"Tom, I don't quite understand – why don't we aim straight for the Great Hall?"
"Sir, the viaduct," I reply with more patience I'd ever thought possible, making sure he keeps walking on our brisk way up there. "Haven't you noticed the students?"
"Oh, yes – no, I see them," Slughorn gasps, trying his best to climb up next to me. "They all have to go to the Great Hall, don't they?"
"Indeed, sir ..."
He's moving faster than I would've given him credit for, like a corpulent mountain goat he's slogging over the mossy plain rocks, steep as they get, up to the imposing entrance to the castle.
"Do you think he can do it?" I suddenly ask him, overcome by my own doubts about the man in whose hands the fate of the magical world lies today.
"If anyone can do it," Slughorn replies with utmost pathos lacing his tone, "it's Albus. He always seems so calm and collected, but deep down, he's storing magic only waiting to be unleashed."
Slughorn often expresses himself as though he'd waited all his life to write novels, but this probably takes the cake ... I nod wanly, nevertheless, all while we follow the narrow path up to the bridge. At least until the first students already watch us, with keen interest as we reach the top.
"Riddle!" I hear Eric call out from the crowd as soon as we look around. "Did you hope for a duel as well?"
Shaking my head, I shoot him quite a cynical smile. "Help Professor Slughorn up, come on!" I instruct a couple of third years so I don't have to do it myself. Then Eric already reaches out to me and pulls me over the stone parapet of the viaduct as well.
"We can't stay here, can we?" he speculates, already visibly disappointed when I nod.
"That would've been the ultimate view," Eric regrets, and I also let my gaze wander from the plateau down to the boathouse, the lake and finally its island …
Quite magnificent.
And it's surely nothing but paranoia, yet I imagine that Gellert Grindelwald, who has just arrived, is also looking at me from afar, at this very moment, from all this distance.
"Are there any more Prefects here?" I ask Eric as if to distract myself. With him I turn my attention back to the crowded main path of the bridge.
Excited children and teens as far as the eye can see – it doesn't get more pathetic than this.
"Rou's somewhere –"
"Here!" she calls out, making her way to us swiftly. "Shall we leave for the Great Hall?"
I nod.
"Shoo, shoo!" Slughorn eagerly shouts, already trying his best to encourage some first-years, including Eileen Prince, to move. "On with you, my dears, I'm afraid we can't stay here."
He is simply too friendly. No one moves except Eileen, but even she stops a few meters further away when she feels unobserved.
"Go, go!" Slughorn shouts a little louder, but that won't be enough.
"Sonorus!" I murmur and hold my wand to my neck so that my voice is magically amplified the very next moment. "Listen up! Anyone who's not on the direct route to the Great Hall as of now is going to receive a 250 house point deduction and six weeks of detention in the dungeons. Move!"
Collective mumbling, scared glances and tiny traces of composure already. They all know this is not only an empty threat, I love to impose disproportionate punishments to set the tone ...
"What are you waiting for?" I add. "Hurry!"
The herd starts to move like a flock of sheep. Slughorn's eyes widen, but then he only nods and watches in awe.
Wherever particularly lively students wish to break away from the crowd, unseen, of course, I don't even bother to resist a magical finger tap in the form of a Relashio.
"Don't be so mean to the kids, Tom," Rouvenia reprimands me. "Look how offended he is, the little guy ..."
"Better offended than dead," Eric retorts for me, "he could have tripped at any given moment."
"Just like Slughorn," Rouvenia whispers and sighs, "I think the climb was a bit too much for him." With that, she quickens her steps forward to offer him her arm to hook onto – a favour that the old mole gladly accepts.
"Tell me about your fiancé, Rouvenia, will you?" Eric and I hear him chat with her already.
"She's in love with Avery, but supposed to marry that weird bird from Durmstrang, just for blood," Eric murmurs in all his gloom, then a thought seems to cross his mind. "Oh, is it actually true? Sullivan and you, engaged? She's not wearing a ring after all ..."
I think about that for a moment, then I actually nod a tad caught. "That's very true – you're right."
"What?" He smirks. "Didn't have one at hand? Dean would've been prepared ..."
"Well, people like Dean always are."
Eric shakes his head in amusement, winking. "I'm sure Tadpole could get you some jewels."
"Certainly, maybe metal rings that he usually puts on owl claws."
"I'm sure Harper would appreciate the effort." He saunters on but has to laugh. "No, she'd probably curse you out."
"She'd curse me out," I confirm, already seeing two students on the move again. "Don't even think about it," I shout and point them back into line.
"You're going to become a professor later, aren't you?" Eric muses. "To order people around. Fun? No! Creativity? No!"
"Teaching?" I ask in the same tone. "No!" I grin and shake my head. "Over my dead body I'd make a living teaching children ... You'd be a good tutor, though. Do live the dream, Eric!"
"No, never," he chuckles. "But you'd better make sure you get Sully a ring if you wish to marry her."
"I take a mental note of this constructive criticism ..."
I really do. A ring seems so ridiculously impractical and yet it's a symbol of importance. I'd never cared about keeping to form. But I suppose it's somewhat required now, at least in case the world as we know it is not taken over by a demagogue who hates and appreciates me in equal measure ...
We soon pass the inner courtyard and follow the entrance area straight to the Great Hall. Inside, all those gathered have already found a spot by the massive windows to the side and the front behind the professors' tables. Everybody wants to get the best possible view of the historical event to come …
"Tom! Riddle!" Leonora's voice is rarely ever loud, but she's apparently furious. "How dare you leave me all alone when things get serious? Are these the students from the viaduct?"
I nod as we approach her. "Hardly any Hufflepuffs in my crowd, though."
"They're all here," she grumbles. "They did listen to me, including most of the ravens, but of course Gryffindors and Slytherins wouldn't let me tell them a thing!"
"That's on them," Eric says with a wink.
"Why didn't Elliott help you?" I ask her, glancing around for him. "And where's Harper?"
"Elliott and strict authority don't go well together," Leonora hisses, already counting students as if in thought. "And Harper is ..."
"I see her, never mind," I tell Leonora and yet again leave her to the attendance lists, but at least Rouvenia joins her to help with the count.
Harper's quite close to the windows, with Hagrid and Nott. I can hear the latter complain from a distance, "But they have to open somehow! There's a spell for everything!"
"Only if necessary and when there's truly no easier way," Harper says. Then she steps forward and tries to open one of the windows by hand.
"Wait, I'll help you," Hagrid immediately offers, and with the appropriate amount of force, he actually gets one of the windows opened.
"Do you wish students to fall onto the rocks down there?" I ask in exasperation. "Close it! Before others see it and feel inspired ..."
"You're in a good mood, I see," Harper sighs, nodding nonetheless for Hagrid to close it again. "Where did you just come from?"
"Boathouse," I admit, also inching closer to the window to see Dumbledore far away in the distance still just where I spoke to him a few minutes ago.
"Tell me ..." Elliott suddenly whispers after he, too, swam through the crowd of students to reach us. "Tom, don't the pipes run right underneath the Great Hall?"
"What pipes?" Nott asks, but I just nod at Elliott as Leonora, Rouvenia and Eric join us, too, distracting from the subject.
"I think everyone is here, except for the Professors," Leonora informs me, audible relief in her voice and features.
"All of those stayed with Dumbledore?" I ask. „Apart from Slughorn?"
"Yeah," she confirms, "and thank you, Tom, for helping me count them ..."
"Ever since you've become Head Girl, I've somewhat noticed constant cynicism on your part."
She puts her hands on her hips, pursing her lips. "As you should!"
"They're about to begin!" someone shouts from the other side of the hall. And right he is – suddenly, the two most famous wizards of our time face each other on the island in the Black Lake. After all these years …
"How did Dumbledore get to him so quickly?" Leonora whispers in surprise. "He was just at the boathouse!"
"He apparated," Harper and I say in unison.
"No one at Hogwarts can do that!" Nott protests naively wide-eyed.
"But he's Albus Dumbledore," Harper replies with a grin.
"Sullivan, curb that enthusiasm, will you?"
"Why would I?" She doesn't even think about it, immediately shaking her head. "I'm counting on him!"
I roll my eyes as Mulciber shouts, "What are they chatting about? Is that mandatory before a duel?"
"No, but maybe they're negotiating," Avery says, standing right next to Rouvenia. Spellbound by the scene, he even proceeds to pull out a pair of binoculars.
We watch the spectacle like curious zoo visitors – but I can't even deny that it all feels adequately monumental.
"Let me take a look, too!" Avery demands, shooing people away from the windows to use his binoculars until he eventually starts to pass them on with a heavy heart.
"More and more of them arrive," Raymond states when it's his turn. "His acolytes are gathering around the shore. Where is the Ministry when you bloody need it? Haven't they been looking for MacDuff for years?"
"For Abernathy and Krafft, too," Dean mumbles as he passes the binoculars on as well. "They were present at Père Lachaise in 1927 and haven't been caught since ..."
"A Carrow and Vinda Rosier were there, too," Raymond adds, glaring at a couple of Slytherins. "Members of two families that you have always welcomed into your ranks with open arms ..."
"Save the polemics, Greene," Rouvenia groans. "You'd better look out of the window or you'll miss the beginning."
But they simply don't start ...
"Look, there's Queenie Goldstein on the shore, too!" Dean calls out at one point, excited to look through the binoculars for a tad longer. "The sister of Newt Scamander's wife! She really is as pretty as they say ... She joined Grindelwald back then, even though Tina was with the Aurors. They say Tina's been shadowing Grindelwald for a while, ever since she rejoined the MACUSA."
"Hand them over," I demand the binoculars – with an urgency in my voice that couldn't even bring Dean to argue today.
And it's true – Queenie is clearly lacking cover, standing right next to some other acolytes. And Edwin …
Both are visibly uncomfortable, and for good reason. If Grindelwald wins, my vow is fulfilled and can no longer protect them from irrational revenge ...
"There's your great-uncle, too," I quietly tell Harper, handing her the binoculars.
"They'll be the first ones to die if he wins," she whispers in horror as she watches Queenie and Edwin. "We have to do something ..."
"I can't, Harper, I vowed not to be for or against the greater good," I remind her almost absently.
"But Riddle!" she hisses. "It's about Queenie! About Edwin! And heaven knows where Nagini and Vivian are!"
"Tell me," we hear Nott raise his voice anxiously, interrupting our conversation as well, "can anyone hear that?"
"What are we supposed to hear?" Eric asks, drawing closer.
Nott just shakes his head in irritation, as if he doesn't really know himself anymore.
"I hear something, but I can't see anything ..." someone meekly claims behind us and when I turn around, I look into big children's eyes, as though I should now feel slightly responsible.
A bit overwhelmed, I'm pushed aside by Harper, who waves Hagrid closer for Eileen. "Maybe a kind Gryffindor friend could help you?"
"Poor people behind that duo, then, they won't see a thing," Elliott jokes as the tiny Eileen gets promptly shouldered by a more than cheerful Hagrid.
"Thanks, Ruby," Eileen giggles as I turn away, groaning again and massaging my temples.
"Your sense of responsibility for the weak sure needs some further practice before we bring little people into this world one day," Harper quietly grumbles to me.
"Come on now, Harp," I whisper, „my children will have split tongues, to that I'll listen."
"Don't you hear that?" Nott calls out again to all of us. "Far away, but ... the sirens! The Selkies, the Merrows!"