Phenomenal Cosmic Power (Harry Potter/Multicross SI)
- Thread starter Pakeha
- Start date
- Crossover
The calm before exams.
With the return from the Christmas break, classes suddenly seemed to take on a new intensity. The Professors started piling on more homework to our weekly workload, the classes delved into the theory behind every single spell we'd learned, and the hours spent trying to perfect every single charm and potion became more gruelling.
Easter flew by almost unnoticed, and with the end of year exams looming, Charlie and Tonk's banter died down as they worried over their homework, preparing for their N.E.W.T. papers.
I, on the other hand, had decided not to stress myself out over exams.
With the seventh years struggling away behind piles of books and Cedric off with his other friends, I was a bit freer in what I could research, and I now had a whole new world of spells open to me.
"Kryono," I said, aiming at the dented cauldron in the same abandoned fireplace I'd tested spells in a hundred times before.
Frost crept across the black metal and I ended the spell in a rush. It wasn't supposed to do that! It was supposed to be a cooling charm, not a freezing spell. I checked the tattered tome on the table beside me, rereading the spell's description for the umpteenth time. I'm pretty sure I had the wand-movement wrong.
Unfortunately, unclear instructions were only one of the many issues I'd had with the books from the Room of Requirement. They were stashed away for a reason after all.
The history books are dry and filled with out of date information, the potions books have recipes that require herbs that went extinct centuries ago, and even the private grimoires and notebooks of past students are disappointing, filled with joke spells, or magic that requires full-on chanting and hectic wand-movement to work.
Even with all that, I've still managed to find a few gems.
"Ardere Armos!" I said carefully, whipping my wand-arm forward. In the abandoned fireplace, the frost vaporised as the dented cauldron glowed cherry red.
"Kryono," I said, uttering the counter-spell.
Slowly, the heat leached out of it, leaving the cauldron blackened and the hearth speckled with flakes of hammerscale. Thankfully, this time, I didn't turn the fireplace into an icebox.
"You's do know some strange magic," Glirus chirped from the nearby bench.
"You're not the only one who likes learning new magic," I replied, stepping forward to check if the spell had worked properly.
Glirus stared at the cauldron. Deep in thought.
"Why's you always practicing?" he asked eventually. "Why in the kitchens?"
Shrugging, I continued to examine the cauldron.
"As I said before, I like learning new magic," I said. "Plus, you're good company."
A quick glance at Glirus and I knew it was the wrong thing to say. He was staring at me in awe.
Merlin no! Please Glirus, don't turn into Dobby.
"Also," I continued, trying to head off whatever Glirus was thinking, "my friends like to study here. Although I think they mainly come here for the snacks."
"I heard that Le Fay!" Tonks called out from behind her stack of books. "I am motivated by more than food you know."
I didn't deign to answer her, instead, glancing back at Glirus, who was still staring at me with wide eyes.
Turning back to the cauldron, I cast another 'Ardere Armos' while doing my damndest to ignore the situation I'd created.
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"Hey, Carnac!" Tonk's asked during one of her numerous interludes between cramming, "what spell is that?"
Ever since my foray into overpowered charms, both Tonks and Charlie had taken a sudden interest in my spell-work. I guess it pays to know when to duck after all, although the way Tonks was staring at the white-hot cauldron, I think she realised the desk wouldn't be a good enough shield if I set this one off.
"Ardere Armos," I replied. "I'm pretty sure it was a jinx to cook knights in their armour. Not very useful nowadays, but it seems to work well enough on all the metal I've tried it on."
Tonks nodded absentmindedly, and I subtly moved in front of the open tome I'd gotten the spell from. Most of the magic was okay, but there were a few spells that I suspect the Ministry wouldn't approve of. Plus, I didn't want to answer any questions about where I'd gotten it from.
"I have to ask," Tonks said eventually. "Why are you so relaxed with your exams coming up? Most people are cramming for their end-of-year tests, but you're playing with new spells. I know you're not exactly doing O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s, but normally firsties are a bit more panicked than you are. Heck, I remember Cedric was absolutely frantic last year for his finals."
"I feel pretty confident," I said lightly, which was true. My spell-work was spot on, and I knew everything I needed to know for the essays. Plus, I wasn't too worried about following the curriculum.
After all, a certain pact with an eldritch being meant that I wouldn't even get the chance to finish my schooling at Hogwarts.
"In the practicals, I can understand," Tonks scoffed. "I'm scared you'll give the Professors a heart attack when you turn a splinter into a great-sword or overpower your lumos or something. But, I haven't even seen you touch a quill. How are you with the theoretical side of things? On the essay writing?"
"I'm good," I said.
Tonks gave me a long, contemplative look, before shaking her head.
"Okay then," she said, glancing in disdain at the books piled around her. "I'll let you get back to your thing."
Staring at the cauldron, I stared at the smouldering metal. I felt a little bit ashamed about turning away Tonk's small offer of help, even if it was an excuse to put off her own work.
"Do yous know any more spells? Master Le Fay?" Glirus asked before I could get too angsty. "Or are yous done for today?"
"I'm done," I said softly.
Maybe it was best if I did a little bit of a swotting for the written exams after all.
Easter flew by almost unnoticed, and with the end of year exams looming, Charlie and Tonk's banter died down as they worried over their homework, preparing for their N.E.W.T. papers.
I, on the other hand, had decided not to stress myself out over exams.
With the seventh years struggling away behind piles of books and Cedric off with his other friends, I was a bit freer in what I could research, and I now had a whole new world of spells open to me.
"Kryono," I said, aiming at the dented cauldron in the same abandoned fireplace I'd tested spells in a hundred times before.
Frost crept across the black metal and I ended the spell in a rush. It wasn't supposed to do that! It was supposed to be a cooling charm, not a freezing spell. I checked the tattered tome on the table beside me, rereading the spell's description for the umpteenth time. I'm pretty sure I had the wand-movement wrong.
Unfortunately, unclear instructions were only one of the many issues I'd had with the books from the Room of Requirement. They were stashed away for a reason after all.
The history books are dry and filled with out of date information, the potions books have recipes that require herbs that went extinct centuries ago, and even the private grimoires and notebooks of past students are disappointing, filled with joke spells, or magic that requires full-on chanting and hectic wand-movement to work.
Even with all that, I've still managed to find a few gems.
"Ardere Armos!" I said carefully, whipping my wand-arm forward. In the abandoned fireplace, the frost vaporised as the dented cauldron glowed cherry red.
"Kryono," I said, uttering the counter-spell.
Slowly, the heat leached out of it, leaving the cauldron blackened and the hearth speckled with flakes of hammerscale. Thankfully, this time, I didn't turn the fireplace into an icebox.
"You's do know some strange magic," Glirus chirped from the nearby bench.
"You're not the only one who likes learning new magic," I replied, stepping forward to check if the spell had worked properly.
Glirus stared at the cauldron. Deep in thought.
"Why's you always practicing?" he asked eventually. "Why in the kitchens?"
Shrugging, I continued to examine the cauldron.
"As I said before, I like learning new magic," I said. "Plus, you're good company."
A quick glance at Glirus and I knew it was the wrong thing to say. He was staring at me in awe.
Merlin no! Please Glirus, don't turn into Dobby.
"Also," I continued, trying to head off whatever Glirus was thinking, "my friends like to study here. Although I think they mainly come here for the snacks."
"I heard that Le Fay!" Tonks called out from behind her stack of books. "I am motivated by more than food you know."
I didn't deign to answer her, instead, glancing back at Glirus, who was still staring at me with wide eyes.
Turning back to the cauldron, I cast another 'Ardere Armos' while doing my damndest to ignore the situation I'd created.
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"Hey, Carnac!" Tonk's asked during one of her numerous interludes between cramming, "what spell is that?"
Ever since my foray into overpowered charms, both Tonks and Charlie had taken a sudden interest in my spell-work. I guess it pays to know when to duck after all, although the way Tonks was staring at the white-hot cauldron, I think she realised the desk wouldn't be a good enough shield if I set this one off.
"Ardere Armos," I replied. "I'm pretty sure it was a jinx to cook knights in their armour. Not very useful nowadays, but it seems to work well enough on all the metal I've tried it on."
Tonks nodded absentmindedly, and I subtly moved in front of the open tome I'd gotten the spell from. Most of the magic was okay, but there were a few spells that I suspect the Ministry wouldn't approve of. Plus, I didn't want to answer any questions about where I'd gotten it from.
"I have to ask," Tonks said eventually. "Why are you so relaxed with your exams coming up? Most people are cramming for their end-of-year tests, but you're playing with new spells. I know you're not exactly doing O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s, but normally firsties are a bit more panicked than you are. Heck, I remember Cedric was absolutely frantic last year for his finals."
"I feel pretty confident," I said lightly, which was true. My spell-work was spot on, and I knew everything I needed to know for the essays. Plus, I wasn't too worried about following the curriculum.
After all, a certain pact with an eldritch being meant that I wouldn't even get the chance to finish my schooling at Hogwarts.
"In the practicals, I can understand," Tonks scoffed. "I'm scared you'll give the Professors a heart attack when you turn a splinter into a great-sword or overpower your lumos or something. But, I haven't even seen you touch a quill. How are you with the theoretical side of things? On the essay writing?"
"I'm good," I said.
Tonks gave me a long, contemplative look, before shaking her head.
"Okay then," she said, glancing in disdain at the books piled around her. "I'll let you get back to your thing."
Staring at the cauldron, I stared at the smouldering metal. I felt a little bit ashamed about turning away Tonk's small offer of help, even if it was an excuse to put off her own work.
"Do yous know any more spells? Master Le Fay?" Glirus asked before I could get too angsty. "Or are yous done for today?"
"I'm done," I said softly.
Maybe it was best if I did a little bit of a swotting for the written exams after all.
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Odd1todd89
The strange tightrope
- Pronouns
- It
Thank you for another awesome chapter
Stress, tests, and a Vampire encounter.
Waiting to be let into the classroom for the first exam, I saw I wasn't the only one to feel trepidation. There was no talking or joking as we sat down, just the frantic muttering of stressed children or the stony silence of acceptance.
By the end of the written portion of the exam, I felt despondent. My wrist felt sore from the anticheating quill, which was a tad too long, and I was positive that the resulting blobs and streaks of ink would get me marked down.
The essays continued in much the same vein, yet somehow, the practicals were more stressful, though they had no reason to be, and waiting to be called into the stuffy classroom for my turn was like waiting for the gallows.
Overall, I think I achieved a passable score, or at least managed not to flunk. With the Transfiguration test, I had some difficulty changing the mouse into a snuff box when it tried to run away halfway through the transformation, but I made up for that mistake with charms, where I made my pineapple do an Irish dance in addition to the tap-dance much to the delight of Professor Flitwick.
In the kitchens, after the last nerve-wracking test with Snape, I took the chance to relax and load up on comfort food from the elves. The seventh years still had their exams, so I was all alone to enjoy a pint of butterbeer while the house-elves rushed around, preparing that night's dinner.
"You's did good?" one of the kitchen hands asked worriedly as he slid over the fifth mug.
I glanced at him tiredly, opting not to answer. I was hamming my weariness up a bit, but I still felt tired. The stress and the exhaustion from late-night cramming sessions had taken a bit out of me.
"Master Le Fay," Gliris chirped, popping out of nowhere next to me. "You's have a Professor asking for you's."
"Who is it?" I asked warily.
"It's Professor Trocar, master Le Fay. He's wanting to meet you in his office."
I nodded absentmindedly even as the hairs on the nape of my neck stood on end. There was no way in hell that I was going to be caught dead alone with Trocar. The last thing I needed was an end-of-year vampire attack.
Despite my resolution, as the afternoon wore on, I felt more and more on edge.
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Around six, the matron elf found time to chase me out of the kitchens with a wooden spoon, and I made my way through the winding underbelly of the school, towards the Great Hall.
I had just reached the staircase leading to the ground floor when I sensed a presence behind me. Wheeling around, I saw him.
Professor Trocar was wreathed in his trademark black cloak. Face as cold and unreadable as a statue.
"I requested you meet me in my office," he stated softly. "Didn't your parents teach you not to leave people waiting?"
I tried to school my face, but his cold smile told me he knew exactly how scared I was.
"It was smart of you to seek the safety of the kitchen," he said. "That is one of the few places I cannot go. Even now, you reek of the substance."
Garlic! Puck damn it, how the hell did I forget to grab garlic‽
"Oh, come now," Trocar crooned, probably mistaking my mental anguish for something else entirely. "Surely you've heard the rumours? You must know what I am by now."
"A vampire," I whispered.
"Correct." Trocar bent forward until his face was inches from mine. I should have felt his breath, or warmth, but he was cold as the grave. "Us vampires have always been seen as evil," he hummed. "It is true we all have an affinity for black magic, but calm yourself. I'm not going to hurt you."
Trocar's toothy grin did not put me at ease.
"I see greatness in you, Good Neighbour" he said softly, looming over me. "And I hope to foster that greatness into something legendary. Just as Melis the Greek taught Dracula, I offer my tutorage to you."
I cringed. There was so much to unpack in that single sentence.
The comparison to Dracula had me worried. Vlad the Impaler, in this world, was the first true vampire and a dark wizard akin to Ekrizdis or Koschei. He was the one who destroyed Solomonărie, the wizarding school of the Balkans, and drove back the Ottomans from Europe.
I couldn't understand why Trocar thought I'd live up to the first Vampire's reputation.
Focusing on the most innocuous thing I could find in that statement, I asked; "Good neighbour?"
"You don't know?" Trocar asked. "You don't know about the prophecy?"
A jolt of fear ran through me. The prophecy.
Good neighbour… It was a euphemism to refer to fairy-folk.
Trocar watched me for a long moment before backing away, nose scrunched in disgust.
"You reek of garlic boy."
The non sequitur caught me off guard, and as Trocar turned away, I stared at his back with uncertainty.
"I believe you are the prophesied 'Les fileur de destin,'" he said over his shoulder. "At the sorting, I felt a stirring in magic, something I thought nothing of at the time, but, over the course of this year, I've sensed a change in you. It is as if you were a hollow shell, newly filled with the spark of life. A spark that has only recently coalesced into a proper soul."
Fuck. Fuck my life, Fuck Murphy, and Fuck the ROB who dropped me in this dimension.
"How did you find out‽" I demanded. "How did you find out about the prophecy‽"
Trocar grinned at me, showing his fangs.
"That is something we can discuss in years to come," he said smoothly. "But now, I must be gone. Stay safe Le Fay, for it may very well be years before we reacquaint. But we will meet again."
Staring at the vampire as he disappeared into the darkness, I felt chills.
Things just got a hell of a lot more complicated.
By the end of the written portion of the exam, I felt despondent. My wrist felt sore from the anticheating quill, which was a tad too long, and I was positive that the resulting blobs and streaks of ink would get me marked down.
The essays continued in much the same vein, yet somehow, the practicals were more stressful, though they had no reason to be, and waiting to be called into the stuffy classroom for my turn was like waiting for the gallows.
Overall, I think I achieved a passable score, or at least managed not to flunk. With the Transfiguration test, I had some difficulty changing the mouse into a snuff box when it tried to run away halfway through the transformation, but I made up for that mistake with charms, where I made my pineapple do an Irish dance in addition to the tap-dance much to the delight of Professor Flitwick.
In the kitchens, after the last nerve-wracking test with Snape, I took the chance to relax and load up on comfort food from the elves. The seventh years still had their exams, so I was all alone to enjoy a pint of butterbeer while the house-elves rushed around, preparing that night's dinner.
"You's did good?" one of the kitchen hands asked worriedly as he slid over the fifth mug.
I glanced at him tiredly, opting not to answer. I was hamming my weariness up a bit, but I still felt tired. The stress and the exhaustion from late-night cramming sessions had taken a bit out of me.
"Master Le Fay," Gliris chirped, popping out of nowhere next to me. "You's have a Professor asking for you's."
"Who is it?" I asked warily.
"It's Professor Trocar, master Le Fay. He's wanting to meet you in his office."
I nodded absentmindedly even as the hairs on the nape of my neck stood on end. There was no way in hell that I was going to be caught dead alone with Trocar. The last thing I needed was an end-of-year vampire attack.
Despite my resolution, as the afternoon wore on, I felt more and more on edge.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Around six, the matron elf found time to chase me out of the kitchens with a wooden spoon, and I made my way through the winding underbelly of the school, towards the Great Hall.
I had just reached the staircase leading to the ground floor when I sensed a presence behind me. Wheeling around, I saw him.
Professor Trocar was wreathed in his trademark black cloak. Face as cold and unreadable as a statue.
"I requested you meet me in my office," he stated softly. "Didn't your parents teach you not to leave people waiting?"
I tried to school my face, but his cold smile told me he knew exactly how scared I was.
"It was smart of you to seek the safety of the kitchen," he said. "That is one of the few places I cannot go. Even now, you reek of the substance."
Garlic! Puck damn it, how the hell did I forget to grab garlic‽
"Oh, come now," Trocar crooned, probably mistaking my mental anguish for something else entirely. "Surely you've heard the rumours? You must know what I am by now."
"A vampire," I whispered.
"Correct." Trocar bent forward until his face was inches from mine. I should have felt his breath, or warmth, but he was cold as the grave. "Us vampires have always been seen as evil," he hummed. "It is true we all have an affinity for black magic, but calm yourself. I'm not going to hurt you."
Trocar's toothy grin did not put me at ease.
"I see greatness in you, Good Neighbour" he said softly, looming over me. "And I hope to foster that greatness into something legendary. Just as Melis the Greek taught Dracula, I offer my tutorage to you."
I cringed. There was so much to unpack in that single sentence.
The comparison to Dracula had me worried. Vlad the Impaler, in this world, was the first true vampire and a dark wizard akin to Ekrizdis or Koschei. He was the one who destroyed Solomonărie, the wizarding school of the Balkans, and drove back the Ottomans from Europe.
I couldn't understand why Trocar thought I'd live up to the first Vampire's reputation.
Focusing on the most innocuous thing I could find in that statement, I asked; "Good neighbour?"
"You don't know?" Trocar asked. "You don't know about the prophecy?"
A jolt of fear ran through me. The prophecy.
Good neighbour… It was a euphemism to refer to fairy-folk.
Trocar watched me for a long moment before backing away, nose scrunched in disgust.
"You reek of garlic boy."
The non sequitur caught me off guard, and as Trocar turned away, I stared at his back with uncertainty.
"I believe you are the prophesied 'Les fileur de destin,'" he said over his shoulder. "At the sorting, I felt a stirring in magic, something I thought nothing of at the time, but, over the course of this year, I've sensed a change in you. It is as if you were a hollow shell, newly filled with the spark of life. A spark that has only recently coalesced into a proper soul."
Fuck. Fuck my life, Fuck Murphy, and Fuck the ROB who dropped me in this dimension.
"How did you find out‽" I demanded. "How did you find out about the prophecy‽"
Trocar grinned at me, showing his fangs.
"That is something we can discuss in years to come," he said smoothly. "But now, I must be gone. Stay safe Le Fay, for it may very well be years before we reacquaint. But we will meet again."
Staring at the vampire as he disappeared into the darkness, I felt chills.
Things just got a hell of a lot more complicated.
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The train ride home
There was no announcement from the staff to explain Trocar's absence, but with his non-attendance of the End-of-Term Feast, rumours overtook the school.
Standing at the Hogsmeade station, waiting to board, I the overheard some truely wild rumours about Trocar's disappearance. Some Ravenclaw girls whispered that he was driven out by vampire hunters, while a Gryffindor fifth year loudly claimed Snape had trapped him in the dungeons out of jealousy for copying his style.
I didn't add to the rumour mill, but I had my own theory that he'd simply walked away. To me, Trocar seemed like the sort that would just slip off into the night once his business was complete.
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On the train ride back to London, I holed up in a compartment with Tonks and Charlie, listening as the two of them chattered away, arguing about tests, reliving Hogwarts memories with melancholy, and discussing future plans.
"I can't wait," Charlie said breathlessly. "I mean, I'm finally going to be able to work with dragons! Professor McGonagall helped me get scholarships from both the Snowdon Reserve and the Romanian Sanctuary!"
"Which one are you thinking of going with?" I asked. I already knowing the answer, but it was nice to see him so impassioned.
"The Romanian Sanctuary," Charlie said instantly. "I've been to the Snowdon Reserve, and it's great, but they've only got a pride of Welsh Green, and a few Ruddy Pyrrex. The Romanian Sanctuary, meanwhile, has dragons from all over Europe!"
"You and your dragons!" Tonks laughed. Turning to me, she whispered; "he's actually going with the Romanian option to get away from his mum!"
"Tonks! Carnac doesn't need to know that!" Charlie said, having the sense to look abashed. "And what about you? You said that you were becoming-"
"-I'm becoming an Auror!" Tonks spoke over him, glaring daggers. "Because I want to make a difference!"
"You told me you-" Charlie was cut off as Tonks struck him with a silencing charm. Turning to me, she smiled sweetly.
"Do you have anything to add?"
I held up my hands in surrender, shaking my head.
"Good!" she said, hitting Charlie with the counterspell. "Now, does anyone know what happened to-"
"Hey guys," Cedric said, stepping into the compartment. "What did I miss?"
"Oh, nothing," Tonks said, grinning. "We were just talking about you. Carnac was saying he saw you with a girl!"
"I did not!" I denied with an eye roll. "We were talking about what these two are doing after Hogwarts."
"Cool," Cedric said, taking a seat. "By the way Charlie, I ran into Oliver Wood on the way here. He's searching for you."
Charlie paled. "You didn't tell him where I am?" he asked.
"The Twins seemed to be doing a good enough job distracting him," Cedric replied, with a grin. "They were asking him about his thoughts on last summer's Quidditch World Cup."
"Good," Charlie said, sounding relieved. "That should keep him busy. When school started, all he talked about was the Scottish defeat against Canada. I hope the Twins are ready for a rant."
"Why are you even hiding from Wood?" I asked. "Isn't he one of your friends?"
Tonks began laughing and Charlie elbowed her in the ribs before turning to me.
"Wood's been trying to tear me a new one ever since I said I was going to go into dragon keeping instead of Quidditch-"
"-You should have heard him Carnac!" Tonk's gasped. "He walked right up to poor Charlie in the Entry Hall and laid into him in front of everyone!"
"He thinks I should play Professionally," Charlie grimaced, shaking his head. "Too much stress for too little reward. I think I'll leave that up to the Twins or Ron. They've got more passion for Quidditch than me."
Cedric rolled his eyes and Tonks mouthed 'He's crazy,' while pointing a thumb at Charlie.
"I'm not crazy!" Charlie objected, "I just can't see myself doing it professionally."
"But Charlie, think of the money!" Cedric said, joining in banter.
Charlie scoffed derisively, leaning back and closing his eyes. A comfortable silence settled over the train compartment as Tonks began twirling her wand and Cedric stuck his nose in a book, and I began to mull over my meeting with Trocar.
I'm not ashamed to say, my encounter with the vampire had rattled me. I mean, here was a who-knows-how-old bloodsucker, saying he'd like to teach me like Melis the Greek taught Dracula, all because of a prophecy.
Thinking over the prophecy, I was of two minds.
Firstly, I didn't even know the whole prophecy, and the lines I did know were vague. For one, there are hundreds of Le Fay, half-fairies, and even a few full-blooded fairies the 'good neighbour' title could refer to, and that's assuming it even refers to a fairy at all.
The 'Les fileuses de destiny' part is even less clear and could refer to the individual literally becoming someone who shapes fate, (which is heavy magic that hasn't been seen for thousands of years) to them being the beginning of a new bloodline of prophets.
Despite all that uncertainty, I have my own private theory. Something that makes me think that maybe, just maybe, the prophecy refers to me after all.
Prophecies, in general, are unavoidable. If you try and change them, you end up making them come true, and that seemed especially true in the canon, where not even time-travel could change events. But here, I'm an unexpected variable. I wasn't in the Harry Potter series, and theoretically, as an outsider, I can muck with events and change the future. Puck knows I'm going to try.
Maybe the 'weaver of fate' title is just magic's way of trying to get a handle on the situation by recognising my ability to change things.
I don't know for certain, but if that's the case, then were there past 'Les fileur de destiny' like me? Food for thought.
Anyway, I'm not too bothered with the prophecy. Either I can't change it, or it's not definite, so not worth the worry. What I am concerned about is the attention it'll get me.
Trocar already knows, and that's one person too many. If Dumbledore or, Merlin forgive, Voldemort finds out, my arse is grass.
"Hey, Carnac," Charlie asked. "You all right?"
"I'm fine," I told him, pushing aside my worries. I'd have time to dwell on them over the Summer. Until then, I'd enjoy the remaining time I had with my friends to the fullest.
Standing at the Hogsmeade station, waiting to board, I the overheard some truely wild rumours about Trocar's disappearance. Some Ravenclaw girls whispered that he was driven out by vampire hunters, while a Gryffindor fifth year loudly claimed Snape had trapped him in the dungeons out of jealousy for copying his style.
I didn't add to the rumour mill, but I had my own theory that he'd simply walked away. To me, Trocar seemed like the sort that would just slip off into the night once his business was complete.
----------------------------------------------------------------
On the train ride back to London, I holed up in a compartment with Tonks and Charlie, listening as the two of them chattered away, arguing about tests, reliving Hogwarts memories with melancholy, and discussing future plans.
"I can't wait," Charlie said breathlessly. "I mean, I'm finally going to be able to work with dragons! Professor McGonagall helped me get scholarships from both the Snowdon Reserve and the Romanian Sanctuary!"
"Which one are you thinking of going with?" I asked. I already knowing the answer, but it was nice to see him so impassioned.
"The Romanian Sanctuary," Charlie said instantly. "I've been to the Snowdon Reserve, and it's great, but they've only got a pride of Welsh Green, and a few Ruddy Pyrrex. The Romanian Sanctuary, meanwhile, has dragons from all over Europe!"
"You and your dragons!" Tonks laughed. Turning to me, she whispered; "he's actually going with the Romanian option to get away from his mum!"
"Tonks! Carnac doesn't need to know that!" Charlie said, having the sense to look abashed. "And what about you? You said that you were becoming-"
"-I'm becoming an Auror!" Tonks spoke over him, glaring daggers. "Because I want to make a difference!"
"You told me you-" Charlie was cut off as Tonks struck him with a silencing charm. Turning to me, she smiled sweetly.
"Do you have anything to add?"
I held up my hands in surrender, shaking my head.
"Good!" she said, hitting Charlie with the counterspell. "Now, does anyone know what happened to-"
"Hey guys," Cedric said, stepping into the compartment. "What did I miss?"
"Oh, nothing," Tonks said, grinning. "We were just talking about you. Carnac was saying he saw you with a girl!"
"I did not!" I denied with an eye roll. "We were talking about what these two are doing after Hogwarts."
"Cool," Cedric said, taking a seat. "By the way Charlie, I ran into Oliver Wood on the way here. He's searching for you."
Charlie paled. "You didn't tell him where I am?" he asked.
"The Twins seemed to be doing a good enough job distracting him," Cedric replied, with a grin. "They were asking him about his thoughts on last summer's Quidditch World Cup."
"Good," Charlie said, sounding relieved. "That should keep him busy. When school started, all he talked about was the Scottish defeat against Canada. I hope the Twins are ready for a rant."
"Why are you even hiding from Wood?" I asked. "Isn't he one of your friends?"
Tonks began laughing and Charlie elbowed her in the ribs before turning to me.
"Wood's been trying to tear me a new one ever since I said I was going to go into dragon keeping instead of Quidditch-"
"-You should have heard him Carnac!" Tonk's gasped. "He walked right up to poor Charlie in the Entry Hall and laid into him in front of everyone!"
"He thinks I should play Professionally," Charlie grimaced, shaking his head. "Too much stress for too little reward. I think I'll leave that up to the Twins or Ron. They've got more passion for Quidditch than me."
Cedric rolled his eyes and Tonks mouthed 'He's crazy,' while pointing a thumb at Charlie.
"I'm not crazy!" Charlie objected, "I just can't see myself doing it professionally."
"But Charlie, think of the money!" Cedric said, joining in banter.
Charlie scoffed derisively, leaning back and closing his eyes. A comfortable silence settled over the train compartment as Tonks began twirling her wand and Cedric stuck his nose in a book, and I began to mull over my meeting with Trocar.
I'm not ashamed to say, my encounter with the vampire had rattled me. I mean, here was a who-knows-how-old bloodsucker, saying he'd like to teach me like Melis the Greek taught Dracula, all because of a prophecy.
Thinking over the prophecy, I was of two minds.
Firstly, I didn't even know the whole prophecy, and the lines I did know were vague. For one, there are hundreds of Le Fay, half-fairies, and even a few full-blooded fairies the 'good neighbour' title could refer to, and that's assuming it even refers to a fairy at all.
The 'Les fileuses de destiny' part is even less clear and could refer to the individual literally becoming someone who shapes fate, (which is heavy magic that hasn't been seen for thousands of years) to them being the beginning of a new bloodline of prophets.
Despite all that uncertainty, I have my own private theory. Something that makes me think that maybe, just maybe, the prophecy refers to me after all.
Prophecies, in general, are unavoidable. If you try and change them, you end up making them come true, and that seemed especially true in the canon, where not even time-travel could change events. But here, I'm an unexpected variable. I wasn't in the Harry Potter series, and theoretically, as an outsider, I can muck with events and change the future. Puck knows I'm going to try.
Maybe the 'weaver of fate' title is just magic's way of trying to get a handle on the situation by recognising my ability to change things.
I don't know for certain, but if that's the case, then were there past 'Les fileur de destiny' like me? Food for thought.
Anyway, I'm not too bothered with the prophecy. Either I can't change it, or it's not definite, so not worth the worry. What I am concerned about is the attention it'll get me.
Trocar already knows, and that's one person too many. If Dumbledore or, Merlin forgive, Voldemort finds out, my arse is grass.
"Hey, Carnac," Charlie asked. "You all right?"
"I'm fine," I told him, pushing aside my worries. I'd have time to dwell on them over the Summer. Until then, I'd enjoy the remaining time I had with my friends to the fullest.
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Dumbledore's thoughts
Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore watched the Hogwarts Express depart from Hogsmeade pensively.
Much had occurred over the past year that had demanded his attention, ranging from the young Weasley Twin's rather amusing pranks, to assisting the Deutsches Zaubereiministerium while they helped smooth over the reunification of East and West Germany.
Unfortunately, the thing that occupied his thoughts was much more serious and much closer to home. Professor Trocar was on his mind, and for the first time that year, it was not because of the man's vampiric afflictions.
When Eldred Worple, one of Horace Slughorn's old students, had recommended the vampire, Albus had been apprehensive. Vampires, after all, had a notoriety for being dark creatures.
Then again, Albus wasn't one to judge people by stereotypes.
Minerva had been apoplectic when she'd found out, slipping into Scottish brogue so thick, Albus had had trouble understanding her. Regrettably, by that point, it was too late as the contract was signed, and the matter had been laid to rest.
Despite what Minerva's off-colour remarks about senility may have suggested, Albus wasn't stupid. Kooky, perhaps, and most certainly eccentric, but not stupid.
Whenever Trocar had left his chambers, he'd been under constant surveillance from the portraits and suits of armour. An ingenious idea, Albus had thought at the time, as no one paid the paintings in Hogwarts any notice.
For a time, Albus had been content, and fortunately, Professor Trocar hadn't bitten anyone, nor had he seemed interested in anything beyond his teaching and more… esoteric studies. Unfortunately, he'd drawn something to Albus's attention. Carnac Le Fay; the possible 'Les fileur de destin,' and a hope for defeating Tom.
Albus sighed, watching the wisp of steam from the Hogwarts Express vanish among the hills before turning back to his office, full of silvery nicknacks and his old phoenix, Fawkes.
It was unfortunate because, while he could utilise young Carnac, and spare Harry Potter the dark fate that awaited him, it would come at a cost. One child's innocence for another.
Seating himself, Albus Dumbledore steepled his fingers, deep in thought.
He'd need to think on this deeply.
Much had occurred over the past year that had demanded his attention, ranging from the young Weasley Twin's rather amusing pranks, to assisting the Deutsches Zaubereiministerium while they helped smooth over the reunification of East and West Germany.
Unfortunately, the thing that occupied his thoughts was much more serious and much closer to home. Professor Trocar was on his mind, and for the first time that year, it was not because of the man's vampiric afflictions.
When Eldred Worple, one of Horace Slughorn's old students, had recommended the vampire, Albus had been apprehensive. Vampires, after all, had a notoriety for being dark creatures.
Then again, Albus wasn't one to judge people by stereotypes.
Minerva had been apoplectic when she'd found out, slipping into Scottish brogue so thick, Albus had had trouble understanding her. Regrettably, by that point, it was too late as the contract was signed, and the matter had been laid to rest.
Despite what Minerva's off-colour remarks about senility may have suggested, Albus wasn't stupid. Kooky, perhaps, and most certainly eccentric, but not stupid.
Whenever Trocar had left his chambers, he'd been under constant surveillance from the portraits and suits of armour. An ingenious idea, Albus had thought at the time, as no one paid the paintings in Hogwarts any notice.
For a time, Albus had been content, and fortunately, Professor Trocar hadn't bitten anyone, nor had he seemed interested in anything beyond his teaching and more… esoteric studies. Unfortunately, he'd drawn something to Albus's attention. Carnac Le Fay; the possible 'Les fileur de destin,' and a hope for defeating Tom.
Albus sighed, watching the wisp of steam from the Hogwarts Express vanish among the hills before turning back to his office, full of silvery nicknacks and his old phoenix, Fawkes.
It was unfortunate because, while he could utilise young Carnac, and spare Harry Potter the dark fate that awaited him, it would come at a cost. One child's innocence for another.
Seating himself, Albus Dumbledore steepled his fingers, deep in thought.
He'd need to think on this deeply.
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Good neighbor might refer to him as an outsider with good intentions as well, right?
The fairy ring
It's a bit rough, but it'll do.
----------------------------------------------------------------
The sun was bright and the sea breeze mild as I sat on a rock overlooking the English Channel.
Behind me, I felt magic in the air, a slight feeling at the very edge of my senses, like a faint hum or the taste of ozone. Breathing in deeply, I took in the heat of the sun and the tang of salt in the air, all emphasised and intensified by the magic.
The Pleinmont fairy ring, otherwise known as the Table des Pions, is one of my favourite spots on the island of Gurnsey. It doesn't look like much, just a shallow circular trench, surrounded by a ring of stones, but despite its lacklustre appearance, its magic is intertwined with the Island.
"Bloody wind!"
Glancing back, I saw my brother, Giles, in the center of the circle, struggling to control a small stack of parchment in the sudden breeze. We were out here to read over each other's homework, looking for errors and mistakes, but apparently, I'd gotten lost in the magic of the fairy ring.
"Rigidum!" Giles said with a growl. Instantly, the piece of parchment became stiff, almost board-like. "That works," he said, stowing away his wand. "Hey Carnac, if you're having trouble with the wind, I can sort out your parchments!"
"I'm good," I called back. The other reason we were out here was because the natural magic of the area made it impossible for the Trace to detect when we were using our wands.
One of the many benefits of living on an island packed with magical sites.
Leaning back, I basked in the magic, allowing my mind to wander.
There was so much going on. So much to think about; school, a prophecy, a vampire taking interest in me, and beyond all that, the reason I was here; because a ROB made me an offer.
I am Carnac Le Fay for all intents and purposes. I have all his memories, all his connections, and some semblance of his hopes and dreams, yet I only have four and a bit years left on this earth. After the ROB takes me away, what will happen? Will some variation of me be left behind, never knowing if the ROB kept his side of the deal or not? Will the added personality be stripped away, leaving the original Carnac to deal with my mistakes?
"Carnac, what do you think?"
Blinking, I glanced at my brother as he stared at me expectantly.
"Sorry… What?"
Giles sighed.
"For the third time," he said, "what do you think of my essay? Does it seem too wordy to you?"
I looked down at the Transfiguration essay I'd been reading before I'd slipped off into dreamland.
"Sorry Giles," I said, nudging the parchment reluctantly, "I was away with the fairies."
Groaning dramatically, Giles set aside another one of the board-like parchment he'd been reading over.
"Please Carnac, I need all the help that I can get. Professor Chapdelaine is after my head, and if my summer homework isn't perfect, she'll have it!"
"Sorry," I muttered again, staring at the essay blankly, "You know Transfiguration isn't one of my strong points."
"You just get hung up on the process itself," Giles said offhandedly. You're perfectly fine at understanding the theory, which is what I need you to do."
"It's just that I've had a lot on my mind lately," I admitted.
Giles watched me closely as I tried to read over the parchment. Truth be told, I did have a lot to think about beyond ROBs and self-insertion. I was going to have a Dark Lord for a teacher this year after all.
I'd double-checked the staff roster, and it was looking more and more likely that this wasn't some fanon universe, so I was pretty sure that Quirrel's still the one playing sock-puppet to Tommy-no-nose.
"If you need someone to talk to," Giles said, picking up the next parchment, "then I'm all ears."
"I know Giles," I muttered, focusing on his Transfiguration essay, "but I'm pretty sure it's stuff I need to work through on my own."
----------------------------------------------------------------
The sun was bright and the sea breeze mild as I sat on a rock overlooking the English Channel.
Behind me, I felt magic in the air, a slight feeling at the very edge of my senses, like a faint hum or the taste of ozone. Breathing in deeply, I took in the heat of the sun and the tang of salt in the air, all emphasised and intensified by the magic.
The Pleinmont fairy ring, otherwise known as the Table des Pions, is one of my favourite spots on the island of Gurnsey. It doesn't look like much, just a shallow circular trench, surrounded by a ring of stones, but despite its lacklustre appearance, its magic is intertwined with the Island.
"Bloody wind!"
Glancing back, I saw my brother, Giles, in the center of the circle, struggling to control a small stack of parchment in the sudden breeze. We were out here to read over each other's homework, looking for errors and mistakes, but apparently, I'd gotten lost in the magic of the fairy ring.
"Rigidum!" Giles said with a growl. Instantly, the piece of parchment became stiff, almost board-like. "That works," he said, stowing away his wand. "Hey Carnac, if you're having trouble with the wind, I can sort out your parchments!"
"I'm good," I called back. The other reason we were out here was because the natural magic of the area made it impossible for the Trace to detect when we were using our wands.
One of the many benefits of living on an island packed with magical sites.
Leaning back, I basked in the magic, allowing my mind to wander.
There was so much going on. So much to think about; school, a prophecy, a vampire taking interest in me, and beyond all that, the reason I was here; because a ROB made me an offer.
I am Carnac Le Fay for all intents and purposes. I have all his memories, all his connections, and some semblance of his hopes and dreams, yet I only have four and a bit years left on this earth. After the ROB takes me away, what will happen? Will some variation of me be left behind, never knowing if the ROB kept his side of the deal or not? Will the added personality be stripped away, leaving the original Carnac to deal with my mistakes?
"Carnac, what do you think?"
Blinking, I glanced at my brother as he stared at me expectantly.
"Sorry… What?"
Giles sighed.
"For the third time," he said, "what do you think of my essay? Does it seem too wordy to you?"
I looked down at the Transfiguration essay I'd been reading before I'd slipped off into dreamland.
"Sorry Giles," I said, nudging the parchment reluctantly, "I was away with the fairies."
Groaning dramatically, Giles set aside another one of the board-like parchment he'd been reading over.
"Please Carnac, I need all the help that I can get. Professor Chapdelaine is after my head, and if my summer homework isn't perfect, she'll have it!"
"Sorry," I muttered again, staring at the essay blankly, "You know Transfiguration isn't one of my strong points."
"You just get hung up on the process itself," Giles said offhandedly. You're perfectly fine at understanding the theory, which is what I need you to do."
"It's just that I've had a lot on my mind lately," I admitted.
Giles watched me closely as I tried to read over the parchment. Truth be told, I did have a lot to think about beyond ROBs and self-insertion. I was going to have a Dark Lord for a teacher this year after all.
I'd double-checked the staff roster, and it was looking more and more likely that this wasn't some fanon universe, so I was pretty sure that Quirrel's still the one playing sock-puppet to Tommy-no-nose.
"If you need someone to talk to," Giles said, picking up the next parchment, "then I'm all ears."
"I know Giles," I muttered, focusing on his Transfiguration essay, "but I'm pretty sure it's stuff I need to work through on my own."
And thus canon began...
It's mostly filler, but hopefully it's quality enough for you all.
----------------------------------------------------------------
September the first found me on the magical side of platform nine and three quarters, jostling my way towards the Hogwarts Express.
"Mum! Mum! I just saw Harry Potter!"
Scowling, I glanced back at the little kid who was insistently tugging on his mum's robes. I'd hoped to encounter the-boy-who-lived before he got swept up with the Weasleys.
Unfortunately, I'd misjudged the time and here I was; too early to meet Harry Potter and too late to get a good seat on the train.
"I heard he was in Diagon Alley yesterday," I overheard a nearby Ravenclaw gossip with her friend as I tried to push my way down the hallway of the train carriage. "Witch Weekly said he was seen at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor."
"No way!" Ravenclaw's friend gasped. "Are they sure it was him?"
"Yup," Ravenclaw said happily. "They reckon he was wearing a wig to hide his scar."
Rolling my eyes, I lugged my trunk past. Honestly, the rumours I'd heard about Harry were even more farfetched than the gossip about Trocar's disappearance last year.
I knew Harry Potter was a big deal in Wizarding Britain, but the way some people talked about him, you'd think he took down Voldemort with the elder wand clenched in one pudgy hand and Excalibur in the other.
And to think the kid's going to have to deal with all the hearsay on top of fighting Snake-face McGee.
Good luck Harry. You're gonna need it.
Thankfully, I found a cabin with some of my classmates and managed to turn the conversation away from the-boy-who-lived before the stories could get too farfetched. Now, I just had to survive the train ride of rowdy children high on sugar and adrenalin asking about my holidays.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Hermione and Neville didn't show up searching for the toad for some reason, and I was still dwelling on that curious change from canon by the time we got to Hogsmeade Station, although I wasn't too distracted to forget the thestrils.
My school-mates were all weirded out when I began patting the empty air in front of the carriage, but as soon as they realised there was actually something there, they were clambering all around the invisible skeletal horses, asking older students if they knew what was pulling the carriages.
I used the distraction to find an empty carriage, although I was still joined by some older Gryffindors, who spent the entire ride up to Hogwarts theorising about the unseen boney ponies.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Waiting for the sorting ceremony to start, I wondered if it would comply with canon, and as the firsties trooped through the centre of the Great Hall, towards the professor's table, I watched with bated breath, trying to pick out Harry Potter from among the faces.
I didn't think the boy with glasses was him until McGonagall called him forward, and he definitely didn't look like what I expected. He had scruffy hair and round glasses, sure, and he was a bit on the scrawny side, but he seemed so underwhelmingly normal. For some reason, I'd expected the main protagonist of an entire franchise to appear more… unique.
I guess I'd just built him up in my head. Listening to my housemates talk about him as if he took down Voldemort in a wizarding duel, I realised how stupid I'd been to expect more. I'd fallen for the same fallacy trap everyone else had, focusing on his title and reputation while ignoring the fact that Harry Potter is still a little eleven-year-old firstie.
I'll need to remember that.
I only half-listened to Dumbledore's announcement of certain death (that certainly stirred up a few whispers) and then it was off to bed. I needed to sleep and prepare for the year ahead.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Schoolwork quickly fell into a routine.
Herbology and History were meh, Astrology remains the bane of my existence and Potions a struggle.
I didn't know what to expect from Defence Against the Dark Arts, though, but somehow, despite arriving at the first class with an open mind (metaphorically, of course, I'm not giving Voldemort half the chance to mind-rape me) I was still surprised to find Quirrell awkwardly standing behind the desk, holding a rather annoyed looking iguana.
I think everyone was waiting for the punchline., but instead, we sat through an hour of stuttered gibbering about ways to ward off and redirect dark magic.
As the class concluded one brave soul, Cho Chang from Ravenclaw, asked the question on everyone's mind.
"Sir? Why do you have an iguana?"
"W-well, Uh…" Quirrell stuttered, looking like a deer in the headlights. "I-I-I w-was demonstrating how a familiar c-can be u-u-used to draw m-m-malicious m-magic away f-from oneself. D-did I not mention t-that at the beginning o-of class?"
"No sir," Cho replied.
Quirrell was still stuttering out his apologies as the class headed to herbology.
I'll give Quirrell props for his prize-winning acting. The only other option is to consider that he's incompetent, which is just sad.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Despite having small mountain of Homework to struggle through on Saturday, I happily put it aside for something much more important: the Room of Requirement.
Unfortunately, with Voldemort lurking around Hogwarts, I planned to avoid the Room. The last thing I wanted to do was run into the dark lord while he checked up on his tiara.
But before I went cold turkey, I needed to test something.
Pacing in front of the wall, I wished for a passage to the room at the end of the Philosopher's Stone gauntlet.
The door that showed up was black, with an iron doorknob. Peeping through it, all I saw was a stone room with a locked chest in the centre and a curtain of black flames flickering softly in front of the only other doorway.
Hastily, I shut the door, exhilarated. Dumbledore hadn't put the Mirror of Erised in! All that was keeping me from the stone was a booby trapped chest!
Grinning from ear to ear, I backed away from the door as it faded into the stone wall.
I had the cheat code for Hogwarts!
Now… homework.
----------------------------------------------------------------
September the first found me on the magical side of platform nine and three quarters, jostling my way towards the Hogwarts Express.
"Mum! Mum! I just saw Harry Potter!"
Scowling, I glanced back at the little kid who was insistently tugging on his mum's robes. I'd hoped to encounter the-boy-who-lived before he got swept up with the Weasleys.
Unfortunately, I'd misjudged the time and here I was; too early to meet Harry Potter and too late to get a good seat on the train.
"I heard he was in Diagon Alley yesterday," I overheard a nearby Ravenclaw gossip with her friend as I tried to push my way down the hallway of the train carriage. "Witch Weekly said he was seen at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor."
"No way!" Ravenclaw's friend gasped. "Are they sure it was him?"
"Yup," Ravenclaw said happily. "They reckon he was wearing a wig to hide his scar."
Rolling my eyes, I lugged my trunk past. Honestly, the rumours I'd heard about Harry were even more farfetched than the gossip about Trocar's disappearance last year.
I knew Harry Potter was a big deal in Wizarding Britain, but the way some people talked about him, you'd think he took down Voldemort with the elder wand clenched in one pudgy hand and Excalibur in the other.
And to think the kid's going to have to deal with all the hearsay on top of fighting Snake-face McGee.
Good luck Harry. You're gonna need it.
Thankfully, I found a cabin with some of my classmates and managed to turn the conversation away from the-boy-who-lived before the stories could get too farfetched. Now, I just had to survive the train ride of rowdy children high on sugar and adrenalin asking about my holidays.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Hermione and Neville didn't show up searching for the toad for some reason, and I was still dwelling on that curious change from canon by the time we got to Hogsmeade Station, although I wasn't too distracted to forget the thestrils.
My school-mates were all weirded out when I began patting the empty air in front of the carriage, but as soon as they realised there was actually something there, they were clambering all around the invisible skeletal horses, asking older students if they knew what was pulling the carriages.
I used the distraction to find an empty carriage, although I was still joined by some older Gryffindors, who spent the entire ride up to Hogwarts theorising about the unseen boney ponies.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Waiting for the sorting ceremony to start, I wondered if it would comply with canon, and as the firsties trooped through the centre of the Great Hall, towards the professor's table, I watched with bated breath, trying to pick out Harry Potter from among the faces.
I didn't think the boy with glasses was him until McGonagall called him forward, and he definitely didn't look like what I expected. He had scruffy hair and round glasses, sure, and he was a bit on the scrawny side, but he seemed so underwhelmingly normal. For some reason, I'd expected the main protagonist of an entire franchise to appear more… unique.
I guess I'd just built him up in my head. Listening to my housemates talk about him as if he took down Voldemort in a wizarding duel, I realised how stupid I'd been to expect more. I'd fallen for the same fallacy trap everyone else had, focusing on his title and reputation while ignoring the fact that Harry Potter is still a little eleven-year-old firstie.
I'll need to remember that.
I only half-listened to Dumbledore's announcement of certain death (that certainly stirred up a few whispers) and then it was off to bed. I needed to sleep and prepare for the year ahead.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Schoolwork quickly fell into a routine.
Herbology and History were meh, Astrology remains the bane of my existence and Potions a struggle.
I didn't know what to expect from Defence Against the Dark Arts, though, but somehow, despite arriving at the first class with an open mind (metaphorically, of course, I'm not giving Voldemort half the chance to mind-rape me) I was still surprised to find Quirrell awkwardly standing behind the desk, holding a rather annoyed looking iguana.
I think everyone was waiting for the punchline., but instead, we sat through an hour of stuttered gibbering about ways to ward off and redirect dark magic.
As the class concluded one brave soul, Cho Chang from Ravenclaw, asked the question on everyone's mind.
"Sir? Why do you have an iguana?"
"W-well, Uh…" Quirrell stuttered, looking like a deer in the headlights. "I-I-I w-was demonstrating how a familiar c-can be u-u-used to draw m-m-malicious m-magic away f-from oneself. D-did I not mention t-that at the beginning o-of class?"
"No sir," Cho replied.
Quirrell was still stuttering out his apologies as the class headed to herbology.
I'll give Quirrell props for his prize-winning acting. The only other option is to consider that he's incompetent, which is just sad.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Despite having small mountain of Homework to struggle through on Saturday, I happily put it aside for something much more important: the Room of Requirement.
Unfortunately, with Voldemort lurking around Hogwarts, I planned to avoid the Room. The last thing I wanted to do was run into the dark lord while he checked up on his tiara.
But before I went cold turkey, I needed to test something.
Pacing in front of the wall, I wished for a passage to the room at the end of the Philosopher's Stone gauntlet.
The door that showed up was black, with an iron doorknob. Peeping through it, all I saw was a stone room with a locked chest in the centre and a curtain of black flames flickering softly in front of the only other doorway.
Hastily, I shut the door, exhilarated. Dumbledore hadn't put the Mirror of Erised in! All that was keeping me from the stone was a booby trapped chest!
Grinning from ear to ear, I backed away from the door as it faded into the stone wall.
I had the cheat code for Hogwarts!
Now… homework.
As far as we know...
Nope. I was just trying come up with a reasonable explanation for the iguana scene in the Philosopher's stone movie.
Broovian
The Patriarch of Oblivion and all it contains.
- Location
- The cesspool of New York and Loving it!
I'm under fee understanding that fey and other otherworldly beings were given innocuous names because of the belief they'd raise hell, possibly literally, if you called them something they did not like.
Plot twist! That's a transfigured Nagini. And she's not happy!
Dealing with elves
It's a short one today unfortunately. All the same, enjoy.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Before that first weekend finished, I had one more task to complete.
The house-elves were happy to see me back in the kitchens, and Glirus seemed to be the most overjoyed.
"Master Le Fay!" he chirped, as the elves around me offered up platters of finger food, "You's getting skinny! We's need to be fattening you back up!"
"Calm down everyone," I said to the room in general before the elves could renew their efforts to shove food my way. "I'm sure I'll be back to normal after a few days of Hogwarts meals."
The attempts to sneak pumpkin pasties into my pockets abated slightly as the house-elves accepted the praise, and Glirus, thankfully, decided to switch to safer topics.
"Is you going to do more spells?"
"Next weekend," I admitted, "but I actually came down here for something else."
"You's needing help with something?" Glirus asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.
"Yeah," I said. "I need someone to keep an eye on Quirrell for me."
Glirus narrowed his eyes.
"Why's you want Professor Quirrell watched?" he asked suspiciously.
Wincing, I opened my mouth. Time to start bullshitting up a reason besides 'because he's possessed by Voldemort.'
"Well," I said slowly, "last year, the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor was a vampire-"
All the house-elves listening in gasped, sharing frightened glances. I soldiered on.
"-and I've heard the job is cursed. I'm just worried Quirrell is a zombie or something and was wondering if you could keep an eye on him."
Wow. That felt like a feeble excuse even to me. And I just made it up!
"He is been working here before!" one of the kitchen hands piped up, coming to the Professor's defence. "He was Muggle's Professor!"
"Muggle Studies," another house-elf corrected. "He's no zombie!"
"Or Vampire!" another elf added.
"Look," I said, trying to salvage the situation, "I've heard rumours. Quirrell spent all last year touring Morocco, Albania, and half the countries in between, studying dark magic. I'm a bit leery of him because of that alone, and with what happened last year, I'm not prepared to let him just wander around Hogwarts unwatched."
"What's happening last year?" a brave soul piped up.
"Last year," I said softly, "Trocar approached me just before the summer holidays. That's when I found out he was a vampire…"
The house-elves listened to my deception with wide eyes.
"I know you all know Quirrell from his time here before," I continued, "but to me, he's an unknown, and as I said, he's been all over the place studying dark magic. I'm just worried, and I don't want to be caught off guard like with Trocar."
All the elves were staring at me in complete silence. Finally, Glirus piped up.
"You's don't need to worry, Master Le Fay!" he said. "I can be watching Professor Quirrell as well as doing my duties!"
Thanks, Glirus, I said, giving him a small smile, and adamantly ignoring the feeling of guilt from my deception.
Despite that, I also felt relief.
Suck it Quirrell! Let's see you sneak around with a house-elf tailing you every step of the way.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Before that first weekend finished, I had one more task to complete.
The house-elves were happy to see me back in the kitchens, and Glirus seemed to be the most overjoyed.
"Master Le Fay!" he chirped, as the elves around me offered up platters of finger food, "You's getting skinny! We's need to be fattening you back up!"
"Calm down everyone," I said to the room in general before the elves could renew their efforts to shove food my way. "I'm sure I'll be back to normal after a few days of Hogwarts meals."
The attempts to sneak pumpkin pasties into my pockets abated slightly as the house-elves accepted the praise, and Glirus, thankfully, decided to switch to safer topics.
"Is you going to do more spells?"
"Next weekend," I admitted, "but I actually came down here for something else."
"You's needing help with something?" Glirus asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.
"Yeah," I said. "I need someone to keep an eye on Quirrell for me."
Glirus narrowed his eyes.
"Why's you want Professor Quirrell watched?" he asked suspiciously.
Wincing, I opened my mouth. Time to start bullshitting up a reason besides 'because he's possessed by Voldemort.'
"Well," I said slowly, "last year, the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor was a vampire-"
All the house-elves listening in gasped, sharing frightened glances. I soldiered on.
"-and I've heard the job is cursed. I'm just worried Quirrell is a zombie or something and was wondering if you could keep an eye on him."
Wow. That felt like a feeble excuse even to me. And I just made it up!
"He is been working here before!" one of the kitchen hands piped up, coming to the Professor's defence. "He was Muggle's Professor!"
"Muggle Studies," another house-elf corrected. "He's no zombie!"
"Or Vampire!" another elf added.
"Look," I said, trying to salvage the situation, "I've heard rumours. Quirrell spent all last year touring Morocco, Albania, and half the countries in between, studying dark magic. I'm a bit leery of him because of that alone, and with what happened last year, I'm not prepared to let him just wander around Hogwarts unwatched."
"What's happening last year?" a brave soul piped up.
"Last year," I said softly, "Trocar approached me just before the summer holidays. That's when I found out he was a vampire…"
The house-elves listened to my deception with wide eyes.
"I know you all know Quirrell from his time here before," I continued, "but to me, he's an unknown, and as I said, he's been all over the place studying dark magic. I'm just worried, and I don't want to be caught off guard like with Trocar."
All the elves were staring at me in complete silence. Finally, Glirus piped up.
"You's don't need to worry, Master Le Fay!" he said. "I can be watching Professor Quirrell as well as doing my duties!"
Thanks, Glirus, I said, giving him a small smile, and adamantly ignoring the feeling of guilt from my deception.
Despite that, I also felt relief.
Suck it Quirrell! Let's see you sneak around with a house-elf tailing you every step of the way.
I don't think I'll go too deeply into the stories behind the fey, such as the realm of Elfame and the relationship with the muggles beyond a few vague references, but then again, I'm going to be borrowing a lot from European folklore to build on the Harry Potter canon, so that may change.
We'll see.
- Location
- Earth
He cannot afford to not attend some things, otherwise, he will reveal himself. For example classes, meetings with other people, etc etc.
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Hermione Granger
I'm not entirely happy with this. Does Hermione's characterisation seem right?
----------------------------------------------------------------
The term continued smoothly enough. Harry becoming Seeker was the talk of the school for a while, and there were some rumours about Draco trying to challenge Harry to a midnight duel, but I made sure to stay well away from the-boy-who-lived.
The last thing I want is to be dragged into the chaos of his life.
Occasionally, whenever I knew Quirrell was trapped in an obligatory staff meeting, I managed to sneak away to the Room of Requirement. Unfortunately, those opportunities were few and far between, and the rest of the time, I had to content myself with reading over old books that I'd already liberated from the Room.
Almost before I knew it, it was Samhein.
At the beginning of the year, I was of two minds of how to handle Halloween and the events of canon in general. On one hand, I only had four years to go until the ROB spirited me away. I had no reason to get invested in events and was under no obligation to fight Tom the charlatan.
On the other hand, there was the butterfly effect to consider. I didn't know how my presence was changing events, and I distinctly recall that in the Halloween of Hermione's first year, the Troll was moments away from bashing her brains out. If Harry and Ron are just a minute slower, then I could say goodbye to the timeline and hello to the possibility of Quirrell getting the stone.
On the night before Halloween, I had finished my prepping.
Dumbledore and Snape received a few anonymous messages, warning of Quirrell and the possibility of a Troll in the Dungeons. Messages that I took great pains to make sure had no connections to me. To further cover my bases, I even charmed a bunch of letters with audible and seeking charms to pass on the same warnings to a few of the paintings and house-elves. I would have even brought some of the Hogwarts ghosts in on it as well, but they were all attending a party, so I had to make do with what I had.
I fully expected some of the recipients of my messages to ignore them as pranks, but with the house-elves and paintings at least, I knew they'd take it seriously.
That just left Hermione Granger.
I'd seen her around of course. The little firstie Gryffindor with the bushy hair and buck-teeth. Always by herself.
Just before the feast, I managed to slip away from my dorm mates with some rushed excuses about needing the bathroom, then began to wander around. I wasn't going to rely on the capabilities of Teachers or on firsties defeating a troll. I was going to do this myself.
Unfortunately, I didn't know which bathroom Hermione was hiding away in.
Hogwarts, on an average day, is a sprawling tangle of stone corridors and portrait-lined hallways and empty classrooms, and that's before you get into the shifting layout. It took me half an hour before, steeling myself I turned to the nearest painting.
"Excuse me," I asked a portrait of an old friar, "I heard some Gryffindors made a first-year girl cry and that she's in one of the first-floor bathrooms. Do you happen to know which one that is?"
"Certainly, young man," the friar said, straightening slightly and rubbing his chin. "Now… Sir Regenold did say he saw that event this afternoon… two Gryffindor boys. A boy with scruffy black hair and a redhead with freckles right?"
I nodded, waiting for the friar to get to the point.
"Well now," the friar said, leaning back, "Sir Regenold said that the girl… another Gryffindor with bushy hair? He said she headed down the east wing into the north corridor and went into the bathrooms near the entrance to the dungeons… I'm pretty sure Briary Longbottom mentioned that's the one Hufflepuffs use to get to potions class…"
"I know the one!" I said before the friar could carry on. "Thank you!"
"Don't mention it!" the friar called after me, "and if you need any more help, you know where I'm hung!"
Thankfully, I was quickly out of earshot. Portraits are useful, but they're just so chatty. And they seem to know everything about everyone's comings and goings.
It's a little creepy.
Thankfully, there was no troll at the bathroom doors when I arrived so, hurriedly, I knocked on wood.
"Hermione Granger‽" I half called, half whispered. "Are you in there‽"
She definitely was, as I heard her sobbing.
"Listen," I said, a little more loudly in case she hadn't heard, "are you okay?"
Stupid mouth! There's no time for small talk! I glanced at the stairwell to the dungeons. Still no troll.
Screw it, I'd try and get Hermione out of the bathrooms with a good old heart-to-heart talk. If the troll showed up, then I could drag her out. Or lure the smelly bastard away.
"Who… who's out there?" Hermione finally asked. At last! Some sort of acknowledgment of her hearing me!
"I'm Carnac. Carnac Le Fay. From Hufflepuff."
"Oh…"
Come on girl, give me something to work with.
"One of the portraits told me you were in here," I said, trying a different angle. "He said some of your classmates were bullying you."
"I'm fine!" Hermione announced. I could hear the quiver in her voice.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked.
Silence.
"I mean," I continued, "some people have it rough their first year here at Hogwarts. Just being so far from home and all that…"
More silence.
"It always helps to have someone to talk to," I prompted.
Even more silence.
I'd almost given up hope of getting Hermione to talk, resolving to instead wait for the troll, when…
"They don't like me."
It was quiet, almost a whisper, but I caught it.
"Who doesn't like you, Hermione?"
"My classmates," Hermione said a bit louder. "They're always talking about me behind my back. I've heard some of the kids from Slytherin calling me a know-it-all, and the girls in my dorm barely talk to me! And when I heard Ron and Harry… I try to talk to people, but they… they think I'm just…" she trailed off with a shaky breath.
Welp, that's a lot to unpack.
"Hermione," I said, scrambling to think of what to say. "Is the issue that people don't want to be friends with you?"
"Yeah," she said weakly.
"If you want," I said, hoping to Puck that I wasn't sounding disingenuous, "you can hang out with me and my lot. We're Hufflepuffs, so we're a lot more friendly than Gryffindors and Slytherins."
Silence. Just long enough to make me wonder that I'd put my foot in my mouth.
"Why?" she asked. She sounded closer to the door now.
"Because no one deserves be treated like you are," I said sincerely. "Plus, I've heard you're pretty smart. I could use someone who I can chat with about magical theory."
I waited for Hermione's response. Had my attempt at levity been a mistake?
"Okay," she said quietly after a long moment of silence.
She came out half a minute later. Her face was wet from where she'd splashed water, and her eyes were puffy and red. She looked at me tentatively and I gave her the thumbs up.
"Right then! Do you want to head back to the Feast now? Or would you prefer to head to the Gryffindor Tower?"
"I… I don't want anyone to see me at the moment," Hermione said softly.
Poor kid.
"We'll head to the kitchens then," I announced. "That way, you can get something to eat."
"Is that allowed‽'' she asked, suddenly nervous. "I mean, 'Hogwarts; a History' doesn't mention the kitchens and…"
"Sure it's allowed," I said before Hermione could work herself up. "I go there all the time."
"Okay then…" Hermione said, sounding incredibly unsure.
We took the scenic route. Cutting through the dungeons would have been quicker, but I wasn't stupid or suicidal, 'Troll in the Dungeons' and all that.
----------------------------------------------------------------
We arrived to find the kitchens in chaos. House-elves were scrambling all over, hurling filthy dishes and scrap food across the room with bursts of magic while screaming at the top of their lungs in high-pitched voices.
What the actual fuck‽
"What are they!" Hermione asked, hiding behind me as I stepped into the room.
"House-elves," I said, trying to wave over one of the kitchen hands. "I'll explain later… Oy! Glirus! What in Merlin's name is going on!"
Glirus skidded to a halt, the tray of gravy-covered chicken wings almost flying out of his hands.
"Master Le Fay! You's need be going now!"
"What happened!" I demanded, staring at the carnage. "I've never seen you lot this busy!"
"Peeves wrecked the Great Hall!" Glirus sobbed, his shoulders shaking. "We's need to clean!!!"
"Okay… I'll come down later to see how you're doing…"
Glirus nodded his head frantically, ears flapping with the motion.
Hermione kept watching the elves wide-eyed until we stepped out into the hallway and the painting of the fruit bowl slammed shut.
"Sorry about that," I said, grimacing. "They're normally a lot happier with visitors, but Peeves must have absolutely destroyed the Halloween Feast."
Hermione nodded mutely, still watching the painting nervously.
"There should be some food in Hufflepuff," I said, steering her away. "You can have a bite to eat there, then one of the prefects can take you back to Gryffindor."
Hermione nodded again, glancing back.
"Do they cook all the food?" she eventually asked.
"That, and the cleaning. Glirus, the elf I spoke with, is one of the cleaners for the cellar and lower floors."
"I thought Filch did the cleaning!" Hermione protested.
As we continued along to Hufflepuff, Hermione continued to open up, forgetting her shyness in favour of more and more inquisitive questions.
I humoured her while mulling over my own queries.
Did Peeves wreak havoc in the Great Hall at Quirrell's will? Did Quirrellmort even bring a troll into the castle? And, if so, what was with the changes to canon?
There was food at Hufflepuff, and beyond a few quirked eyebrows, no one said anything about the lion in the badger's den. We're a welcoming bunch after all.
----------------------------------------------------------------
The term continued smoothly enough. Harry becoming Seeker was the talk of the school for a while, and there were some rumours about Draco trying to challenge Harry to a midnight duel, but I made sure to stay well away from the-boy-who-lived.
The last thing I want is to be dragged into the chaos of his life.
Occasionally, whenever I knew Quirrell was trapped in an obligatory staff meeting, I managed to sneak away to the Room of Requirement. Unfortunately, those opportunities were few and far between, and the rest of the time, I had to content myself with reading over old books that I'd already liberated from the Room.
Almost before I knew it, it was Samhein.
At the beginning of the year, I was of two minds of how to handle Halloween and the events of canon in general. On one hand, I only had four years to go until the ROB spirited me away. I had no reason to get invested in events and was under no obligation to fight Tom the charlatan.
On the other hand, there was the butterfly effect to consider. I didn't know how my presence was changing events, and I distinctly recall that in the Halloween of Hermione's first year, the Troll was moments away from bashing her brains out. If Harry and Ron are just a minute slower, then I could say goodbye to the timeline and hello to the possibility of Quirrell getting the stone.
On the night before Halloween, I had finished my prepping.
Dumbledore and Snape received a few anonymous messages, warning of Quirrell and the possibility of a Troll in the Dungeons. Messages that I took great pains to make sure had no connections to me. To further cover my bases, I even charmed a bunch of letters with audible and seeking charms to pass on the same warnings to a few of the paintings and house-elves. I would have even brought some of the Hogwarts ghosts in on it as well, but they were all attending a party, so I had to make do with what I had.
I fully expected some of the recipients of my messages to ignore them as pranks, but with the house-elves and paintings at least, I knew they'd take it seriously.
That just left Hermione Granger.
I'd seen her around of course. The little firstie Gryffindor with the bushy hair and buck-teeth. Always by herself.
Just before the feast, I managed to slip away from my dorm mates with some rushed excuses about needing the bathroom, then began to wander around. I wasn't going to rely on the capabilities of Teachers or on firsties defeating a troll. I was going to do this myself.
Unfortunately, I didn't know which bathroom Hermione was hiding away in.
Hogwarts, on an average day, is a sprawling tangle of stone corridors and portrait-lined hallways and empty classrooms, and that's before you get into the shifting layout. It took me half an hour before, steeling myself I turned to the nearest painting.
"Excuse me," I asked a portrait of an old friar, "I heard some Gryffindors made a first-year girl cry and that she's in one of the first-floor bathrooms. Do you happen to know which one that is?"
"Certainly, young man," the friar said, straightening slightly and rubbing his chin. "Now… Sir Regenold did say he saw that event this afternoon… two Gryffindor boys. A boy with scruffy black hair and a redhead with freckles right?"
I nodded, waiting for the friar to get to the point.
"Well now," the friar said, leaning back, "Sir Regenold said that the girl… another Gryffindor with bushy hair? He said she headed down the east wing into the north corridor and went into the bathrooms near the entrance to the dungeons… I'm pretty sure Briary Longbottom mentioned that's the one Hufflepuffs use to get to potions class…"
"I know the one!" I said before the friar could carry on. "Thank you!"
"Don't mention it!" the friar called after me, "and if you need any more help, you know where I'm hung!"
Thankfully, I was quickly out of earshot. Portraits are useful, but they're just so chatty. And they seem to know everything about everyone's comings and goings.
It's a little creepy.
Thankfully, there was no troll at the bathroom doors when I arrived so, hurriedly, I knocked on wood.
"Hermione Granger‽" I half called, half whispered. "Are you in there‽"
She definitely was, as I heard her sobbing.
"Listen," I said, a little more loudly in case she hadn't heard, "are you okay?"
Stupid mouth! There's no time for small talk! I glanced at the stairwell to the dungeons. Still no troll.
Screw it, I'd try and get Hermione out of the bathrooms with a good old heart-to-heart talk. If the troll showed up, then I could drag her out. Or lure the smelly bastard away.
"Who… who's out there?" Hermione finally asked. At last! Some sort of acknowledgment of her hearing me!
"I'm Carnac. Carnac Le Fay. From Hufflepuff."
"Oh…"
Come on girl, give me something to work with.
"One of the portraits told me you were in here," I said, trying a different angle. "He said some of your classmates were bullying you."
"I'm fine!" Hermione announced. I could hear the quiver in her voice.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked.
Silence.
"I mean," I continued, "some people have it rough their first year here at Hogwarts. Just being so far from home and all that…"
More silence.
"It always helps to have someone to talk to," I prompted.
Even more silence.
I'd almost given up hope of getting Hermione to talk, resolving to instead wait for the troll, when…
"They don't like me."
It was quiet, almost a whisper, but I caught it.
"Who doesn't like you, Hermione?"
"My classmates," Hermione said a bit louder. "They're always talking about me behind my back. I've heard some of the kids from Slytherin calling me a know-it-all, and the girls in my dorm barely talk to me! And when I heard Ron and Harry… I try to talk to people, but they… they think I'm just…" she trailed off with a shaky breath.
Welp, that's a lot to unpack.
"Hermione," I said, scrambling to think of what to say. "Is the issue that people don't want to be friends with you?"
"Yeah," she said weakly.
"If you want," I said, hoping to Puck that I wasn't sounding disingenuous, "you can hang out with me and my lot. We're Hufflepuffs, so we're a lot more friendly than Gryffindors and Slytherins."
Silence. Just long enough to make me wonder that I'd put my foot in my mouth.
"Why?" she asked. She sounded closer to the door now.
"Because no one deserves be treated like you are," I said sincerely. "Plus, I've heard you're pretty smart. I could use someone who I can chat with about magical theory."
I waited for Hermione's response. Had my attempt at levity been a mistake?
"Okay," she said quietly after a long moment of silence.
She came out half a minute later. Her face was wet from where she'd splashed water, and her eyes were puffy and red. She looked at me tentatively and I gave her the thumbs up.
"Right then! Do you want to head back to the Feast now? Or would you prefer to head to the Gryffindor Tower?"
"I… I don't want anyone to see me at the moment," Hermione said softly.
Poor kid.
"We'll head to the kitchens then," I announced. "That way, you can get something to eat."
"Is that allowed‽'' she asked, suddenly nervous. "I mean, 'Hogwarts; a History' doesn't mention the kitchens and…"
"Sure it's allowed," I said before Hermione could work herself up. "I go there all the time."
"Okay then…" Hermione said, sounding incredibly unsure.
We took the scenic route. Cutting through the dungeons would have been quicker, but I wasn't stupid or suicidal, 'Troll in the Dungeons' and all that.
----------------------------------------------------------------
We arrived to find the kitchens in chaos. House-elves were scrambling all over, hurling filthy dishes and scrap food across the room with bursts of magic while screaming at the top of their lungs in high-pitched voices.
What the actual fuck‽
"What are they!" Hermione asked, hiding behind me as I stepped into the room.
"House-elves," I said, trying to wave over one of the kitchen hands. "I'll explain later… Oy! Glirus! What in Merlin's name is going on!"
Glirus skidded to a halt, the tray of gravy-covered chicken wings almost flying out of his hands.
"Master Le Fay! You's need be going now!"
"What happened!" I demanded, staring at the carnage. "I've never seen you lot this busy!"
"Peeves wrecked the Great Hall!" Glirus sobbed, his shoulders shaking. "We's need to clean!!!"
"Okay… I'll come down later to see how you're doing…"
Glirus nodded his head frantically, ears flapping with the motion.
Hermione kept watching the elves wide-eyed until we stepped out into the hallway and the painting of the fruit bowl slammed shut.
"Sorry about that," I said, grimacing. "They're normally a lot happier with visitors, but Peeves must have absolutely destroyed the Halloween Feast."
Hermione nodded mutely, still watching the painting nervously.
"There should be some food in Hufflepuff," I said, steering her away. "You can have a bite to eat there, then one of the prefects can take you back to Gryffindor."
Hermione nodded again, glancing back.
"Do they cook all the food?" she eventually asked.
"That, and the cleaning. Glirus, the elf I spoke with, is one of the cleaners for the cellar and lower floors."
"I thought Filch did the cleaning!" Hermione protested.
As we continued along to Hufflepuff, Hermione continued to open up, forgetting her shyness in favour of more and more inquisitive questions.
I humoured her while mulling over my own queries.
Did Peeves wreak havoc in the Great Hall at Quirrell's will? Did Quirrellmort even bring a troll into the castle? And, if so, what was with the changes to canon?
There was food at Hufflepuff, and beyond a few quirked eyebrows, no one said anything about the lion in the badger's den. We're a welcoming bunch after all.
Flutters Is Shy
Light the fire, it's time to write!
- Location
- Land of Ze Governator; In Perpetuity
Huh. Since there's no real danger, there's nothing to kick Harrys' hero boner into overdrive in an effort to keep a fellow classmate safe.
Ergo, no reason for him to be out and about, trying to find Hermione in order to save her/ apologize to her.
The golden trio has truly been sundered.
Ergo, no reason for him to be out and about, trying to find Hermione in order to save her/ apologize to her.
The golden trio has truly been sundered.
Sweet.
I think Filtch is the face of the cleaning. He's no Alfred Pennyworth after all.
What is causing all these butterflies? I mean yeah I know it's his introduction but what exactly? He didn't keep the toad from escaping, and I thought(my memory maybe foggy) the troll was brought in well prior to the feast. Did Q+V get wind of it?
I think Filtch is the face of the cleaning. He's no Alfred Pennyworth after all.
Pity.
What is causing all these butterflies? I mean yeah I know it's his introduction but what exactly? He didn't keep the toad from escaping, and I thought(my memory maybe foggy) the troll was brought in well prior to the feast. Did Q+V get wind of it?