully capable of trying, it wasn't in their nature. They were more likely to flee from a threat.

Still, progress was progress and Dumbledore was smiling away happily with Farlan's reports. The Headmaster took an avid interest in his rune work as well, though Farlan suspected it was to make him feel better and less worried about the obvious danger his legilimency was putting him in.

The runes had gone well though. While he still sold his usual runic items—creature cages that were self-cleaning, warming cloaks, water-resistant boots, outerwear, etc.—he'd begun looking further into what he could create with the runes.

Written runes on paper were hardly worth the effort, as the Weasley twins had helped him discover. The effect was instantaneous and weak, useful only to make a flash bomb or confetti popper, for example. To progress further, one needed to change the material used and how the runes were written. This meant using rocks, wood, and bone and carving, etching, or painting the runes. This increased the effectiveness of the casting but also made it permanent. You couldn't change the rune after it was done and the finished product had to be precise.

Painting was also less effective than carving and combining the two was the best way to keep magic in the runes and allowed one to top up the magic when the script was depleted. Take a wooden block, carve out the runes, and paint them with natural dye or blood, and you now had a block of wood that could—depending on what runic pattern was carved into it—become something different. Storage for water, an object with the weight of a brick, a fence post capable of encasing a creature if there were more connected to it.

The possibilities were almost endless. Farlan reconstructed the hippogriff paddock fence with such a thing and so long as it was restocked with magic every year, it could easily hold the creatures without the issue of them knocking it down. It doubled as security too. Runes were changed, obviously; since words, language, meaning, and intent were vital when carving and creating patterns.

Place the right sequence of runes into the wood of, say, Farlan's work shed and now the shed was not only dust free but also protected from being unlocked with magic. A key was required and those who tried were lightly hexed to sport deer antlers for a few hours. The twins were the first obvious culprits that encountered that one.

However, Farlan wanted to progress this idea further. If one needed to change the runes, it would be impossible after they were carved. The runes would just need to be destroyed and redone again elsewhere and that wasn't always something that could be done. Why tear into a wall of one's home to destroy a rune, be forced to repair that section, and carve runes elsewhere? It was a waste of time, effort, and resources. What Farlan needed was a way to create runic patterns spontaneously, have them be functional, and also adjustable.

Surprisingly enough, it was thanks to Professor Trelawney that an idea was brought to mind. Farlan had yet to run into her, thankfully, as the Grim would have given the woman a stroke. However, he had overheard some of her students as they prepared for end-of-year tests. They were complaining about how divination with runic bones caused too many complications when it came to interpretation. Seeing them tossing bones carved with runes around gave him an idea and he was quick to get started on it.

All he needed was to find the best material to create the runic pieces he needed and he would be set. This required experimenting with both the material being carved and what dye was being added to it. Mixing and matching materials made for poor sequencing between runes in a pattern. Certain materials were better at some patterns than others (runic stones did well as heat conductors but runic wood would combust into flames if given the same task). The solution was the perfect middle ground and one that Madam Pomfrey would undoubtedly disapprove of… bones and blood.

Animal bones, obviously, though Farlan toyed with what bones from what creatures worked best. Magical creatures withheld magic far better than normal ones, after all. When it came to the blood though, Farlan discovered something strange.

Animal blood worked fine enough. Magical creature blood was a fifty-fifty chance. Some creatures' blood held magic well, others not so much. Human blood though—much less, blood from a wizard—had far more favorable results, especially if said wizard was casting the magic the runes were to hold. Hence, why Farlan was severely scolded about his mental health when Hagrid stumbled across him half passed out bleeding from his wrist into a bowl. He'd once again gotten carried away.

From there though, progress was easy. Runes were carved into bone and painted with blood. Once dried, they could be easily carried in a bag and when needed, placed in the desired pattern and injected with magic to perform the final result. Rules obviously still had to be followed, like with any magic spell, but it was the progress he'd been searching for and it came just in time for the next term.

Said term brought with it something entirely unexpected. Namely, a young boy by the name of Harry Potter.