ENCOUNTERS
It is only at the first encounter that a face makes its full impression on us
Arthur Schopenhauer
"I'm coming, sheesh!" Hestia shouted rubbing her eyes. She groggily made her way through her dim apartment, deftly dodging scattered furniture. She hissed as she bumped her shin against her very solid table.
She reached her door, where the incessant banging was still going on. She was sure her neighbours would be all up in her business for this. That old lady in number three was dotty nag, and had it out for Hestia.
"What!" she wrenched the door open.
Tonks stood there, her hand raised up to continue banging. The younger girl looked almost surprised before her look turned to annoyance.
"I've been knocking for forever." Tonks pushed past Hestia roughly and barreled inside. Once past the threshold she dropped at the wall before flicking the light switch up. Hestia hissed and raised her arms up.
Hestia's apartment was simply adorned, not because it was tasteful but because the young recruit couldn't afford much else. There was a small couch, a fleecy blanket thrown over the old and faded leather. A single dark armchair and a small coffee table made of hardwood – a steal as Hestia had called it, completed the set.
The walls were a pale soft blue, a luminous clock face dominated one wall and a smattering of 'tasteful' art pieces were scattered about, to give the place some respectability as Hestia put it. Tonks didn't have any appreciation for the art so it never mattered to her.
The narrow corridor she knew led to the small kitchen, bath and finally Hestia's room. It was small but felt cozy.
"Why aren't you ready?" Tonks rounded up on her friend her brow furrowed and arms crossed tightly across her chest, her boot clad foot tapping against the floor.
"Well good morning to you too, Nymphadora." Hestia stifled a yawn, closing her door. She moved past her unwanted guest, absentmindedly scratching at her side.
"Don't call me that!" Tonks protested her hair bursting into a fiery scarlet. Hestia's eyes rolled slightly as she waved dismissively at her friend.
"Why aren't you ready?" Tonks asked, finally taking her friend in; surprised. Hestia was still in her sleep wear; a ratty tank top and a small pair of boy shorts, exposing her long athletic legs.
Hestia gave her friend a critical look, wondering if she was stupid. She took in Tonks, in her barely pressed robes and her badge shining brightly at her breast.
Hestia sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger and massaged her temple; she was going to have a headache today she just knew it.
"Well?" Tonks prompted her hair slowly turning red, the tips a bright crimson.
"Gee, maybe it's because briefing isn't till 8 and it's only…" Hestia turned to look at her wall clock and threw her hands up dramatically to point, "6:30."
"Oh." Tonks said, her cheeks flushed pink and her shoulders slumped. She was just now realising that she was quite early.
"Sorry." Tonks offered, resolutely avoiding Hestia's gaze. The younger girl started to fidget and play with the hem of robes.
Hestia huffed muttering curses under her breath.
"I'm happy that you are excited, but some of us need all the help we can get to look our best and sleep; sleep is key." Hestia grumbled as she shuffled to her bedroom.
Tonks looked around awkwardly, not knowing what to do now. She flopped down on the small couch, leaned back and plonked her boots up on the coffee table.
"You better not have your grubby boots on my table." Hestia's voice drifted from the open bedroom door.
Tonks winced and quickly took her feet off the table. How the other girl knew, Tonks couldn't tell. Maybe she had a monitoring charm up? She heard Hestia shuffling about and then the customary sound of the shower running.
Tonks played with her wand holster mechanism as she waited. The holster had been a gift from her dad, when she had graduated from the academy. Her father had had it enchanted, to prevent from anyone but her summoning her wand from it.
She gave a quick flick of her wrist and grinned when her wand snapped into her palm, the customary warmth radiating from it. She and her wand had been through thick and thin and they would be going on more adventures.
"Are you going to keep stroking your wand then?"
Tonks whirled around startled, but she had forgotten that she was seated – she tripped and found herself on the floor in a tangled heap. The girl looked up at and noticed that Hestia was now in uniform, her hair still damp.
"Honestly?" Hestia said with fond exasperation shaking her head, "And you want people to believe you're a badass?" Hestia pulled her clumsy friend up.
Tonks puffed her red cheeks embarrassed, "Not my fault your chair was in the way." Tonks defended herself, her hair turning a soft peach in embarrassment.
"Right." Hestia agreed, nodding with faux patience. "We should get going, maybe grab a bite, before heading in." The older girl suggested.
"Why can't you just make breakfast?" Tonks asked, trying to fix her messy robes. The clumsy girl gestured vaguely to the kitchen.
"Well that explains why you got here early; you damn freeloader." Hestia pulled out her wand and swished it towards the pink hair girl.
Tonks yelped as her robes straightened out and her hair pulled itself into a tidy ponytail.
"You always pull it too tight." The pink haired girl gingerly felt her hair and winced.
"And you never pull it enough. C'mon, don't wanna be late now." Hestia pulled the other girl out of the apartment, locking it behind them.
The two quickly exited the building and joined the early morning traffic, their robes shifting and blending in with the bland coats people wore.
Senior Auror Shacklebolt had been having a wonderful morning. He had gotten up early as usual and had felt his morning exercise ease by, an unusual energy having possessed him. The girl at his usual coffee place had given him an extra milk-scone, the one with the raisins, Merlin bless her.
He had arrived early at the Auror Office and had filed his report from last night. Dawlish had a hungover which was always amusing to watch. All in all, things were going well; that should have been his first clue.
"I beg your pardon ma'am?" Shacklebolt ever polite asked, his tone belying his disbelief.
Director Bones quirked an eyebrow, a genial smile pulling at her lips. Shacklebolt looked over at Rufus, the older man was standing stiffly to the Director's desk. The older man shook his head in warning, the movement barely perceptible. Warning bells started ringing in Shacklebolt's head.
"I was not aware that you had failed your physical, Auror Shacklebolt." Director Bones sunk back in her high backed chair, her tone conversational.
"I did pass my last physical, Madam Bones…" Shacklebolt began.
"Good." She nodded, a satisfied expression on her face, "I was afraid you had not heard me the first time or that you were unable to read the files placed before you." Madam Bones continued, a smirk playing on her lips.
Shacklebolt suppressed the urge to sigh; that would not be very professional after all. He took a glance at Head Auror Scrimgeour but the old lion was no help, his lips pursed tightly. Clearly the Director and her Head Auror had spoken on this same matter before and as usual the Director had gotten her way.
Shacklebolt looked at the two files before him; Hestia Jones and Nymphadora Tonks. New recruits, recently graduated, a very early graduation for the latter in fact. The two certainly had potential, but what Director Bones was suggesting was highly irregular.
"I know it is highly irregular, having fresh recruits drafted into Special Operations." The director commented.
Shacklebolt wondered if she was reading his mind before he quickly dismissed the idea. Surely he would have felt such an intrusion, he thought.
"Yes," Shacklebolt agreed, choosing his words carefully. "It takes years to get assigned to Spec Ops, there will be grumbles. I am not sure that they have the skills necessary."
"Jones got top marks in all her classes, she is efficient and effective at any task assigned to her. She has both the power and disposition. She has potential." Rufus made his first contribution to the conversation.
Shacklebolt peered down at the girl's file and could see that Rufus was spot on. The young recruit had gotten top marks, especially in tracking and stealth. She took initiative and completed her tasks quickly and efficiently. He would not have minded having her on his team in a few years after she got some experience under her belt. The other recruit though.
"What about Tonks?" Shacklebolt asked.
Scrimgeour grimaced, his lips pressed so thin they disappeared. Director Bones' smirk widened; she gestured for her second to continue.
"The girl is unorthodox," Scrimgeour started, mulling over his words. "A tad immature…"
"She is young, it is to be expected." Madam Bones waved away the concerns.
"She is often late." Scrimgeour pointed out.
"That happened only during her first week here, don't exaggerate." Madam Bones chastised.
"She's reckless…"
"An auror should fear nothing…"
"She's overzealous…"
"She's just motivated…"
"She has no respect…"
"We will beat it into her…"
"The girl has non regulation hair." Scrimgeour finally bit out, he was panting slightly, his face flushed and his hair bristling.
"Really?" Madam Bones let out a throaty chuckle. "That's your gripe? Pink hair? So are we going to start telling the women and men in the department that they cannot express themselves through some stylistic choices."
Shacklebolt watched as his two superiors went back and forth arguing about the merits of hair colour and style. He doubted his fellow captains would believe him if he told them.
"You're just mad she took your likeness and impersonated you." Madam Bones accused.
"Damn straight, she shouldn't make a habit of impersonating her superiors just to get out of a task." Rufus bristled in the face of his boss' amusement.
"That's the exact reason we recruited her before she even graduated." Madam Bones rebuffed.
"You've seen her marks in Disguise and Concealment." Bones stated at her Head Auror.
"I admit her marks are decent." Scrimgeour's jaw tightened and he shifted uneasily on his feet, a scowl crept on his face.
"Decent he says." Bones scoffed, shaking her head. She turned to Shacklebolt and jabbed her finger at the file. "Tell me Shacklebolt, is that decent?"
Shacklebolt startled for a moment, he shifted uneasily in his seat, before he looked at the file and marks in question. He had initially skipped over them and had looked more at the character assessment and reports section.
"These are quite exceptional." He offered.
"Well at least you're more honest." Bones leaned back in her seat.
The witch folded her arms in front of her and levelled her two subordinates with a stern gaze, pining them. All hints of playfulness gone.
"The girl shattered the records and she was not even trying. The fact that she can imitate men speaks to her ability and if initial assessments are right, she has yet to fully realise her ability." She let that thought sink in.
Shacklebolt looked back at the file and saw that there had been no mention of any of that. He peered back at the Director; he quickly worked through what Bones was not saying – the file had been modified.
"You want to groom the next great infiltration specialist." Shacklebolt stated finally.
"Bingo." Bones grinned, throwing a victorious look at Scrimgeour. In that moment Shacklebolt realised that he had been a subject of discussion at some point as well.
"Yes," the head auror interjected finally having regained his balance. "The director believes, and I agree, that we have a lack of intelligence officers in the field."
"But what about the Magical Intelligence Office?" Shacklebolt asked. He had done a stint in the office; they were responsible for investigations, espionage and counter intelligence. They handled nearly all the tips and information network that the Auror Office had.
"Underfunded and understaffed." Came the bitter response from the director. "The incident with Quirrel showed us that there was a flaw in our system. We need to get better and this is the way."
Madam Bones stood up and Shacklebolt found himself quickly straightening up as he faced the powerful woman. She stalked towards him and placed her hands on his armrests, effectively trapping him in. Her perfume surrounded him; a blend of spice and mint. She leaned forward and Shacklebolt leaned back – he could make out the individual flecks of blue in her steely gray eyes. He cleared his throat and swallowed, and blinked back the slight perspiration on his brow.
"We need active operatives – operatives capable of going in and out the cesspits of criminals and getting what we need, when we need it." The woman stared at him, her eyes flinty.
"What is my directive madam." Shacklebolt asked, his voice firm but quiet. Bones nodded in approval, and moved away. Shacklebolt let out a breath and just managed not to tip over at the sudden weight change.
"Train them, beat them into shape, literally if you have to." The older woman said unflinchingly. "Make them and anymore recruits I find the best."
"Understood." Shacklebolt stood and offered a respectful nod before quickly leaving the office.
The two senior officers were left in silence, each mulling on their thoughts.
"I hope you're right about this Amelia." Rufus said quietly.
"You know I'm right, we need to change." Amelia rubbed the bridge of her nose, agitated. They had had this conversation multiple times before.
"I hope you can stick to that when those recruits come back in body bags or worse." Rufus said grimly, his eyes solemn.
With those parting words Scrimgeour left the office, leaving Amelia alone. Damn him for getting the last word in, she thought. She knew the risks, more than he could imagine, she had been in the young girls' shoes before, but she knew that they could and would succeed, she would make sure of it.
Amelia stared at her drinks cabinet – she needed a drink, she nodded to herself. She moved to her liquor cabinet, and pulled out a glass and poured a finger of whiskey into it. She stared at her hand, why was she shaking so much?
He sucked in a noisy breath and let it out in an explosive puff. He did it again, then again, his chest tightening with every exhale. His hands trembled, sending minute quakes skittering up his shoulders and mingling with his heartbeat.
He gripped the sink, his knuckles as white as the stark porcelain. He looked up and his reflection stared back in the mirror. It was him – perfectly coifed hair, a prominent chin and a wide mouth. Yet his skin was pale and clammy, dark rings underpinned his eyes.
"Get it together man." He whispered through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt. "Just a bunch of children, you've handled that before."
He opened the faucet, the old pipes groaning and rumbling before spewing out water. He placed his hands under the cold torrent and scooped some before splashing his face. He sighed in contentment, before reaching blindly for a fluffy towel and dried himself off.
He pushed himself away from the sink, inhaling deeply, "You're Gilderoy Lockhart, adventurer extraordinaire. This should be a cakewalk." He squared his shoulders and nodded confidently to his reflection.
Giving his appearance one last look, he left the bathroom and entered his office. He quickly made his way to his desk, picked up a sheaf of parchment, glanced at it to make sure it was the right one.
Steeling himself, he opened the door to the classroom and was greeted by many pairs of eyes. For a bare second, he froze, before his back straightened, a well-practiced smile taking over his expression.
"Good morning students. My name, for those of you who do not know, is Gilderoy Lockhart, and I will be your Defense teacher this year." He strode into the room, holding his head up with practiced poise.
He swept his eyes across the room to gauge his audience's reaction. The second year students blinked back at him and he noticed one or two murmured conversations. That was fine, he thought.
The previous professor may have liked his classroom drab and dark, not him. He had ordered the décor changed – thrown away the diagrams of grotesque beasts and plants. Now the place was much more open and airy, the windows letting in adequate light and the stench of garlic aired out. He was not going to be spending the better part of a year in a room he couldn't breath in.
The front of the class was dominated by a large open space, for demonstration. Targets, dummies lined one wall for practice. With a mere wave the whole room could be cleared away, to create more space.
Lockhart stopped by his desk, placed by a standing blackboard and dumped his sheaf of parchment there.
"I will just be going through the roll call here, just to make sure I have you all…" His patented winning smile flashed and he got a few hesitant smiles back.
He squinted down at the list of names, taking in the smooth cursive of the Headmistress. His fingers drummed against the wood of the desk, tapping a calming rhythm. He gave a small cough clearing his throat.
"Abbot, Hannah…" He looked up and saw a raised hand.
"Bones, Susan.." Another hand went up and on he went.
"Patil, Padma." Another hand went up, from a Ravenclaw girl of Indian descent.
"Potter….Hadrian." His slight falter was noticeable, and he caught the grimace from the green-eyed boy before he reluctantly raised his hand.
It seemed the young Potter was not a fan of his popularity, there was a story there, Lockhart mused before he dismissed it and continued the roll.
"Okay, so who can tell me about what you all learnt last year?" He asked and was not surprised when a few hands, notably from Ravenclaws, went up.
"Yes, you, young man, uh, Mr Boot." He referenced his register before pointing to a dark-haired boy.
"Last year we learnt about common beasts and pests found in the wilds as well as spells such as the Shield Charm and Knockback Jinx." The boy answered, calm and self assured.
Lockhart glanced down at his parchment to make sure that was right before he answered the boy with a smile.
"Right, take 5 points for that." Lockhart watched amused as the boy puffed himself up and shot a smug look across the room to his housemates.
"Who can give me a list of some common pests and beast one could encounter?" He asked and was happy to see a few more hands rise up to answer. So far so good, he mused.
"Yes miss Bones." He prompted.
The little redhead stood up a little too quickly and bumped against her desk. There was a titter of laughter and the girl flushed embarrassed.
"Quiet down now." He spoke loudly, flashing a smile at the students. He nodded and gestured for the girl continue.
"Um there are gnomes, fire crabs, pixies and um trolls…" The girl trailed off and glanced to one side of the class.
There was a burst of murmurs and a few more students glanced to one side. He noticed that most of those were directed to Potter. He wondered what the story was. Perhaps it had something to do with why he was sitting alone on his desk. Perhaps that was something he may want to look into. Still, he decided to ignore that.
"Alright." He moved off to the side, shaking his leg to get back some circulation. "Now who would like to volunteer for a demonstration."
No hands were forthcoming; he bit back a grimace and forced a smile. Things had been going so well.
"Come now, anyone?" He panned his eyes around, his smile becoming strained. None of the students met his eyes, most looking down at their desks.
Why did children have to be so difficult he thought to himself. Here he was trying to be a good teacher and they were making him look bad. If only – he thoughts derailed when a hand shoot up.
"Ah Miss Patil come on up." He said relieved.
He watched the young Ravenclaw shuffle up to the front, slightly nervous.
"Alright then, you'll need someone to duel with." His words caused some murmurs to break out. He noticed some of the Hufflepuff girls try their best to make themselves smaller.
"I can't very well throw spells at you my dear – that would be irresponsible of me." He joked and the girl offered him a slight chuckle.
"How about…" he raised his hand, searching before his eyes settled on a mop of black hair and green eyes; green eyes that were eyeing the girl intently.
"Mr Potter, come grace us with your presence." He pointed unerringly at the young boy. The boy stared back at him, eyes wide and clearly reluctant.
The raven haired boy came to the front, whispers following him as he passed the aisles. Lockhart noticed that Patil had gone stiff. Lockhart found himself unsurprised; there was much mystery and rumour surrounding the boy, the girl must have been nervous, facing off against the young celebrity.
The classroom had ample space for demonstration and had a built in dealing platform at the front. Luckily he had been briefed by the features of his classroom, else he might have looked the fool.
Lockhart quickly directed the two to stand on either side, facing each other. He raised his hand, gave his wand a flourish and gestured to floor under them. There was a subtle groan as the floor rose up a foot, creating a large raised strip. A blue shield shimmered into existence at the edges, surrounding the platform in high walls before they disappeared.
Murmurs broke out among the spectators and he noticed a few stand up to get a better view. A few were even taking notes.
"Okay." Lockhart clapped his hands, startling a few students. "Mr Potter, I would like you to raise up a shield – you remember the wand movement and incantation do you not?"
Hadrian pulled out his wand and held it on front of his body, he swiped the air in a smooth s shape and translucent shield covered most of his front.
"Good, good." Lockhart's smile was stiff and wooden. It had not escaped his notice that Potter had spoken no incantation, clearly he had chosen the right student for this.
"Now miss Patil the knockback jinx..." he turned to the young girl.
"Flipendo." Patil intoned.
Lockhart squawked and weaved to the side, his arms flailing as Patil moved forward her wand cutting across her front and jabbing forward. The pale streak of pink crossed the distance in flash and struck the shield. Hadrian took a step back surprised, but his shield held, only shimmering from the impact.
"I didn't say cast." Lockhart spoke sharply and turned to the girl drawing himself up.
"S-sorry professor." The young girl squeaked and dipped her head.
Lockhart looked at the girl steadily; her head was bowed in apparent apology, her slim shoulders pulled inward. She looked and came across contrite, he didn't buy it. He glanced at her opponent and found something curious.
Potter was eyeing him; the young boy was tense, like a coiled spring, his green eyes dark with suspicion. Lockhart swallowed, biting back what he wanted to say. He took a breath and searched for something to say.
"Five points from Ravenclaw, for…" Lockhart looked for the appropriate word.
"Overzealousness sir?" a voice chimed in.
"Yes let's go with that." Lockhart snapped his fingers. "Thank you, Mr Boot."
"Now, as I was about to instruct before Miss Patil got ahead of herself." Lockhart spared a glance to the girl who had the decency to grimace.
He moved to the side, in clear view of the entire class, bringing his wand to bear.
"The knockback jinx is a simple spell, it pushes the target back, a few steps or so back. It is easily countered by a simple protego." He surveyed the class and noticed that there were some bored looks. He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his cheek jumping in agitation and tried his best to keep a sour look from his face.
"But there is a way to increase its power." He continued and noticed heads start to perk up in across the class. He allowed himself a smirk.
"Mr Potter." Lockhart called to the dark haired boy. His shield was still up, shimmering slightly in front of him. It was impressive that he had maintained the spell for that long.
"I see you still have your shield up. Recast it, the strain must be getting to you." Lockhart advised.
Potter opened his mouth before he shut it. The boy frowned and looked at him confused before he shrugged to himself. The young Ravenclaw slashed his wand to the side, his shield charm dissipating into motes of magical energy. Another wave of his wand saw another shield pop into brief view before fading into translucency.
"Good, good." Lockhart nodded. "I will target your left, move to the other side please." He said loudly.
Potter immediately took a step and a half to his right, his legs lightly bent, ready to spring away in a moment. Lockhart raised an eyebrow; the stance was similar to some he had seen in the dueling circuits. Was Potter trained?
Going back to his lesson, Lockhart brought his wand forward, jaw tightening in concentration. He let his magic flood his wand and let it bundle up, building. His wand shook, the tip started to glow, a vibrant pink. He took an abrupt step forward and, in the same motion, jabbed his wand forward. He grinned to himself; that was perfect form.
The spell streaked across the room and slammed into the shield with a dull thud. Cracks spider-webbed across the shield's surface before it shattered, sending immaterial shards flying. Potter staggered back, his eyes wide with surprise rather than pain.
"It broke!" Someone exclaimed as murmurs and excited whispers broke out among the class. Lockhart grinned toothily and raised his arms up to the class.
"That's wicked!"
"You alright there, Mr Potter?" Lockhart asked, chuckling. It wouldn't do to hurt the darling of the school.
"I'm okay professor." The young boy nodded, grinning back.
"Now Miss Patil." Lockhart turned to the brown skinned girl; the girl's golden eyes were shining with curiosity.
"Tell me, how do you think I did that?" Lockhart posed the question.
"It seemed like you let the magic build – like you held it back." The girl spoke slowly, her nose scrunched.
"Good, exactly." Lockhart spun turning to the rest of the class.
"You hold the magic, like a dam, holding back the waters until you're ready and then – release." He nodded to himself, quite proud of his analogy.
He gestured for Potter to make his shield. The boy gave a lingering look to the girl across him before a shield shimmered into view. Lockhart moved until he was behind Patil hovering. He noticed the girl tense when he stepped behind her.
"Now miss Patil, cast the spell, but hold it in before you release, let it build and then release. Simple as that." Lockhart instructed, he turned and smiled gaily at the rest of the class.
The young girl nodded slowly and took a fortifying breath. She closed her eyes, and bit her lip, holding her wand tight.
"Flipendo." Her wand glowed and sparked, energy streaking and fizzing about.
That was disappointing, Lockhart thought, casting a frown at the girl. There was a snort, "She sure showed him." A voice tittered from the back of the class. Quiet laughter broke out among the class.
"Shh, the professor will hear you." A voice hissed.
Patil ducked her head, her hand clenched tight around her wand. She sniffed and her small shoulders shook. Lockhart internally groaned. Was she going to cry? He ought to do something right? He glowered at the boys who had thrown around their comments.
"Hey, don't worry about it." Potter was suddenly beside her, having moved so swiftly Lockhart had barely seen him move. The boy's hand hovered just above hers before with a grimace he stopped. The boy threw a glare at the class, his dark expression silencing them.
"They don't know anything, okay?" He murmured to her.
"Don't try to force it, take your time. Maybe, try having the magic loop back joining the stream to your wand, a positive feedback loop." Potter gestured with his hands, spinning them back in a circle to demonstrate.
Lockhart himself didn't understand the reference but watched as the girl nodded hesitantly. Potter took up position at the other end once more and gave her a nod. He really should have said something, but if the children were as driven as this, who was he to get in the way.
Miss Patil held her wand at eye level, watching the tip. Her eyes flicked to Potter who nodded firmly. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. There was utter silence in the classroom as everyone collectively held their breath. A mote of light reddened her wand tip, faint and flickering, but it was there. The girl opened her eyes and took a step, her wand spearing forward, "flipendo ."
The spell whizzed across the distance and impacted dead centre on the shield. There was a sound like cracking glass and Potter grunted. A spider-web pattern crisscrossed the shield.
"Excellent!" Lockhart cheered. The girl looked proud, she was grinning at Potter before the smile quickly turned to something unsure.
"It didn't break." She said, put off.
"You still did great." Potter offered letting his shield dissipate. She looked back at him and nodded stiffly.
Lockhart chuckled, "I daresay Mr Potter has been practicing his shield charm. You just need a bit more practice and I'm sure you'll be breaking all sorts of shields."
"Now back to your seat – not you Potter, you stay put." He quickly stopped the young boy from leaving.
"Now anyone else would like a go at cracking Potter's shield?" Lockhart would deny enjoying the groan Potter let out when nearly every hand shot up.
Dear Perenelle
I hope this letter finds you well. I remembered you said that I could write you and I know we haven't spoken since the incident and I hope its okay that I am sending this letter now.
I was hoping to ask if you know anything about cleansing rituals. I thought, since you have been around a long time – maybe you know something. Most of the books on rituals are in the restricted section in the library and I'm not allowed.
I don't know if you will even get this. I've given Hedwig the talisman, so she can find you. Hope you write back.
Regards,
Hadrian
Dear Hadrian,
I was so happy to receive your letter and am quite glad that the talisman I gave you is working just fine. Hedwig is such a lovely and polite girl.
I will ignore how you just called me old and say I do know a thing or two about rituals, I am a learned witch after all. But I would have to know what exactly it is you want to know. Rituals can be dangerous and I don't want you getting hurt.
Please give my greetings to your Aunt and little friend Padma. I hope to hear from you soon.
Your friend,
Perenelle.
Dear Perenelle,
I am looking into rituals because my account manager mentioned that I would need them to help remove the taint from the Potter Ancestral lands from the war.
Aunt Minnie is helping me with it, but I still want to know about rituals so I can help more and well it is my land after all.
Aunt Minnie says hello. Padma isn't talking much to me, she's not happy with me these days I'm afraid. I miss her.
Your friend,
Hadrian
Dear Hadrian,
I had suspected that to be the reason you wanted to know about rituals. I have sent along a selection of books with lovely Hedwig for you to do some research and familiarise yourself. I am trusting you not to do anything foolish with the material. I have already sent a letter to your aunt explaining the same, so do not think you can be sneaky little one.
I'm surprised to see you had a falling out with your friend; what happened?
Your friend,
Perenelle.
Dear Perenelle,
Thank you for the books. I will be careful, but did you have to tell aunt Minnie? She called me to her office and told me I can only read them during the free periods. She doesn't want me to slack off.
About Padma – well last year I got enchanted by a mirror, and didn't know. Padma figured it out pretty quick when she found it. I was embarrassed I guess. I avoided her and then the incident happened. I didn't get any letter over the summer and I thought maybe everyone thought I was dangerous to be around. Turns out an elf stole my letters.
I tried to tell her, but she doesn't want to listen to me. She doesn't believe me about the elf. You believe me right?
Your friend,
Hadrian.
Dear Hadrian,
You should listen to your aunt, she means well. I will tell you she got a fright last time.
Hadrian, even in my long life things like what happened that day can be hard to come to terms with. It is not easy doing it alone so don't push your friends away.
An elf stole your letters? That is quite unusual. Do you know why it would do such? I hope you've told your aunt, this seems concerning.
Padma is a lovely bright girl. I suggest you find a clever way to corner her and say you are sorry; bring a gift. Gifts are a great way to get us girls to forgive you, just don't overdo it.
I hope that the next time I hear from you, you will have made up. Till your next letter.
Your friend,
Perenelle
Hadrian shifted, feeling his muscles cramp from sitting so stiffly for so long. He had received a summons from aunt Minerva and had met her here, the headmaster's office. Well he wasn't actually in the headmaster's office but rather in the waiting room, - doing nothing but waiting.
The headmaster's office was in one of the towers, right at the top. The waiting room had a high ceiling and windows, letting in plenty of light. There was a notice board on one side with notifications and schedules pinned to it. A large desk with a large cabinet off to its side was across from him. He imagined that's where the Headmaster's aide and secretary sat, but she was absent today.
He deftly rolled the piece of elder wood between his fingers. Hadrian made sure to clean his wand regularly, and the polished finish revealed beautiful dark wood. His fingers followed the grain working over the knots and subtle bumps along the length. The wand hummed in his hand, pulsing in time with his heartbeat, an extension of himself.
There was an odd sound then, a soft warble floating above him. Hadrian craned his neck up, searching – he met dark beady eyes staring down at him unblinking, high from the rafters.
"Hello." Hadrian offered finally.
The creature blinked and shook its head, followed by its whole body. Hadrian watched as red and gold plumage shimmered in the shadows, sending flickers of amber flame dancing. The bird lifted its large wings and glided down. Hadrian's eyes tracked the large bird as it made a lazy circle and drifted down. The bird landed on small marble feature, some uninteresting pillar.
The bird warbled again; the sound oddly echoing and lilting. Hadrian thought it sounded like singing. The bird was large, nearly half his size and that was not counting its tail feathers – beautiful red and gold feathers that seemed to go on forever. Every time the bird shifted, the light caught its feathers, setting them alight.
"Wow, you are beautiful." Hadrian whispered.
The bird crooned, turning its long neck and displaying its profile. Hadrian chuckled in amusement, well used to vain avians. Hadrian reached into the inner pocket of his robes and pulled out some treats he always kept on hand for Hedwig; he knew his proud familiar would be very annoyed at him, giving away what she considered hers.
Hadrian offered the treats, a mix of nuts and dried fruit to the bird. The bird considered him for a moment, black intelligent eyes weighing him. They bird looked back and forth between him and the treats, shifting its legs, swaying slightly. Hadrian offered a smile and kept his arm still, and hoped the bird did not notice his shaking knee.
His patience won out as the bird leapt from the pillar and whooshed down to the bench. It offered him another look before it slowly and tentatively reached out and plucked a treat from his palm, all the while one eye remained firmly on him.
Hadrian remained unmoving and slowly the bird relaxed in his presence and took another treat and another until it began to gorge itself on the food. Soon enough the treats were finished and the bird looked up at him expectantly. Hadrian couldn't help but chuckle.
"Either you were really hungry or are a glutton like Hedwig." He said pulling out some more treats.
The bird gave him an affronted look before picking up some more treats. Hadrian watched the bird eat before he felt a slight pressure against his magic. Hadrian let out a gasp of surprise as a familiar but odd sensation brushed against his mind, it was slow and tentative. Hadrian looked at his avian companion before nodding slowly. He took a fortifying breath before relaxing his mind.
Music was Hadrian's first sensation, the birds mind felt odd – there was light, warmth, and in the distance strings and harps thrummed, echoing with tinkling vibrations. Hadrian would have been lost in the sensation before feelings and impressions not his own drifted across the mental bridge and he felt its question.
"Hedwig is my familiar." Hadrian answered aloud a soft smile pulling at his lips
"She's a bird, like you. Except she's a being of cold. You feel warm though, so fire?" he continued and with some concentration imagined his familiar in flight. Hadrian wasn't sure if the image came across but he felt the other bird's mind sharpen for a moment.
The bird crooned, nodding its head. Hadrian felt the bird's mind retreat, leaving an echo of lilting chords in his mind. Hadrian gripped his bench tightly, a bout of dizziness momentarily putting him off-balance. The bird trilled, concern exuding off its being. Hadrian merely waved it aside.
"I'm okay, I think." Hadrian blinked rapidly, clearing his vision.
The bird crooned and bumped his shoulder with its head. Tentatively he brought his now empty hand and slowly traced down the bird's long neck. The feathers felt like the softest silk and a pleasant warmth travelled up his arm and into his centre. He felt his whole body tingle and his wand hum excitedly in his holster.
"You're a phoenix, aren't you?" Hadrian asked softly, eyes glittering with wonder.
The bird instead of nodding, let out a trill; a high and musical note, that reverberated across the room and settled in his bones.
"Are you someone's familiar?" Hadrian wondered aloud, that was a mistake.
The phoenix drew back, flaring its wings, and let out a hiss. Hadrian quickly shifted back and raised his hands up, panicked.
"Sorry, sorry." He quickly said, waving his hands. His eyes found the birds talons – they looked deceptively thin but were long and sharp. He did not want to find himself on the end of those.
It took a lot of treats before the phoenix calmed down. Hadrian, afraid of offending the legendary magical creature simply stayed quiet and basked in the bird's presence, while the bird enjoyed the young boy's grooming.
That was how the three professor's found them. A phoenix dozing against his chest while Hadrian was gently stroking its back.
"I must say I am impressed Mr Potter." Headmaster Dumbledore smiled softly at the young boy. Hadrian scrambled up, pushing the phoenix away. The bird let out a squawk, flapping it wings. Hadrian eyed the three adults warily, his eyes kept flitting to the aged headmaster. The old wizard's blue eyes sparkled mischievously from behind his half moon glasses.
The Deputy Headmistress simply looked on exasperated, her lips quirked into a small smile. The younger professor accompanying them looked at the bird with wide eyes. The phoenix did not seem to like all the attention it was receiving and let out an annoyed sound, it sounded like a huff to Hadrian.
The avian shook itself, fluffing its feathers before it gave the headmaster a significant look. The phoenix looked at Hadrian and let out a pleased trill, and took off effortlessly. The phoenix circled once, tails shimmering and flickering before in a burst of light and flame the bird disappeared, leaving flickering, popping embers in its wake
"Wow." The younger woman exclaimed. Hadrian couldn't help but agree.
"Yes, quite a beautiful sight." The headmaster admired. "Fawkes seems to have taken a liking to you. Not a common thing." The man leaned forward slightly, looking down at him intently.
"I've always been good with birds sir." Hadrian spoke slowly, his eyes catching his aunt's. She shook her head minutely.
"Has Fawkes been around long?" Hadrian asked hesitantly.
"Why yes, we have known each other for quite a while, we are friends of sorts." Dumbledore answered quite jovially, rocking back and forth on his heels.
"I asked Fawkes if he belonged to anyone…." Hadrian began and was cut off but the headmaster's laugh. The sound startled the younger mages while Minerva simply sighed.
"I imagine, that did not go well?" The venerable wizard's eyes sparkled with humor.
Hadrian shuffled, scratching the back of his head, "Almost bit my head off."
"Yes, yes." Dumbledore nodded sagely, rubbing his beard. "I remember Fawkes almost taking my fingers some years ago when I made the proposition."
"His kind are usually solitary you see; flighty and proud creatures the lot of them." The headmaster added on.
Hadrian could understand what the headmaster was saying; he had noticed that Fawkes was quite vain.
"But they can make incredible friends, loyal to a fault and helpful to have around…" Dumbledore paused and looked at Hadrian. His expression contemplative. Hadrian felt distinctly uncomfortable and shrunk back.
"Headmaster perhaps we should proceed, you have that meeting soon." The Headmistress interjected breaking off the tension.
"Ah yes," the headmaster hummed, his eyes refocusing. He gestured behind him and the younger professor stepped forward.
"This is Professor Babbling; our resident Runes Mistress. She has agreed to take you on as a pseudo apprentice and mentor you in your studies." He said without preamble.
"Pseudo apprentice?" Hadrian goggled turning to look at the new professor.
She was short; Hadrian did not have to crane his neck uncomfortably to meet her eyes. Her hair was frizzy and brown, held back by a simple band. She had on some sensible pants and light blouse with a light over-robe on top. Hadrian took in her hands; they were stained - probably from ink or charcoal he imagined.
"Erm yes," the younger woman coughed, rubbing her arm absently, staining her robe. "I have not gotten my full Mastery yet, so cannot officially take on an Apprentice." The woman explained, affecting a smile and offered a hand.
Hadrian hesitated before shaking the proffered hand – the hand felt rough and calloused, a consequence of handling tools, Hadrian surmised.
"I leave the rest in your capable hands Headmistress." Dumbledore nodded at his deputy and waved at the two younger people before with a swish of cloth he disappeared back into his office.
Minerva watched the older wizard retreat, her lips pursed and her stance stiff. She let out a fortifying sigh and muttered something Hadrian could not catch.
"We best do this in your office Professor Babbling, if you do not mind?" The deputy Headmistress phrased it as question but it clearly was not.
"Yes, right this way." Professor Babbling almost stumbled as she quickly got moving.
Hadrian tried his best not to break into a jog as he followed along on his shorter legs, but it was a near thing. The pace his new mentor set did not leave much room for conversation but soon enough they were in the ancient runes classroom.
The room was smaller than he had expected. Desks were spread out the room in three columns that formed a semi circle facing the front, where a large blackboard dominated the wall; a lectern stood off to the side. The walls had alcoves spread about full of runic art and shelves; some that contained books and others tools. He could recognise some of the scripts; Furthak, Greek, Sumerian and Egyptian. He was fairly fluent in the first two and his Sumerian was coming along nicely, while he hadn't gotten around to the language of pharaohs.
Hadrian had been expecting them to stop here but Professor Babbling led them through a side door he had not noticed yet. This room was larger and there were a couple of sandboxes, filled with white sand spread about the room. Shelves were packed with clay tablets and etching tools; chisels tipped with iron, steel, bone and obsidian.
The moment they passed the threshold, Hadrian felt a tingle travel through his body. Hadrian spun around taking in the walls. Hadrian had to squint but he could see script covering the walls, it glowed to his senses, it was vast construction
"Did you make this?" Hadrian asked, turning wide eyes to his new teacher.
The young professor puffed up her chest, exuding pride; before she let out a snort.
"Nah." She flipped around, her hair swishing behind her. "This is the rune workshop, it was built ages ago." She pulled some parchment and tools from one of the shelves. She gestured towards a table and Hadrian made himself comfortable.
"This is where I conduct the advanced classes." She raised a slim arm and gestured to the walls.
"The runes are there for our safety; at the most basic, they absorb excess spontaneous bursts of energy, basically keep things from exploding too much in your face." She smiled innocuously as she noticed his surprised expression.
"Too much?" Hadrian asked feeling dread settling in his gut.
"Well yea, runecraft is dangerous; how did your first experiment go?" She leaned back, throwing her shoulders back and peering at him curiously.
"It blew up in my face." Hadrian smiled faintly, remembering his first foray into runes all those years ago.
"So remember the warnings okay?" She leaned forward now, a smile blooming on her face, casting away her stern visage.
Hadrian wisely chose not to comment on the Professor's mood shifts and simply nodded his agreement. He turned, feeling the chair creak under him and looked at his aunt. She was standing a little away from them, but her gaze keen and observing. Noticing his gaze, the older witch offered him a small smile of encouragement.
"Now the fun part." Babbling let out a soft cough and shuffled some papers to mask the sound. The younger professor cast a discreet look at the quiet Headmistress.
"I am going to have to test you, your knowledge." Professor said but she kept shooting little looks towards the veteran professor.
"What sort of test?" Hadrian asked, feeling nervousness bubble up in his gut.
"Nothing too serious, don't worry." Babbling offered him a smile before she pushed a piece of parchment towards him.
Hadrian looked at parchment, it had a circle of runes drawn on it, a very familiar circle.
"You copied my Trap?" Hadrian asked, not knowing if he should feel offended.
"Yes I did, someone had to figure out what the hell you did." Babbling pointed out not looking at him.
Hadrian goggled at her casual curse; weren't professors supposed to be exemplary. He glanced at the headmistress and saw her frowning in disapproval but she made no move to comment. He shook his head and noticed Babbling was making some notes.
"So tell me what was going through your mind when you made this." Babbling tapped the diagram, her nail making a sharp note.
"I didn't want to die for one." The words tumbled out of Hadrian before he could stop them.
The scratching of the quill stilled and woman looked at him critically, her nose scrunched up. Hadrian could feel his aunt's eyes staring at him.
"I…um…well." Hadrian stuttered.
"It's okay, I forget myself sometimes." Babbling offered a nervous smile, her gaze flicking over his shoulder.
"What I mean is, this may look like something done in the moment, but it's built on something else." Babbling spoke slowly, choosing her words carefully.
"Oh." Hadrian's shoulders slumped, the tension bleeding away from his frame – he ran a hand through his raven hair.
"Absence of Movement was the first rune cluster I ever wrote." Hadrian began slowly. He pulled up some parchment and some charcoal. Babbling watched as he started to trace out a new circle.
"But it could never hold something as large as a troll." Hadrian grimaced as he recalled the raging beast.
"So you added the Paralysis." Babbling prodded.
"Yes – Hedwig had tried to freeze the thing in ice but it had broken out." He began before he noticed the question on the professor's face.
"Hedwig?"
"Yea, my familiar, she's an elemental bird, specifically ice and snow. She was actually the basis for my first paralysis trap. I channel her energy into the cluster and use its element as the main paralysis component."
"But the troll had already broken out of the ice." Babbling commented, she was starting to understand how the young boy had done what he had.
"Yes, so I chose lightning, and I decided to layer the Greek runes on top." Hadrian continued.
"Why?" Babbling interrupted.
"Greek runes channel celestial energies faster than furthark." Hadrian stated confidently staring back at her. Babbling nodded, knowing he was right.
"Layering is tricky even in the most stable environment." She commented off-handedly.
"I know, but I was in a bind." He took a shaky breath before continuing. "I upped the power requirement, I wanted to make sure, but I must have fudged the numbers, so yea…"
"The bathroom was choke full of energies and ozone so thick you could taste it." Babbling sat up eagerly in her seat, her elbows pressed up on the table. "It was pretty cool if you ask me."
"I guess." Hadrian agreed keeping his eyes on the parchment. Babbling glanced down at the parchment.
"So is that what you would have made if you had the time?" The question startled Hadrian out of his funk. He looked up to see the professor staring intently at the parchment, her lips pursed.
"Yes." Hadrian said softly, his voice cracking. He stared down at the drawing he had made, a complex lattice of symbols, Greek and Furthark.
"I look forward to seeing it one day." She offered him an encouraging smile. Hadrian had no time to process what she met before the professor stood abruptly.
"So!" she clapped her hands once, the sound loud and dispelling the tension.
"Lessons." She nodded decisively.
"I thought you said there was going to be a test?" Hadrian pointed out.
"That was the test." Babbling folded her arms across her chest, pleased.
Hadrian opened his mouth in surprise and then stopped. "What?"
"You've just demonstrated that you know two languages extensively enough to be able to blend and use them together on the fly in a very tough situation. That's more than most of my senior classes students can say." Babbling grinned toothily at him.
"How's your Sumerian?" Babbling asked, smiling softly.
"Rough," Hadrian answered hesitantly. "I've only been practicing the last few months." He explained quickly.
"Take your time, Sumerian is a tough one, most students avoid it and stick to the other two. People only ever get into Sumerian and Egyptian when they start eyeing up Gringotts. He's well ahead." Babbling directed the last part to the Headmistress.
"Professor Babbling, I understand your excitement, but perhaps if you could explain your evaluation, please." Professor McGonagall cut in, her voice holding a touch of disapproval.
"Ah, sorry professor." Babbling chuckled.
"Well, since the troll incident, I examined the rune schema in my free time and like my initial assessment it's quite advanced, what Mr Potter did – especially under duress." Professor Babbling shook her head.
"I have very few students currently who could reproduce what he did, and that's without the extenuating circumstances and time limit." The professor turned to Hadrian then.
"Mr Potter is gifted." The professor enthused.
Hadrian flushed, and ducked his head low. He had not expected that.
"So what would you suggest?" Professor McGonagall pressed.
Professor Babbling took a moment and seemed to weigh her words, "If I was permitted an apprentice, I could take him on as he is…"
"You aren't." McGonagall interjected. Babbling nodded, not at all offended. Hadrian looked between the two, unsure.
"As such I would like him to join my senior classes. The fifth year most likely." Babbling concluded.
Professor McGonagall nodded, she had anticipated such a request. She herself while not especially gifted in Runecraft knew that Hadrian was well ahead of his peers in the subject.
"Also I could use an aide with the younger classes." Babbling tagged on.
McGonagall gave her a searching look and the younger professor fidgeted under the gaze.
"You've always said we learn best when we teach." Babbling cajoled.
"I said that to you when you were considering applying for the teaching position." Minerva rolled her eyes.
"Well I think it applies here. Plus I think it would be inspiring for the students." Babbling folded her arms across her chest, trying to look stern.
"Or it could make them jealous." Minerva pointed out. Babbling closed her mouth with a click, and looked thoughtful.
"I don't mind joining the classes." Hadrian spoke up, his voice quiet.
Minerva turned to look at her nephew; his initial surprise was gone and in its place was a cautious excitement. Hadrian was looking at her, eyes wide and shining, his fingers were drumming against his leg.
"Are you sure?" Minerva asked stooping down to meet his eyes.
"I'm sure auntie." Hadrian smiled at her.
"Watch your cheek Mr Potter." Minerva flashed him a smile. She would let him get away with such familiarity just this once.
The older witch turned to look at the Runes Professor and seemed to have come to a decision, her stance sure and resolute.
"Hadrian will join the senior classes, his schedule permitting. But we will hold off on him being your teaching aide. One step at a time." Here she turned to look at her nephew. "If your other lessons suffer then I will pull the plug, understood?"
Hadrian and Babbling nodded no hints of levity in sight. Hadrian could barely contain the excitement he felt bubbling up in him.
Venturing through this dense and humid forest would be far less arduous were it not for the burdensome load we must bear. What manner of hunters are we if every step we take produces a cacophony of clanging pots and pans? By my troth, this woodland vexes me sorely.
My father contends that this journey shall instill in me a sense of responsibility and appreciation for the common folk, yet I perceive it as naught but a ploy to keep me out of his hair. How was I to discern that that oaf Proudmoor lacked the skill to conjure a shield? He should not have dared to challenge me to a duel. If aught, his loss of a limb lies squarely upon his own shoulders.
I daresay my cousin Charles is reveling in my predicament. Little does he know that while he tends to our estates, I am embarked upon a grand adventure, of sorts. Though the journey thus far has been fraught with dampness, mud, and rain, the excitement I seek has been sorely lacking. Evenings are somewhat enlivened by the warmth of the campfire, despite the lamentable culinary skills of our cook, Sloan. His culinary repertoire consists solely of boiling, to the detriment of our palates. Still, the spirits flow freely, courtesy of Davies, who seems to have procured an endless supply of whisky, much to my curiosity.
This place is a veritable breeding ground for disease and vermin, mundane and magical alike. Our guide, whose name I cannot hope to pronounce, has coated us in a peculiar paste to repel the insects. My sense of smell has long since abandoned me.
We have been traversing this accursed jungle for three days hence, enduring incessant rainfall and oppressive humidity. I fear we have passed the same tree on multiple occasions this very afternoon. Our guide assures us that we draw nigh to our quarry, discerning tracks left by the beasts. Alas, my own eyes perceive naught but shadows amidst the foliage. Though I have posed inquiries to our guide, his responses have been informative but lacking in substance. One would think that creatures of such magnitude as the acromantula would leave more discernible traces. Should I deign to partake in another such hunt, I shall hope for a more eventful outcome.
The forest grows eerily silent, the game scarce. Tension mounts amongst our party, with Rhys clutching his blade with an almost desperate fervor. The jests of yore have faded, replaced by an unsettling apprehension. Methinks we shall soon encounter the telltale signs of the beasts, their webs entwined amidst the canopy. My wand arm twitches restlessly; who would have thought that the pursuit of acromantula would prove so tedious?"
Reginald 'the Blackwood' Potter
Hadrian closed the journal with a contemplative look on his face. He tested the name of his bygone ancestor on his lips.
"Reginald." He whispered. The journal hummed in his hands, an echo of his ancestor. Hadrian smiled, feeling bittersweet nostalgia. He could almost see his many times great uncle; a roguish grin on his face as he trampled across the rainforest. Perhaps the adventuring spirit ran in his family; the sarcasm certainly seemed to, if Uncle Vernon's comments on his late father were to be believed.
A cool evening breeze swept through his hidden nook and he grimaced as it stung his cut palm. He had taken Ripclaw's suggestion and used his blood to reveal the journal's contents. He had used the knife his uncle had gifted him and made a small cut in his palm and then smeared the blood all over the book.
The blood didn't stain the dark leather and had disappeared in its depths. The old book had merely shivered and grown warm in his hands and when he opened it, he found entries, so many entries.
He had sequestered himself in one of the many rooms Hogwarts had and lost himself in the journal. There was so much, so much history, from the mundane to the grand. He had devoured entry upon entry with a wolfing hunger, relishing into this glimpse into his family. He had sat there whiling away the hours until he had stumbled upon Reginald's entry.
He pondered what he had read; was Reginald the ancestor Ripclaw had talked about? If so, then he needed to keep reading the man's entries.
His stomach gurgled and he grimaced, shifting uncomfortably. He glanced out the window and noticed the gloom that had taken over the grounds. He needed to get to supper. Quickly he packed his books, patting his journal to reassure himself it was secure. He quickly left making his way to the Great Hall.
He wondered if anyone had missed him. Probably not, he thought, he sighed, scuffing his shoes against the floor. He had not seen Padma all day, he had even tried to catch her early. He knew she was with Hermione, that was why he hadn't tried to find the Gryffindor; there was no need to let things get awkward. He had thought that after that Defense class, things would go back to normal, but Padma had continued to avoid him.
He had sought out Neville, but the other boy had been busy in the greenhouses helping Professor Sprout. Hadrian enjoyed the class, but he wasn't going to do gardening if he didn't have to – he had quickly said his goodbyes and left. He had done enough gardening with aunt Petunia over the summer, his aunt wanting him close.
He thought on Perenelle's advice; Padma had a bit of a sweet tooth, should he give her some chocolates? He had some in his trunk; he had made a dent into his monthly stipend when he had splurged on the cart on the train. He shook his head – no, sweets seemed cheap he thought. He had to think a bit more cleverer.
Damn that elf for stealing his letters! Hadrian thought bitterly. All Hadrian had had to do was write a letter and none of this would have happened. He hadn't though, now here he was alone. Who knew elves could steal mail anyway. Clearly owling wasn't safe, Hadrian thought contemplatively.
Entering the great hall, Hadrian was met with the usual noise. His eyes were instantly drawn to the table under the red and gold banner. His emerald eyes met honey brown. He felt his stomach clench and his steps falter. Padma quickly looked away and he felt his upturned lips twist into a grimace.
"Hey move it Potter, some of us want to eat." A burly boy shoved past him causing Hadrian to stumble.
Hadrian opened his mouth to shout, the doorway was plenty wide, he thought, then stopped. There was no point, the older boy was gone and Padma wasn't paying him any attention.
Silently he made his way to the Ravenclaw table, he was still hungry after all. He gave a perfunctory nod to a small wide eyed girl who moved to give him some space. Plonking his bag on the bench the Potter journal peeked out and he stopped; his mind shifting gears.
The journal was an extraordinary piece of magical craft, he mused. Its pages echoed the thoughts and memories of his long gone ancestors – his ancestors able to reach forward and tell their experiences to him and him alone. He glanced back at the Gryffindor table; Padma was laughing, engrossed in a conversation with her sister.
"Maybe using Transference and linking them." he muttered and pulled out some paper and pencil and started sketching out his idea. He absentmindedly murmured his thanks when the young girl passed him some stew.
He never noticed the furtive glances honey-brown eyes kept throwing at him from across the room, lost in his little world, filling his pages with diagrams and runes.
A/N: Here is the latest chapter, getting right into second year. Again fleshing out the world and characters. I have tried something different with Lockhart, I hope you like it, if not feel free to give me some insights. Hadrian and Padma are still navigating their complicated argument and it has sparked an idea in Hadrian, lets see where that goes.
Please read and review. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.