BONDS AND BURDENS
"Great heroes need great sorrows and burdens, or half their greatness goes unnoticed. It is all part of the fairy tale."
Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn
Hadrian stared mulishly at the piece of parchment; his knuckles tightened around his quill, the tool creaking in protest. Bringing the quill down, he slashed across the parchment crossing out his work, once and then again. The nib caught in the parchment, tearing the paper before snapping. The quill clattered onto the desk and he buried his face in his hands, rubbing his tired eyes. Another failure.
The idea was simple – well, he grimaced as he looked at the ruined stationery, it was supposed to be. As he was learning, theory and reality were often at odds. He was supposed to be good at this. Aren't I? Everyone said so. He looked around at the Runecraft workshop – him a second year having such privileged access, a clear statement and yet – he stared back at the mess of ink and parchment. He grabbed the parchment uncaring of the mess and stared at hours of work. Fruitless work, his mind whispered. He curled his lip, something tight and ugly welling up inside him. Was he a fraud?
He sighed, raking a hand through his hair, only to yank it back. His fingers were stained with ink. "Dammit," he muttered, scowling at the dark smudges. Now he was going to have to wash his hair. He didn't fancy a trip to the Ravenclaw tower right now. He glanced at the window – the mid-afternoon sun was a rarity, especially with autumn well underway. He gave one last frustrated look at his notes before he nodded decisively; he needed some air. Quickly packing, he shoved his bag into the locker Professor Babbling had assigned him; it was safe enough and he would retrieve it later.
Stepping outside, he took a deep breath, the crisp air filled his lungs, refreshing and sharp, a welcome contrast to the stuffy indoors. He glanced around, spotting clusters of students basking in the rare autumn sun, their laughter carried by the crisp air. Instead of joining them, he headed in the other direction, down towards Hagrid's hut. A shadow passed him overhead and he smiled as he felt his familiar's presence.
Casting his mind to her, his vision flickered and he saw double for a moment before the world resolved coming into focus. No matter how many times he had done this, he would always marvel at how sharp and crisp Hedwig's vision was and don't let him get started on the colours. Looking down briefly he could see his body, standing so still he looked like a statue. It was strange seeing himself, feeling his limbs vaguely yet inhabiting another body.
A gentle nudge in the recesses of his mind had him focusing back on task. He turned their now superior sight to Hagrid's hut and was happy to see movement. It looked like the half giant was around. Searching within himself he found the tether to his body and gently pulled away from Hedwig's mind. He staggered as his talons become feet on solid ground. His head spun and he grasped his temple as he saw double – sky and ground superimposed on the other and he shook his head , blinking rapidly.
A few moments later and his vision cleared and with it went the vertigo. He looked up, noticing that Hedwig was circling around him. He could feel her worry and sent her soothing thoughts, "I'm okay." His mind whispered to hers. This was nothing new, and it was getting better, the disorientation was only for a few seconds and he hardly got anymore headaches after the transition.
His balance settled, he resumed his walk, Hedwig flapping lazily above him, her flight winding and looping. A part of his mind, always connected to her could feel her satisfied joy in the freedom of air currents.
He reached the hut in no time and over the clucking of chickens heard Hagrid talking from the back. He went round, skirting the fence.
"Hagrid!" He shouted, spotting the massive man.
The large brown mass turned, peering over his shoulder. Dark eyes brightened after spotting Hadrian and Hagrid waved a large hand; "Ah Hadrian, how are ya?"
Hadrian opened his mouth to say something before he was cut off by a large shadow peeling off from Hagrid's side.
"Woof!" the four legged mass of fur and slobber bounded over the fence bowling him over.
"Gerrof." Hadrian wheezed under the weight. The dog paid him no mind, licking and slobbering all over the boy.
"Get off him Fang!" Hagrid bellowed out a laugh, tugging at the dog and pulling it off the boy.
Hadrian got up, face twisted into a grimace. He gingerly touched his face and groaned as it came away slimy. He glared at the mastiff but the dog merely wagged it's tail
"Sorry bout that. Fang missed you is all." Hagrid explained, pulling out a handkerchief.
Hadrian accepted the offered handkerchief; well in his hands it was more like tablecloth and wiped himself down.
"Well I missed him too, I could do without the slobber though." Hadrian smiled fondly at the large dog. The large dog let out a bark, before turning on its heel and diving back into the garden, nose stuck on the ground.
Walking through Hagrid's garden was a surreal experience – the garden was a chaotic mess and yet his giant friend saw some semblance of order within and led his young friend through to what Hadrian believed to be the biggest vegetables in the world. The pumpkins were half his size and Hagrid said they still had some ways to grow!
"They'll be ready by Samhain." Hagrid patted a particularly large specimen, his teeth peeking out of his bushy beard.
Hedwig swooped down and Hadrian leaned his head slightly as the bird alighted on his shoulder. The bird gave the half giant a piercing stare before warbling on greeting.
"Nice to see you Hedwig." The half giant wiped down his hands with a large rag and approached. He stopped just shy of the boy and stared at the bird. Hedwig bobbed her head and the giant relaxed; raising his arm in response. Hedwig raised her right wing, holding it out straight.
Hagrid hummed as his large finger gently brushed through the wing feathers. The feathers shimmered and flickered a pale blue silver, flecks of frost falling away.
"She's growing nicely, her magic is strong and will only get stronger." Hagrid commented to Hadrian. Hedwig puffed herself up, proud.
Hagrid chuckled, and ran a finger atop Hedwig's crown; "Imagine what your roost mates would say, the little runt, all grown up."
"Woah!"
Hedwig hissed, lunging for the finger but Hagrid quickly pulled back, saving the appendage.
"Hedwig!" Hadrian admonished, placing a calming hand onto her back. The avian huffed, ruffling her feathers, her gaze chilly. With one last piercing look she spread her wings and flapped away, sending a biting wind at the two. She didn't go far, but landed on the fence, and proceeded to preen her feathers, ignoring the two.
"I'm sorry about that…" Hadrian started but Hagrid waved him off, moving towards his hut and Hadrian followed.
"Bah! Don't worry, she doesn't like remembering how she was cast out by her broodmates, it's understandable." Hagrid said, going about his garden and picking up his tools.
"Yea, she can be a proud little lady." Hadrian smirked at his familiar who sent him a glare.
Hagrid had once told him that he had found Hedwig when he had gone on an expedition into the arctic circle or the North as he called it. He had found Hedwig, all alone, abandoned. She had been the runt of the litter and her mother had not bothered to take care of her. It was the cold way of the wild, the way of her species. Hadrian found a perverse sense of accomplishment, knowing that Hedwig was healthy and strong now, thriving with him.
He wondered if it was a trait all birds shared, the owls he had met all gave him haughty looks and then there was his recent encounter with Fawkes; the phoenix was as vain as Hedwig.
He winced when he felt something pelt his thoughts. He turned to his familiar and found her glaring at him; she had not been pleased when she found out about his encounter with the phoenix. It had taken many treats before her frigid temper had thawed.
"Hey Hagrid, are birds always so proud." He asked, a frown pulling at his brow. If anyone would know, it certainly would be the half giant, Hagrid was a wealth of information on magical creatures.
"Ho? What makes you ask?" The giant stopped his wheelbarrow, full of tools, and pulled level with his young guest. Hadrian quickly related his encounter with Fawkes and his impression of the elemental bird.
"Ha, I see you met that grouchy bird." Hagrid chuckled, tilting his head to the side, eyes shining. "His kind tend to be standoffish and like wandering alone."
Hadrian nodded, that lined up with what the headmaster had said and his own limited research into phoenixes.
"Birds are proud, wouldn't you be, if you could just leave the ground any time you wanted?" Hagrid asked wryly.
That made sense, Hadrian thought. Birds were free, they could go where the wind blew and that was before you thought of the different abilities some magical birds possessed. A smug feeling welled up inside him and it took a moment for him to realise it was Hedwig.
Hagrid must have had a sixth sense because he looked between Hadrian and Hedwig and laughed at the byplay between the two.
"I doubt Fawkes and Hedwig would get along though, fire and ice." Hagrid stated.
"Oh Hedwig made that very clear, nearly bit my ear off. I think she could smell him on me or something." Hadrian shook his head at the absurdity of it.
Hagrid took his statement seriously though, nodding solemnly, "She probably sensed traces of him. She has you marked as hers after all, it's only natural."
With that final statement Hagrid heaved open the doors to his cellar, pushing his wheelbarrow into its depths. Hadrian rolled over Hagrid's words in his mind, struck by how they resonated. He turned to his familiar. Was she afraid he would abandon her?
"You know I'm yours right?" He drew closer to Hedwig, reaching out to her physically and mentally. His fingers brushed against her soft feathers, tingling pleasantly with her coldness. His mind melded with hers and he pushed his affection towards her.
Hedwig was not human, but she was no dumb bird and her thoughts were complex and primal. Sensations and impressions crossed over, and he could feel her wariness. A picture, no, a memory flashed into his mind.
Everything was white, and a cold wind howled, puling and tearing at the thing trees. Everything was big and she was so small, so alone. The memory was gone as quick as it had come.
"I'm not going to leave you Hedwig, never would I even consider it." He stroked her head and she leaned in, a crooning tremble passing through her.
"Till death do us part, that's our bond." He said gravely.
A clanging and bang drew his attention to Hagrid who re-emerged from his dark cellar. Slung over his shoulder were three deer carcasses. The smell hit him only moments later as if to confirm what his eyes were telling him. Hadrian felt his stomach clench and bile rise up his throat; he gave a dry heave and quickly pulled his scarf up over his nose.
"Hagrid, why do you have those?" Hadrian asked, backing away.
"Oh this is for Fluffy." He shrugged, the movement sending the heads jiggling.
"Fluffy?" Hadrian asked, his gaze finding the glassy eyes of the deer. He quickly looked away.
"Yea, Fluffy." The half giant looked about, sweeping over the grounds before he leaned down and whispered, "Come on I'll show ya."
Hadrian found himself unsurprised when Hagrid led him into the Forbidden Forest. There was a clear delineation between light and shadow at the border of the forest – it's depths hidden and uninviting. He stopped, his steps faltering as a cool wind sent cold fingers prickling down his spine. Memories of his last visit into the forest came to the fore of his mind. His leg tingled, just above his ankle, phantom fingers digging into his skin.
Hagrid must have noticed his hesitation because the lumbering half giant stopped, turning to look back at his young friend. Hagrid's face was cast in shadow, his large form subtly blending in.
"Nothing's gonna trouble you." He rumbled, his voice soft and gentle, yet there was a quite strength in it, as sure as the ground the walked on.
A soft puff of wind announced Hedwig's arrival; the white beauty settling on Hadrian's shoulder. She bumped her head against his, crooning softly. Hadrian flexed his hands, his trembling digits opening and closing and let out a shuddering breath. He wet his lips and nodded warily, "Alright."
They moved deep into the forest, the thick foliage quickly shrouding them in gloom. Hagrid lumbered forward, his large hand occasionally brushing against a tree, a murmur escaping him as he brushed the bark. Hadrian would have asked why his friend was doing that but he found himself trying his best to keep up with Hagrid's large strides. For such a large man, Hagrid moved incredibly quickly, yet his footfalls barely disturbed the forest floor.
They reached a curious formation; a line of trees growing so close together they formed wall, a wall of bark and brambles. As they neared, Hadrian felt something in the air. They shouldn't be here; something was wrong. He turned his head this way and that, his ears straining – something was buzzing; from somewhere he couldn't quite tell. Hagrid seemed not to know that something was wrong, or if he did, he didn't care. The half giant continued forward, heading towards an entrance in the wall, an entrance that had not been there before. Hadrian quickly followed – a tingle ran across his body, as he crossed the threshold, standing his hair on end. The buzzing had stopped.
Hagrid had stopped and his arms were cast wide to his side, palms open. The carcasses remained balanced on his shoulder effortlessly. They were in a clearing, the ground soft and loose, covered in dead pine needles and leaves. A soft dappled light, pierced the gloom, casting the place in a hazy green golden glow. It was beautiful and almost ethereal, it reminded Hadrian of something he had read – of where fairies liked to play. Hadrian wondered if this is what Hagrid had wanted to show him. It was out of the way and peaceful, the air smelt sweet. It was certainly worth the long trip, Hadrian mused. He turned to Hagrid, a smile pulling at his lips and opened his mouth – then a chain rattled.
Something shifted in the dark – a patch of shadow deeper and more solid than the rest. It was big, very big. Dark, baleful eyes stared at him and he froze – there were three pairs. Why does it have three pairs of eyes! His mind panicked. A cold sweat broke on his brow and he could feel his heart lurch. Hedwig's talons dug painfully into his shoulder and his breath hitched. Pain brought clarity and he quickly drew back, his feet scrabbling. Instinct warred with logic; turn and run, or stand and fight. Hedwig squawked, her wings spreading out wide. The air grew sharp and in an instant cold and hoarfrost crept around the ground around him. Hadrian snapped his arm forward, summoning his wand. The wood thrummed with energy, growing warm in his hand, eager and ready.
Hadrian felt it before he heard it – the rumble; deep and primal. The sound shook his legs, rattling his bones and beat at his chest until all he knew was the beast's growling. The beast thudded forward, the large paw adorned with foot long claws. Three mouths opened, revealing large gleaming canines dripping with foam.
"Whoa!" Hagrid interjected himself between boy and beast, waving his arms. "Easy now boy, he's a friend." Hagrid soothed, walking towards the large creature.
"Hagrid…!" Hadrian hissed, eyed the mountain of muscle before them.
"It's alright, Hadrian, this here is Fluffy, he gets a bit jumpy, he's not very sociable." Hagrid said, confusing Hadrian even more. This was Fluffy!?
"We brought you your supper." Hagrid continued before with an ease that made Hadrian uncomfortable, the half giant shrugged off the deer carcasses. The meat fell with a dull wet thud, the sound loud. Two heads came down, sniffing and nudging, yet one head remained, eyes fixed on Hadrian himself. Hadrian held his breath; his hand tightened around his wand, the wood creaking. Finally the beast's head chuffed, the sound like gravel before it too dipped towards its meal.
Hadrian watched in morbid fascination as the three heads tore into the carcasses. Massive canines tearing through meat and breaking bones with ease. The heads jostled each other, snapping and harrying. He imagined he could be swallowed in a bite or two. Hadrian felt his stomach churn uneasily; he swallowed, his throat suddenly dry and took a step back.
A twig snapped underfoot and three pairs of eyes snapped to his form. Hadrian felt the ground shake, a tremor passing through it and into his bones – it took him a moment to realise that it was not a minor earthquake but rather the beast, it was growling. The sound deep and menacing, reverberating in its three throats and. A tightness pressed into his chest and a coldness tingled within him sending a trail of goosebumps up his arms and neck.
"Easy there, Fluffy." Hagrid was suddenly there, his bulk taking the beast's attention. "Hadrian is a friend, I've told you, he's not going to steal your dinner." Hagrid patted the middle head, scratching it behind the ears. The beast shuddered, and something – its tail, thumped the ground continously.
"Now finish your dinner." Hagrid shoved the dog away, with little effort.
He's mad, totally and utterly mad, Hadrian thought, watching as Hagrid treated the hellbeast as if a common pet.
"You can tell Hedwig to calm down now Hadrian." Hagrid said oddly, his eyes switching between the ground and the bird on Hadrian's shoulder.
Hadrian noticed that his breath was misting and glanced down, his robes were covered in a soft snow – all around him the ground was covered in hoarfrost. The cold had crept up the trees, long sharp icicles pointing down from the branches – not down he noted, rather towards the Cerberus. Hedwig had her wings spread out, her feathers spread out and sharp, frost wafting off her. With a jolt he realised that he could not feel the cold. No, that was wrong, he could tell it was cold, the air biting at his exposed skin and yet he did not feel uncomfortable, rather it felt good and protective. The cold felt just like Hedwig. Slowly he raised his hand up and threaded his fingers through her feathers. The frost parted away from him and he soothed her frayed senses mentally; or was that their frayed senses.
"That's a Cerberus." Hadrian croaked out, his voice scratchy.
"Yea, dependable the lot of em." Hagrid agreed, watching his pet polish off its dinner.
"The guard of Hades, that same Cerberus?" Hadrian asked again, turning wary eyes to his friend.
"Yes, wizards have been using them to guard all sorts of stuff over the years. They were bred for it." Hagrid explained.
Hadrian wound his arms around himself, watching the creature warily. It was only now that he saw the massive chain that was around the creatures muscular neck. The chain was wound around one of the massive trees prevalent in the forest and then pegged down into the ground. The chain was massive which was fitting considering Fluffy was bigger than an elephant and near twice as wide. Shaggy dark ash grey fur rolled down the Cerberus' back, twitching as rolls of muscle rippled under the surface.
"What's it doing here?" Hadrian wondered aloud.
"See that head?" Hagrid pointed to the left head. "Above the brow, towards the ear."
Hadrian let his gaze follow Hagrid's description and quickly found what his friend was talking about. A scar ran across the top of the head, missing the right eye and continuing to the back, taking a piece of ear with it. It was cruel looking, jagged and deep. It must have hurt.
"Oh." Hadrian didn't know what else to say.
"Yea," Hagrid agreed. "That's not the only one of course."
Without his initial fear and panic, Hadrian could now see them, dozens of scars that crisscrossed the Cerberus' body. Some had taken chunks of flesh, leaving mangled scarred tissue.
"What happened to him?" Hadrian asked slowly.
Hagrid sighed, the gentle giant ran a hand through his beard. He turned sad glistening eyes to his young friend.
"Not everyone is nice to animals Hadrian." Hagrid began slowly, his voice thick. "Apparently Fluffy wasn't aggressive enough, so they were training him." Hagrid spat, his great big fists rising impotently and Hadrian swore he heard the bones creak.
"Fluffy broke out and it was a whole mess. The Department of Magical Creatures wanted to put him down." Hagrid sniffed. "Too rabid they said."
"Professor Dumbledore helped me lobby for ownership, convinced them I could rehabitu – um re…"
"Rehabilitate." Hadrian supplied.
Hagrid snapped his fingers, pleased. "Yea, that. Been doing that since summer. He's doing better now, gets jumpy sometimes, but he's a good boy." Hagrid enthused.
"You said Headmaster Dumbledore knows?" Hadrian asked eventually.
"Yea, he made this place, warded it himself. Nobody can get in here, except if they have permission from me or him. It's a secret you see." Hagrid threw him a smile. Hadrian felt a warmth spread in his chest at the amount of trust the half giant was giving him.
"After the whole unicorn thing, I convinced the headmaster Fluffy would be a big help. Tracking that fiend was hard, imagine if we'd had three expert noses to help that time." Hagrid enthused, his massive beard bristling.
Not to mention the three sets of teeth and massive pair of claws, Hadrian thought. He grimaced and wondered if having something like this would have saved him from all that trouble last year. Probably tried to rend you limb from limb, his mind supplied. Hadrian wondered how damaged he was that the idea did not cause him more distress.
"Are those chains secure?" Hadrian asked, trying to let go of his morbid thoughts. Studying the chains; he thought he could make out tiny somethings when the chain moved.
"Yea, tested them myself and Professor Babbling reinforced them." Hagrid reassured.
Hadrian nodded, that explained the etchings he could just make out. At least that eased his worry somewhat. He didn't know how strong Hagrid was, but he had read that full giants could rip full grown trees right out of the ground, stem and root, just for fun. If Hagrid was half as strong and he couldn't do anything to the chains, then maybe it was safe. But he would be keeping his distance, an answering hum assured him that Hedwig was of the same mind.
"So do you want to pet him?" Hagrid asked.
Hadrian turned and stared in disbelief at the half giant. Was Hagrid daft or something? There was no way he was getting close to those three sets of gleaming fangs. His expression must have been plain on his face because Hagrid let out a belly laugh.
Hadrian scowled and pulled his arms across his chest. He was not letting the jolly giant get to him.
"Fluffy was just grumpy," he patted the Cerberus and the large thing lolled out its tongues, setting itself down. "Hunger can do that to a man."
Hadrian could begrudgingly understand that sentiment; Dudley got terribly irritable when he was peckish or Ron for that matter. Still that was not enough to convince him it was safe. He watched as Hagrid tussled with his dog, and how ridiculous was that statement. Hagrid was play fighting with a Cerberus; each tumble sending a tremor through the ground and the giant seemed to be loving every moment of it. Fluffy would swat at the half giant and Hagrid would catch the paw and lift the dog and throw it aside, laughing all the way. It was ridiculous.
Hadrian found his feet going forward and this time four pairs of eyes found him. He stopped and swallowed down his curse. He tried to meet the three pairs but stopped as his eyes kept darting back and forth. Instead he focused on one set, the middle. The dark depths regarded him, unblinking. He could see his own image in those depths, distorted but real.
"Hi, I'm Hadrian." He spoke, his voice clear, surprising himself. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest and wondered if the three pairs of ears could hear it.
The middle head let out a huff and warm stinky breath hit his face. Hadrian scrunched up his nose and tried not to sneeze. Slowly, warily he raised his hand. His hand was steady, but his leg, his leg was jigging, and he grit his teeth and tried to stop it, he failed. His hand came just short of the middle head. The eyes moved from his face to his hand and he could feel the other pairs looking at him from his peripherals. For a long moment nothing happened and then the middle head moved forward, neck extending until, fur met Hadrian's palm.
"No wonder you call him Fluffy." Hadrian blurted out, marvelling at the softness of the fur. Hagrid merely laughed. There was a rumbling, quick and deep, it travelled up his legs and jostled his bones. The beast was thumping it's tail against the ground, Hadrian realised. The other two heads pushed forward, intent on getting attention as well. Hadrian found his arms occupied, constantly switching as the massive heads jostled for attention. An almost hysterical laugh burst out of him, this is ridiculous, his mind protested and yet he continued to pet the dog.
"So how have you been training him?" Hadrian wondered out loud.
"Well, with this." Hagrid dug into the depths of his coat and pulled out a long intricately carved piece of wood – a flute. The flute looked slim in the half giants hands, but that was all relative considering his size.
"You heard the tale of Orpheus?" Hagrid asked absentmindedly pulling some lint off the instrument. Hadrian nodded, recalling a story he had read a while back, on Greek histories and myths.
"So those stories are true?" Hadrian asked askance.
"I dunno if all of em are, but cerberuses like music, it calms them." Hagrid brought the flute to his lips. "You just have to find the right music is all." The half giant cleared his throat before he blew.
Clear, breathy notes drifted out, floating lazily through the air in soft, lilting whistles. Hadrian could almost see the tones shimmering like sunlight filtering through leaves, gentle and cool – a breeze woven from sound that brushed against him. The melody beckoned him, softly teasing his senses, pulling him into a quiet calm that settled deep within. His eyes drooped and his shoulders dropped, a quiet sigh escaping him.
Then the music stopped.
Hadrian almost jolted awake, his eyes fluttering open. He was leaning against Fluffy; the beast content to let him share it's warmth. The Cerberus was breathing deep, it's form stretched languidly on the forest floor.
"So what do you think?" Hagrid asked, his dark eyes watching the younger wizard closely. His surprisingly dextrous fingers were fiddling with the slim piece instrument.
Hadrian blinked, his mind felt heavy, as if a large blanket had covered it, wrapping it in warmth and laziness. He shook his head, trying to get his mind into gear.
"Hagrid that was good...no. It was brilliant." The young boy praised.
"You think so?" Hagrid frowned. Hadrian nodded enthusiastically, careful not to disturb Fluffy. Hedwig warbled, flapping her wings, magic shimmering about her form.
"See even Hed agrees." Hadrian said firmly. Hagrid's smile was small, yet it lit up his face, his eyes gleaming with moisture.
"Thanks, I've been practicing." The half giant's voice was thick but sincere.
"You think you could play some more?" Hadrian asked.
He got his answer when new notes floated out; the melodies spinning around and embracing him. Hadrian tilted back, careful not to dislodge his familiar. For a moment he gazed up at the forest canopy. His drooping eyes found a splash of colour among the green – red and gold, swaying back and forth to the tune of the flute.
The Runes classroom buzzed softly as the students settled in, bags set down and books opened and loose parchment splayed about. Professor Babbling entered, heels clicking against the stone floor, her arms laden with parchment and books. Silence fell instantly as she arranged her materials, glancing up only once to sweep her eyes over the students. Her gaze went back to the open door and she coughed pointedly. Several students exchanged confused looks, mouths half-open to ask what was wrong — until a dark-haired head peeked into the room.
"Don't be shy now Hadrian, come in and take a seat over there." The professor's chipper voice broke the silence.
Murmurs cascaded around the class, what is he doing here?
Hadrian gripped the strap of his book bag tightly before visibly squaring his shoulders and took a slow step inside the classroom. Eyes followed him as he walked across and took his seat, setting his bag against his chair and pulling out some parchment.
"Good morning, everyone. Today…" Professor Babbling stopped as a hand went up near instantly. Her brow furrowed minutely before she addressed the person.
"Yes, Thomas?" she leaned forward, quirking a brow.
"Pardon me professor," Thomas spoke slowly, casting a glance at the intruder in their midst. He wet his lips before continuing, "But why is he here? He's a second year, isn't he?" He shifted slightly, looking to his friends.
"Ah, yes." Babbling circled her desk and stood at its side. She cast her gaze at her new student briefly.
"Mr. Potter has demonstrated advanced knowledge and skill with runecraft and by recommendation and approval from the school administration he has been allowed to join our classes early, on a trial basis of course." She smiled softly as she said this.
Many eyes again found their way to Hadrian, who hunched his shoulders and drew more into himself. The fifth year's eyed each other, whispering.
"Must be because of that troll…"
"No way this is fair…"
"You know the Headmistress is his godmother right…"
"I think this is bullshit…"
Babbling brought her hands together; the sound was sharp and quickly drew attention.
"I expect you to welcome and treat our new classmate like any other." Her eyes swept across the class, meeting many eyes. "Now if that is all?" She looked towards Thomas who nodded hesitantly.
"Great," she smiled, her shoulders relaxing. "We'll start with a review of last year's concepts," she said, her voice crisp but welcoming. "To see where everyone stands — "
She paused, then looked around. "Let's start with something straightforward: what is the primary function of an Ansuz rune?"
The question hung for only a second before a girl in the second row raised her hand, her voice confident. "Ansuz is… communication. Inspiration, too. It's used to channel intention and connect thoughts."
Professor Babbling nodded. "Correct, Mary; but something is missing." She raised a brow. "Anyone?"
A sandy-haired boy on the opposite side raised his hand. "Isn't it used to enhance memory as well? To 'speak to the mind,' so to speak?" there were a few titters at the unintended pun and the boy smirked lightly.
Babbling nodded approvingly, her gaze sharp as she swept it across the students. "Yes. Ansuz has a subtle connection to mental clarity and insight. Its form invites energy to flow not just to transmit communication, but to receive it. Keep that in mind."
Her gaze flicked, almost unnoticeably, toward Hadrian, and she moved on without waiting. "Next," she called, "what cultures integrated runic systems alongside their language and art?"
Hadrian watched as a few hands went up, each answer coming a bit more readily than the last.
"Scandinavia — Vikings, mostly. They used the Elder Futhark."
"Correct. And?"
"The Anglo-Saxons," another voice chimed in, "they adapted some of the Elder Futhark symbols, but eventually made their own runes – Furthoc."
Babbling acknowledged the answer. "Yes, and?"
Hadrian noticed a slight hesitation; no one else seemed prepared to answer. He raised his hand tentatively, feeling the weight of their stares.
"They weren't the only ones," he said, his voice soft but steady. "The Celts also used them, though… not in exactly the same way. They saw them more as symbols of magic than… letters. There are also other systems, not necessarily runes but still function the same, like Sumerian cuneiform. "
A slight murmur rippled through the room, but Babbling's expression softened, her approval barely masked. "That's correct. Remember, class, each culture saw runes as more than language. They were belief, intent, and magic."
She shifted to the next question, her pace quickening. "Now, can someone explain the difference between active and passive runes?"
Hadrian waited as a boy beside him, smirking faintly, raised his hand. "Active runes have… um, more energy in them. Passive ones don't. It's like a… battery, I suppose?"
Babbling's lips thinned, but she remained composed. "A reasonable start, Timothy, but not quite correct. Anyone else?"
A girl from the far back, her tone somewhat arrogant, answered, "Active runes have to be consciously powered — like for spells or protections — while passive runes just… exist. Like a sigil on a gravestone."
Professor Babbling nodded, though her voice remained critical. "Better, but not entirely accurate. Passive runes indeed 'exist,' but they still channel energy. They draw ambient magic — like a plant draws sunlight." She allowed the class to absorb that before she continued. "And active runes?"
Hadrian felt the words forming almost involuntarily and raised his hand. "Active runes… they need to be triggered with intention and directed by a user. Like turning on a light."
Babbling's expression warmed, her voice softer. "Precisely. Active runes are not self-sustaining. They need intent and direction. Very good."
Babbling leaned back against her desk, her expression thoughtful. Many of the students grimaced, they knew that expression.
"Why do we sometimes draw our scripts in a clockwise direction and sometimes anticlockwise?" She posed.
The class remained quiet, except for some shuffling; then a hand raised, and Thomas answered, "Clockwise for attraction… to draw things to it, while counter clockwise… repels, right?"
Professor Babbling hummed, rocking back and forth, "In essence, yes. Though bear in mind that it's not so simple. Clockwise runes have what we could call a centripetal pull, they are attractive, drawing energies inward, binding them. Counter clockwise runes disperse energy, repelling or releasing it outward."
The professor glanced around the classroom and smiled as she saw more than a few students making notes. She glanced at Hadrian, her gaze lingering for just a moment.
"How would you go about combining runes with different elemental affinities?" She suddenly asked.
The room went quiet, a few students glancing around with clear reluctance. One student, the girl in the back row, opened her mouth to answer but quickly closed it, a frown marring her face. Hadrian felt his pulse quicken; words pricking the back of his mind, but he hesitated. No one raised a hand. With a quiet breath, Hadrian raised his hand. Babbling made a show of looking across the class before she nodded at him.
"Well…" he began slowly, voice quiet and careful, his brow furrowed in thought. "It depends on more than just picking a foundation. It's like…" he stopped, shaking his head minutely, his lips pursed – he continued after a moment, voice confident.
"In Norse tradition – like many others; they treated the earth as their anchor, stable and fixed." His gaze drifted to the window for a second, his voice dipping. "It's something to rely on. Earth comes first because it keeps everything grounded. Mother Gaia, the root of all things."
He paused, glancing toward Professor Babbling, who met his gaze with a slight nod, encouraging him to go on.
"Then you'd need something that binds, but allows transition, something with movement," he continued, gathering confidence as he lost himself in the thought. "Water makes sense here. The Egyptians believe water feeds everything and brought life, it is connective force — flowing between the elements and capable of changing states – it is adaptive and transformative." he tapped his fingers across his desk idly, the sound almost hypnotic in the silence.
"If Water follows Earth, it connects to everything… like a bridge between what's grounded and what's… free." Hadrian continued his voice bolstered with confidence; "With Fire and Water… well, they don't mix easily. But if you look at Japanese philosophy, they use Fire to refine and transform, while Water shapes. So, if you keep them apart, maybe they… balance each other." He mused.
"Or, if you want a more complex effect, you could place fire next to earth, for transformation and use water to control the interaction, letting them strengthen rather than undo each other." Hadrian seemed to go off tangent, his words dropping low and becoming mutters.
Some of the students exchanged surprised glances, a few of them leaning forward, now openly curious. Professor Babbling smiled faintly, clearly intrigued, and waited as Hadrian's thoughts continued to flow.
"And… some systems have more elements than others. Like, in Chinese runes… they have Wood, which connects life and movement, feeding into Fire. So, you could start with Earth, add Water, then have Wood in between. Each rune connects to the next, almost like a cycle. Each one feeds the next, but only if you're… careful."
He trailed off, suddenly aware of the silence that had settled in the room, every face now focused intently on him. He coughed a bit, his cheeks flushing.
"Um, but if you're using the Norse tradition; I would start with Earth, make it the large base, then Water to fill in the matrices and depending on the geometry, I would buffer that with Air and then make smaller links with Fire, connecting fire's energy with the air to feed it, but balancing it out with the coolness of water. Yea, but it depends on what it to do really, there's too many unknowns, I think."
The silence was deafening. Hadrian ducked his head down, heat creeping up his neck. He dug his fingers into the wood of his desk, his knuckles turning white.
A throaty chuckle broke the silence and Hadrian quickly looked up. The professor looked pleased, her eyes crinkled up at the corners.
"Very insightful, Hadrian," Professor Babbling said flashing him her teeth. "Each system has its conventions and subtleties – there is no one way to do it. It depends on the system and what effect you are trying to create."
She pushed off her desk and spun around, her wand waving at the board. Chalk flew up and started scribbling madly at the board.
"This is OWL year, as such it is the culmination of everything you have learnt in the past two years. From your alphabets and symbols," she pointed to the board, that had expanded to accommodate the writing. "Simple symbol effects –" again she pointed, "Combinational logic of symbols. Until finally what we shall cover this year, full scripts, simple wards and effects."
She spun round and grinned impishly at her class, "I suggest you buckle down."
*
"Hmm." Professor Babbling shuffled the sheaf of papers, her finger tracing the patterns with a practiced eye. Hadrian stood before her desk waiting, his leg cramping up painfully from standing still. Hadrian's fingers were fiddling with his wand; the dark wood warm in his hand; its magic sending a steady pulse up his arms, it almost felt comforting.
The afternoon class had finished and Hadrian had stayed behind, hoping to talk to his new mentor. He had been hesitant, asking for her help so soon, but he had hit a brick wall in his project and didn't know what else to do. He had handed her his notes and asked for her help. She had looked at him then, her dark eyes gleaming with something he couldn't tell; "Is this the little project that had you brooding all week in the workshop?" she had finally asked.
"I wasn't brooding." Hadrian sputtered in protest.
"Right." The older witch had nodded her head exaggeratedly before accepting the notes and taking a look at them. That had been over thirty minutes ago and Hadrian had steadily grown impatient.
"Well? What do you think?" he finally asked.
"I think you lack patience." the young professor retorted. She set down the notes and faced him, brow quirked in amusement, daring him to say anything else. Hadrian bit back an instinctive response and instead lowered his head, contrite.
"Sorry, Professor." He said, lacking any sincerity. Professor Babbling looked at him unimpressed before she scoffed and waved him off.
"Maybe it wouldn't take me so long if you organised your notes better, honestly, this is a mess." She waved the parchment in front of him. "Its like you just dumped these and hoped to forget them."
He actually had; but he wasn't going to admit that, "I will do better next time." He hedged.
"You'd better. No self-respecting apprentice of mine is going to be so poorly organised." She puffed out her chest in emphasis. Hadrian almost scoffed, his eyes panning to her messy desk and ink stained fingers. But again he was not going to mention any of that.
"I thought I wasn't your official apprentice?" he asked instead.
"That just semantics." she waved off his question. "I just don't have my full mastery yet, ergo can't take on an official apprentice."
"Does it take long?" he wondered. "Getting a mastery?"
"Hoo, you looking to get one so early? What's the rush?" she put down the papers and turned her twinkling eyes on him.
"Um maybe?" he wondered, somewhat taken aback by her expression.
"Well it usually doesn't take long; there's a few tests of competence, board certification, a thesis, then you have to make an artifact of sorts." she explained casually.
That seems like a lot, when you think about it, Hadrian realised.
"An artifact? What's that?" he decided to ask.
"An original creation, an enchanted item, just one not easily replicable via traditional magic." she brought the back of her hand across her mouth to cover up a yawn. "Most people don't get masteries in Runes; the process is involving."
Hadrian wanted to ask at what stage she was; was she making an artifact? Instead he said, "I guess I still have a long way to go."
"Oh definitely; but I think you're on the right track." She pointed to his notes. "This sequence here – its responsible for replication, right? Did you base it off a charm? I can see your arithmancy here." She moved the papers about, pulling one out with a series of calculations.
"Yes." Hadrian leaned forward eagerly. "I read about the Gemini charm, for doubling things. I can cast the spell, sometimes, though it doesn't last long, so I tried to make a rune version."
"Why didn't you try anchoring the charm? That's how must people combine the two." She wondered outloud.
"Well I thought of it and I did try it – see here." He pointed to a section of his notes.
"Ah yes." She quickly read through his notes and picked out the problem. "Your spell didn't always catch?"
"Well yea," he fidgeted at her stare, feeling heat creep at the nape of his neck. The spell was simple in principal but hard to execute; the Gemini Charm was a charm-transfiguration hybrid and duplicated an object – skilled practitioners could duplicate things to the most minute detail or even isolate what needed duplicating; he had seen his aunt do it when he had asked for a demonstration. Hadrian was aware that he was skilled, but he was currently not there yet, far from it.
"So hence your replication sequence." Babbling noted.
"Yea, I think this gives me more flexibility." Hadrian shrugged.
Babbling nodded as she heard his explanation; "Link that to a transference sequence and you have something to transfer the specified object without destroying the original; in this case ink. It's well thought out, a bit crude but still a nice idea."
Hadrian frowned at her description of his idea; he didn't think it was crude, in any case it should have worked but it wasn't and he posed the same question to her.
"Well," She started copying a section of his work. "See this?"
"Yes my transfer sequence, what's wrong with it?
"Well from what I can see, you've set it so that once it detects the ink, it begins the transfer, which is fine, to simulate real time communication of course. But you haven't specified when to stop on either of the twin matrices." She explained, watching him intently.
Hadrian frowned, "I'm not sure I understand."
Babbling nodded and leaned back, trying to explain it better. "Okay, you have a transfer sequence on both sides, coupled with a duplication sequence, but you haven't set parameters on when each of them activates and deactivates, except the presence of ink; so when one starts the transfer and the other gets the ink..." she trailed off.
"The other one also activates. It transfers and duplicates, again and again. Back and forth. A positive feedback loop." Hadrian exclaimed.
"Exactly, ink and energy, going back and forth until..." she mimed an explosion with her fingers.
"Ink in my face and smoking parchment." he brought his hands to his face, rubbing his temple with the sole of his palms. "How did I miss that?"
"Don't be hard on yourself. It happens to the best of us." Babbling shrugged lightly. "Sometimes we get so hyper focused on the one mechanism, that we are blind to everything else." She got up and stretched.
"When you hit a block, take some time off and come back at it with fresh eyes, it helps." She smiled down at him.
"Thanks professor; I'll rework the parameters. Could you cross check it after I'm done?" he asked quietly.
"Well, it is what I'm here for Mr Potter." she jerked her thumb at herself, giving him a lopsided grin. Hadrian felt his own mouth curve in response. There was a moment where she looked to say something else before the smile faded from her face.
"Is something wrong?" Hadrian asked, a knot growing in his stomach.
"No...just – do you mind if I borrow this bit of your project?" She pointed to his replication sequence.
"Um why?" He looked at his notes; it was his attempt to recreate the Gemini charm.
"I promise I'm not stealing it or anything of the sort." she quickly reassured. "It just reminds me of something I've seen before and I want to figure it out. I may have to show it to Septimus, though."
"Um who?" Hadrian frowned at the unfamiliar name.
"The Arithmancy professor; Professor Vector." She explained her eyes laughing.
"I guess that's okay." Hadrian finally relented.
"Great. Since you're so worried about theft; I'll teach you how to encode, obscure and protect your scripts from alteration and tampering. How's that sound." She offered.
Hadrian grinned, maybe having a mentor wouldn't be so bad.
Meetings were boring, even the important ones, but Minerva had found that she could slug through most meetings if she kept the discussion brief and to the point; and she usually got away with it, her clipped voice and stern stares often ensured that. But in the case of the Head of House meetings, she found her tolerance strained, especially when the Headmaster was presiding – after all Dumbledore often enjoyed the squabbles between the head of Gryffindor and Slytherin.
Minerva pursed her lips, her eyes turning flinty as Snape and Avery traded barbs and veiled insults. She turned her gaze to the headmaster; but he looked thoroughly unbothered, his eyes glued to a stack of parchment. Pamona was knitting what looked to be a scarf and Minerva overcame the urge to sigh at the act. Flitwick was looking back and forth between the two arguing heads, eyes alight with humour and mischief.
"Enough!" Minerva flared her power, causing the two professors to flinch. Pamona squawked, dropping her needles.
"My how rude." Pamona protested, picking up her yarn. The head of Hufflepuff missed the glare the Deputy Headmistress threw at her.
"You two, will cease your squabbling, you are not children – though it does not mean I cannot put you over my knee." Minerva stared pointedly at the two. Avery looked fairly ill at the idea and quickly looked away, while Severus grimaced like he had tasted something sour.
"Yes, thank you Minerva." Dumbledore interjected, putting his parchment down. All around, the table ignored the muttering of the deputy.
"We have all, I believe, had time to observe our newest colleague. I would have your thoughts." Dumbledore open the floor.
"My Puffs have been enjoying his classes so far, he seems to focus more on practical uses." Pamona spoke distractedly, her fingers picking at the scones before her.
"He lacks theoretical grounding. My upper years have complained..." Severus curled his lips in distaste.
"Your students always complain." Avery scoffed.
"I will have you kn..." Severus began but met the stern gaze of the Headmistress and bit back his words. Avery smirked, triumphant at getting that final dig at him.
"I must agree with Severus on this occasion, I have observed and had reports of the same." Filius mused, fingers absently brushing his moustache.
"I cannot say I am surprised at the fact – when we presented candidates for the position, he was taken for his experience in the field." Minerva mused. "His records showed a gift for practical magic, not the theoretical aspects."
"Can that be compensated for?" Avery asked as she reached for her cup of tea and took a dainty sip, letting out a contented sigh.
"Well theory becomes much more important in the advanced classes and while discussions in class are important, reading assignments can certainly bridge the gap." Flitwick offered diplomatically.
A few of the professors nodded their heads, agreeing, while Severus looked displeased.
"Really? We offer a cushion for his shortcomings. What does that say of us?" The head of Slytherin hissed out.
"That we are willing to cover each other's weaknesses, like your poor ability to communicate instructions." Avery answered blithely.
"It is not my fault that many of your students lack the skill to comprehend simple English." Severus' response was biting, prompting a scowl from Avery.
"That aside," Minerva physically raised a hand to cut in before the irate Gryffindor head could retort. "He is better than some of the Defence professors of the past. While I too may have reservations, I think there is enough to hope he may grow into the role in time."
"He approached me – wanted advice on restarting a duelling club." Flitwick added.
Minerva admitted to feeling a modicum of surprise; while she would never call the new professor lazy, she had certainly not expected that sort of enterprise from him. Avery and Pamona seemed rather enthused by the idea.
"Well, I think it is an excellent idea – Hogwarts has been absent from the school duelling circuit for quite a while now." the head of Hufflepuff gushed.
"Yea, you could finally brush off some of the rust Professor Flitwick." Avery grinned at the diminutive professor.
"I admit the idea has merit." Flitwick chuckled good-naturedly.
Severus scoffed, his expression twisting into a sneer; "You all seem to forget why we have been absent from the competitions – we haven't managed to hold onto a proper Defence instructor for more than two years."
"Yes there is that." Minerva grimaced in distaste, a feeling shared by all those around the table. Dumbledore let out a displeased hum.
It was a well known fact that over the many years few if any of the defence professors remained at their post for more than a year. The fact had become a running joke as well as a blight on the otherwise pristine record of Hogwarts as well as its venerable headmaster. The fact that their last Professor, Quirrel, had met a fatal end had discouraged many from applying for the cursed position. Curse being the operative word, as there was enough evidence to suggest that a curse had been placed on the position. Curse breakers had been called and scoured the castle up and down to no avail; whatever anchor had been used for the curse, it continued to elude them.
Despite this the faculty had managed to find ways to mitigate and work around the curse. Their measures had ensured that Hogwarts still gave an acceptable level of education in Defence.
Minerva's musings were cut off when she noticed a large brown owl regarding her from a closed window. The bird's sharp eyes cut to her and she felt an animalistic instinct awake at the back of her mind. The bird dares challenge us, her inner cat reared its head. She twitched, the movement minute and unnoticeable to all but the most observant. She felt Dumbledore shift beside her; she grimaced – the man would hold this over her. With practiced ease she tamped down on her feline instincts, letting her human mind remain firmly in control.
A simple flex of magic saw the window open to admit the bird. On silent wings the owl landed before her and she noticed an important detail. Across the owl's breast, held secured by a belt and brace of leather was a golden medallion, stamped prominently with a large 'G' for Gringotts.
"Ho, checking your bank statements Headmistress?" Filius asked leaning forward.
Minerva finally noticed that the meeting had quietened – everyone's attention firmly on her mail. She frowned slightly as she wondered what the owl would be delivering. It was not time for her scheduled correspondence with the Potter Account Manager and Ripclaw was a stickler for time. Perhaps it was something else; yes, that made sense.
She reached for the small tube tied to the owl's leg and from it pulled out a sheaf of parchment; the paper expanding as it left the confines of enchanted mail tube. With a swift eye, she skimmed over the top documents and nodded satisfied, it was as she had suspected. Truly the goblin worked fast she mused.
"Just some simple permits and housing forms, nothing serious." She addressed the room. "I apologise for the interruption." She dipped her head. Dumbledore waved her off, his expression pleasant.
"I would not begrudge you mail, my dear Minerva, I for one receive far too much of the damned things." Dumbledore said the last with visible distaste, prompting a few chuckles around the table.
"Thank you." Minerva flashed a quick smile before she turned thoughtful.
"That does remind me, Avery." Minerva turned to the dark-haired head of Gryffindor. "I would like to pick your brain once the meeting is over, in your area of expertise?"
For a moment the younger witch looked flatfoot at the unexpected request, before nodding to confirm her assent.
"Perhaps we should continue with the meeting, if you are done with your distractions Headmistress?" Severus asked pointedly, dark eyes accusing.
"Quite right, Severus." Minerva replied, a bland smile sliding across her face. The deputy head made a show of reaching across the table and picking out a piece of parchment. Severus felt a cold shiver trail down his spine as feline eyes turned to regard him.
"Tell me what have you done to curb the recent spate of bullying that was reported in your house? I am most curious." Minerva asked, her smile decidedly unkind.
Severus ground his teeth, visibly uncomfortable at the non sequitur. Minerva tried not to let her amusement show; Severus always did think himself the cleverest and she quite enjoyed watching him scramble for answers. She patently ignored how much Avery seemed to be enjoying Severus' discomfort.
The sun had begun to dip when the other members of staff started to file pout of the room. Dumbledore had given her a questioning glance at the threshold of the room; her reassuring nod had seen him relax minutely before he had swept out of the room.
A slight cough drew Minerva's attention and she turned to see Avery looking at her rather pointedly. Minerva offered the younger professor a wan smile – she remembered a much younger Gryffindor years past, unafraid to speak her mind and full of passion. Minerva was glad to see that it had served the younger witch well.
"Thank you for staying Avery, I appreciate it." Minerva pulled out a few files.
"It is no issue deputy Headmistress; in fact, I confess I am rather curious on what you wanted to discuss." Avery shifted in her seat, trying to make herself more comfortable – a lost cause of course, the chairs in the staffroom were the most uncomfortable in the entire castle. The meeting had dragged on longer than Minerva was comfortable with; her back could certainly attest to that – she would indulge herself and have a long soak in the tub after this.
"Does it have anything to do with the mail you received?" The younger witch asked casually, her tone fishing. Minerva suppressed her amusement; Avery did enjoy her gossip.
"Yes actually. But it is my hope that this conversation goes no further than between us. This is a personal affair after all." Minerva offered the other witch a level look, clear in her intentions.
"Yes, of course." Avery flushed slightly, but still straightened he posture, her dark eyes gleaming. "How may I assist?"
"As is probably obvious to you, I am the proxy to the Potter estate." Minerva began prompting Avery to nod. It was no secret that Minerva was Hadrian's godmother, duly appointed by the young heir's deceased parents. As Hadrian had no other living magical relatives, Minerva acted as his proxy in near all things. Avery was aware of such things, as they fell well within her field of expertise.
"We would like to start reclaiming the old Potter lands; revamp and redevelop them." Minerva continued.
"That sounds like quite the undertaking." Avery frowned, leaning back in her chair. The Potter lands, those in the public register were substantial, prominent among them being the old docks that had once been magical Britain's premier port. War and time had not been kind to those holdings.
"Quite; but we have a plan and it all begins with a cleansing of the lands." Minerva said leadingly.
Realisation flashed in Avery's eyes; her mind quickly working out what the older witch was alluding.
"You're researching rituals." Avery stated, her dark eyes staring at the older witch. Minerva gave a firm nod.
"Yes, and I was looking for some guidance, and rituals fall within your realm of expertise." Minerva spread her hands in emphasis.
"Well, more along the academic aspect of it all; the Ministry has placed many restrictions on ritualistic magic – rightly so of course, it is super dangerous." Avery muttered the last bit.
"Yes," Minerva suppressed an amused twitch of her lips. "So can you point me in the right direction?"
"What do you have so far?" Avery asked, shaking off her funk.
Minerva slid a sheaf of notes to the younger witch. Avery quickly started going through them, muttering to herself softly. Minerva was content to let the younger woman take her time. Instead, she let her eyes drift over to the window, watching the late afternoon light dapple across the lake.
Avery putting the parchment down was the signal for Minerva to turn back her attention to her companion. Avery had a thoughtful look on her face, her well-manicured nails tapping the wood between them.
"This is quite an extensive bit of research." Avery hedged.
"I have always enjoyed being thorough with my homework." Minerva allowed herself to preen slightly.
"Riight." Avery coughed slightly, gathering her thoughts. "Well from what I know, the Potter's ancestral lands were quite large – the damage and atrocities done to the settlement there will have stained and seeped into the very ground. Getting rid of it, will require a substantial amount of power."
"The settlement was established near a ley line; could we not rely on that?" Minerva wondered out loud.
"Yes," Avery nodded. "But you'll need the right sort of catalysts and conduits for this – highly pure and concentrated." Avery tacked on.
Minerva nodded, her quill scratching out some notes. She looked up at the younger witch and gestured for her to go on.
"What would you suggest?"
"Well – quartz, phoenix ashes, powdered unicorn horn, untouched waters – hmm or maybe midnight's dew." Avery rattled off, her eyes a bit distant.
"There are nymphs in the forests around the lands, yes?" Avery's eyes sharpened as she regarded the older witch. "I think I read about that somewhere."
"Yes, we were planning to ask them for assistance actually." Minerva said slowly.
"Good; that's good." Avery nodded. "You're going to need seeds then, for trees. Nymphs tend to be partial to oak, holly as well. If you can get them to agree, they'll probably tell you what seeds to use."
"And what about the actual matrix and time for the ritual?" Minerva peered at her younger colleague curiously.
"Spring, during the equinox would be best I think." Avery rattled off quickly. Minerva nodded, spring was the time of rebirth and beginnings after all.
"The shape would be trickier – hmm, well three concentric rings are usually the most stable, but..." Avery trailed off, chewing her lip.
"Yes? Come now, don't leave me in suspense." Minerva prodded, leaning forward.
"Three connected spirals – a triskelion. It has aspects of rebirth which is exactly what you want for a ritual like this." Avery offered.
"Hmm I know of it; I imagine it would be more difficult though." Minerva frowned, even as she drew the symbol on her notes.
"Yes, but the spirals, naturally concentrate energy and the result is magnitudes larger than normal circles." Avery emphasised by imitating an explosion with her hands.
"Assuming everything goes right." Minerva pointed out.
"Well yes, but that's the risk of all rituals Professor, you can have all the ingredients and your incantation right and they can still go to shit." Avery snarked.
"I suppose we ought to be careful then." Minerva surmised wryly. Avery answered with laughter.
Gilderoy fixed his coat as he stepped into the warm interior of the inn; summer had clearly had its last hurrah and autumn was fast approaching. The place looked familiar, almost unchanged from when he had been here last; years ago. Aged wood led to a spacious rustic room, the floor was polished to a shine and on one side a fire happily crackled away – it was nice, he mused.
"My, my, if it isn't Mr Lockhart." A throaty voice greeted him.
"Madam Rosmerta." His smile came with practised ease, lips pulling back, white teeth gleaming and his eyes crinkling. He took a step forward, grabbing her hand and gently brushing his lips against her knuckles. He took a whiff of her scent; woodsmoke and cinnamon, a rather pleasant combination.
"Such a charmer. What brings a man such as yourself to my humble little pub?" the proprietor shifted, sweeping a hand across the room. Lockhart tried his best to keep his eyes on her face, not usually a hard task considering how pleasant it was; yet today seemed to be one of those days that she had dressed a bit more boldly.
"Why I've heard tell that there's quite a good stew to be found here and the company is quite delightful." His eyes drifted slightly to her chest. The older woman giggled, batting her lashes at him exaggeratedly.
"Careful now Mr Lockhart." She leaned in close brushing against him. He let out a gulp and her eyes flashed in victory. She stepped back and flashed him a welcoming smile, her posture entirely different.
"Now why don't you find yourself a booth – over there; and I'll bring you something to eat and you can relax." she gestured to an empty booth on the far side.
Nodding gratefully, Gilderoy made his way to the booth, divesting himself of his coat. He looked around at the pub; there were various tables and chairs spread about the wooden floor. At the far end was the counter, long and solid, where even now he could see the madam busy making his meal. There were only a few other patrons in; it was a weekday after all and it was hardly evening. He blinked as Rosmerta set a bowl of stew and a plate of bread on the table, the cutlery clinking.
"I'll bring you a pint of some mead I opened the other day, goes down well with the stew, I think. Enjoy!" She flashed him a smile and then she was gone, bustling about. For a few moments he watched her bustle about, his eyes drifting below her waist. The smell of his meal finally pulled his eyes away and he found his mouth watering.
The meal was excellent and he found himself digging in with gusto. The meals from the castle were always the best, but Rosmerta's cooking was not second place. He was just wiping the last bit of gravy when she brought him the mead. He wasn't one for overly sweet drinks so he was pleasantly surprised when his tentative sip brought with it a dry fruity taste – it was good; she'd been right, it washed down the stew quite well. He raised the glass towards her in appreciation.
"Are you done stuffing yourself then?"
Gilderoy sputtered, chocking on his drink; he coughed, slapping his chest to clear his airways.
"Merlin's balls, where did you come from." He glared at the newcomer but the man only shrugged.
"Here." The man pulled out a handkerchief and held it out to Gilderoy.
Muttering under his breath, Gilderoy snatched the handkerchief and proceeded to dab at his shirt.
"You're late." Gilderoy accused eventually, trying to glare at the man, but found that his eyes could not find purchase on any of his facial features. All he could tell was that he was tall, possessed dark hair and had a gruff voice – which was nothing of note to be honest. This reminded him painfully of his encounter back at the club. His hands ghosted over his chest, remembering the phantom pains of that night. He felt his shoulders tense.
"Had to make sure you weren't followed." the man offered, leaning back in his seat.
"Well?" prompted Gilderoy feeling his patience waning quickly. He glanced around the room; nobody was paying them undue attention. Rosmerta was busy serving some patrons.
"You have done well so far." the man offered.
"Right," Gilderoy frowned crossing his arms in front of him. "All I did was follow your suggestions." he groused.
"Don't make a fuss – take the compliment." the man shook his head.
"Yes, like the good little dog." Gilderoy rolled his eyes.
"Exactly." the man leaned forward, his expression for once clear; a self-satisfied smirk. Gilderoy grunted, his face twisting into a grimace.
"Here." the man reached into his coat and pulled out a pouch, a velvet pouch and with surprising gentleness set it on the table.
Gilderoy stared; the pouch was small, innocuous; other than the material there was nothing special about it and yet – it seemed to weigh down the space between them.
"Take it." the man said simply.
Gilderoy reached forward and stopped, glancing back and forth between the pouch and the man. He found that his throat had gone dry and swallowed, the action almost painful; "Why now?"
Impatience entered the man's tone, "You were being watched, assessed; that's no longer the case. They are satisfied."
Gilderoy didn't bother asking who 'they' were; he knew. He had been aware of the scrutiny, not so much their presence but had expected that to be the case. He was new, it only made sense. That it was over so quickly did surprise him though – he supposed he couldn't complain about the suggestions he had gotten. He snorted internally, calling them suggestions didn't change their nature; they were orders, plain and simple.
"Take it." the command was clear this time.
Gilderoy hated how his hand shook; the quakes almost unnoticeable – but he knew, could feel them and he could tell that his companion could tell as well, relished it. He regarded the pouch, and it seemed to regard him in turn, as ridiculous as that sounded. He could feel something, pressing against him; and he could hear something, a pounding behind his ears. Was that his heartbeat, or was that something else. Dammit, he cursed internally. He grit his teeth and slammed his eyes shut before he snatched the pouch up. Silence – there was no explosion, no light or tingle up his arm; just cloth with something rigid within. What was going on?
"You have a week to deliver it to the target. Don't cuck it up." There was a swish of cloth and the man was gone, the door to the pub opening and closing quickly. Gilderoy paid the man little attention, his hands weighing the item in his hands. A moment of indecision and then his fingers were pulling apart the strings and he pulled out the contents.
"A book?" he blinked in surprise. "What the hell?" He had expected more not something so plain. He could glance away and not even know the book was on the table. Perhaps that was the point? The point of what? He mused. Why was he even thinking about this? Was he really going to go through with this?
"Everything all right here?" Rosmerta asked peering over his shoulder. Gilderoy startled, nearly dropping the slim book.
"Ha ha, just making some notes for my next class." he offered, scratching his neck.
"Oh such a dedicated professor; I suppose I should take back this then?" She raised a jug, the liquid inside sloshing. His nose twitched and he could smell the alcohol. He looked at her appraisingly and she smiled, coy, her blue eyes twinkling.
"I wouldn't mind a refill." He raised his mug and plastered on a smile. "If you would be so kind?"
She giggled and bent down to refill his mug, brushing against him, ever so slightly. She offered him a rosy smile before retreating, her hips swaying. Gilderoy gripped the mug and took a long draught, his other hand holding onto the slim black book tightly. What had he gotten himself in?
Edited 8 Jan 2025
AN: I realise it has been some time since I uploaded a chapter. I lost most of my drafts and got a tad frustrated. I have also come to the realisation that I have been going about this in a way that is not sustainable; I have tried to write perfect chapters, cover all possible plotholes and the like. I got caught up in all that instead of simply enjoying what I had created in my head. I don't think i'll be doing that anymore. Obviously that does not mean i will drop the quality and standard I've set myself, I'll just not kill myself trying to get there.
Anyway, this was a lighter chapter in some ways, please tell me what you think, I enjoy reading your thoughts on things. Read, Enjoy and please Review.