Hogwarts: Year Seven - A New Age [IC/OPEN]

[Skylus]

Derek/Ricardo, Hogwarts Corridors

Derek visibly flinched when he heard Ricardo walk up and start talking to him; he spun around, hands curled into fists and raised - then he saw who was talking to him and relaxed slightly, lowered his arms a bit.
Ricardo didn’t see that reaction, as he was containing his sneeze. But he did see the bruise on Derek’s face, despite the hood he was wearing. It was fresh-looking, quite large and purple on his right side. “You did.” He replied to himself mildly shocked. Somebody had obviously punched him hard below the eye. “I spoke to a friend of yours. Don’t think his name matters. He told me what happened.” Ricardo still looked at the bruise, which Derek obviously noticed.
“...Aurors did it... before they let me leave...” Derek turned his head a bit. “Called me traitor after they did it...” Derek’s voice was restrained and quiet, as if it hurt for him to speak. And of course, it would, with being alone with no reason to talk for several months.
The South American alternated his gaze between Derek’s face and the Kneazle, scratching his nose again. “You are out at least. And this might not be the freest place on Earth. But it’s Hogwarts for one more year.” He tried to be uplifting when he talked. Ricardo seemed to at least try to relate. He had been called traitor as well.

“I assume Haverbouch told you what happened to me? Not all of it.” Derek reached into the inside of his midnight blue robes and took out a Blackthorn wand. “The bastards snapped my old wand. Right before they punched me after they let me out of that cell and told me to leave.”
Ricardo frowned. “I thought they only did that on expulsion… Maybe they wanted to scare you into thinking that.” He replied trying to rationalize but shook his head. “At least you got yourself a new one. Ollivander?”

Derek nodded. “Gave it to me for free. Tried to pay him but he wouldn’t accept anything...” “Well… He has a sort of monopoly. Doesn’t come to wrong his soul to give some free ones every now and then, does it?” Ricardo shrugged and cracked a smile. ”Listen. We should talk about what your friend told me. But given where we are, I don’t want to be too open about it. How about we meet later tomorrow after class?”

Derek nodded and then tightly hugged Ricardo without warning. Of course, he hadn’t any human contact in several months...
“They... they sent dogs after me, you know, when I hit the hunting-master and ran... I... I had to... kill my dog, they sent him after me and...”
The other one was obviously surprised at this. But returned the embrace. “That’s horrible.” He said, not really sure what to add. “Hey. At least you got your… What’s this thing even?” He pointed at the animal on Derek’s shoulder. “I think I’m allergic to it.”

“Kneazle. I managed to apparate back to the cottage before I went to the Leaky Cauldron a day ago. Got 250 Galleons.” Derek looked around to see if anyone was nearby. “Turns out I have a huge chest full of Galleons in a hidden room, I’m talking centuries old.” He showed his friend a coin from 1647. Ricardo seemed to have realised something as he saw the coin.
“It’s a miracle nobody found it. You did get it all out of there, right? Because the moment Avery finds out…”
“He won’t find it. Apparently it’s protected... by ancient wards, I doubt even the most powerful wizard alive could break them. It’s... my inheritance. Suppose I get the cottage and everything inside of it as well... Least I have some place to live....”

Ricardo wasn’t so sure, obviously. “Yes, but this is Avery… I suppose we should hope for luck that he isn’t eavesdropping.” Ricardo looked into the Great Hall. Avery wasn’t there. Which wasn’t good. “So let’s talk tomorrow after classes. Meet me here. Alright?”
“Maybe. We can talk after classes tomorrow... somehow. I don’t know what they’re doing, I might have guards on me most of the time... Guess I’ll find out.” Derek stepped away from Ricardo.
“And… you might want to put on the school uniform. You are not a stranger after all.” He remarked with a smirk.
“...Well, I need to get a new one. Somehow.”

“What? You don’t have one? That can’t be good at all.” Ricardo seemed a bit frustrated while thinking of a way to fix this. “There has to be somewhere they store lost uniform or something. My old school used to have one. It stunk, but it could save your spine…” He was drifting away, so kept brainstorming. “There is a storeroom, I think. Maybe they have a spare school uniform, or something less conspicuous.” He suggested. “It’s not far.”
“Want to walk with me or would you rather go inside the Great Hall?” Derek pointed towards the Hall. Still no sign of the headmaster, and some students still walked into the school.
“Come! We have time, I think.” Ricardo signalled and headed opposite to the Great Hall, across the Entrance Hall towards a corridor.

“I think this is Classroom Eleven. I have never been in it. Have you?” He asked Derek as they walked past the only classroom in the corridor and towards an exit to a courtyard.
“No. Wonder what’s in there. Actually, you want to check it out?”
“Better not.” Ricardo hesitated. “Let’s stick to the storeroom, and maybe we can check this one later.” He said before continuing to the courtyard, looking about for those Aurors. He wasn’t breaking any rule. But he didn’t want to run into one of those patrols.
Derek followed Ricardo to the courtyard, notably on edge. “So...um... I have a new fear of the dark and small spaces now I guess... and the Ministry and Avery... Can tell this year is going to be taxing for me already....”
“Nobody around… Don’t think of it, I suppose.” Ricardo leaned on the entrance to the courtyard and looked about before shrugging. He crossed the cobblestone yard towards the door on an edge. “Locked. Of course.” He muttered a curse in Spanish after gently pushing the door to open. “Keep an eye open while I deal with the lock.”

Derek nodded and kept a hand on his new wand, once again inside the inner pocket of his new robes, keeping an eye on the courtyard. Hopefully this wouldn’t take too long.
Ricardo turned and looked at the lock, then drew his wand.
“Alohomora.”
There was a click. Slightly rusty, but efficient enough. Ricardo sighed. So far nothing signaled that they were being watched. But he wouldn’t count on Avery not having any extra set of eyes around. He pushed the door gently to open it and looked inside. It was dark. “Derek…” He muttered and waved his wand to lit it and see about.

Rows of wooden crates stacked against the walls, that’s all Ricardo saw. Plus some desks folded and out of use. He noticed some were damaged. One was charred halfway through the board and several had odd biting marks. The windows were darkened by a layer of dust, so even under Ricardo’s light it was very dark. “Stay there, though. I will search. Keep your eyes open, but don’t let yourself be seen.”

“Right.” Derek stepped into the shadows of the room and waited. “Wonder what’s up with the charred and bitten desk....”
Ricardo examined them for a few seconds. It reminded him of the first bites on that old man before being shredded to pieces.
“Arañas…” He said in Spanish and kept searching between the boxes. There were some loose objects, like old quills and some rolled parchment. “I really hope not to open these boxes.”

There was some chatting outside. Either Seven Years or Aurors. He turned to Derek. “Get the door closer, quick!” He whispered, then snuffed off his wand’s light. “Don’t let it crack.”
Derek moved to the door and closed it, then pressed himself up against it, being as silent as possible as he eyed Ricardo in the near darkness. This amount of light was okay.... for now. Ricardo kept searching in near absolute silence, and a pale light came from the tip of his wand. It was more like moonlight than an illuminating spell.
“Blast it…” He looked around. “Those could be wardrobes, no?” He pointed towards some tall furniture that rested on a wall near Derek. It had dark-green paint, but it was scratched and wasted by time. “See if you can open them. Careful, though. They are leaving still.” Ricardo pointed at the window overlooking the courtyard.

“Isn’t there a room silencing spell?” Derek hadn’t spoken any louder than a raised whisper the entire time. Ricardo nodded. He didn’t want to risk using more magic than needed.
Derek left the door and moved over to the wardrobe, then risked opening it.
Inside the wardrobe there was what seemed to be a set of very old Hogwarts uniforms. At least old enough to a set of slight differences. There were plain black robes, some white shirts and a pair of jumpers. Also a row of ties of varying houses was handing on a pole. One thing, however, was obvious. These were not only old. They were worn and damaged, as if they had been part of a big fight.

“Don’t you think these belonged to some of the students during the battle?” Ricardo mumbled upon looking at the interior of the wardrobe.

“During the battle with... Him? Feels kind of disrespectful to wear clothes that were worn in that battle. But hey, I’d like to think those that won would be okay with it.” Derek took a full set of the Gryffindor outfit and retreated into the shadows for a while, then returned wearing the old, faded clothing, his midnight blue robes thrown over a shoulder. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Ricardo headed towards the door and peeked outside. Nobody. “Though if you have time you should head to the Gryffindor Common, -wherever that is- or maybe the toilet, and use some repairing charms on the uniform. Unless those bites are from a basilisk or something you should be able to fix them.”

He walked outside, his wand now darkened and away. “Or maybe just sit behind others and hide the rags.” He re-locked the room once Derek was out. “It’s funny. I don’t know a lot about that battle. My father used to tell me how heroic it was. But at this point I don’t give him any credit.” They began walking towards the corridor.

“...So did my dad... He said he saw Professor Longbottom kill that snake. You know, with Godric’s sword and all. Funny to think they thought it wouldn’t ever happen again, and here we are, our generation, fighting non stop since we were eleven. For some reason, I think it’s about to get even worse.” Derek retold, though a grim tone foreshadowed. They reached the corridor. And soon passed by Room eleven.

“Usshh… my nose…” Ricardo pinched his nose again, rubbing it. He would have to deal with an allergy later. Then he sneezed.

“Oi!”
He turned and saw the shadows of at least four men moving through the corridor, alternating through the moonlight. He had to think quick. He drew out his wand.
“Alohomora!” – The door lock cracked open and Ricardo reached for Derek, shoving him inside. He was surprisingly light and easy to push in, ferret and all. He then shut the door close and locked it back with his wand.

“What do you think you are doing?”
What was he doing indeed? He had fourty-seven souls to look after. The others could do it. He wasn’t sure if Derek was in probation or anything.
Derek fell to the floor of the room after Ricardo shoved him and quickly got up, then moved out of the way of the door.
“N-nothing…” Ricardo’s voice replied.
Derek had a feeling that if any Aurors caught him... well... it wouldn’t be good. He would have to merely wait in the shadows of the abandoned classroom until they left. Whenever that was...

Outside, the auror at the head of this small group was older than the others, and bore a scar the trailed down his neck and under the high collar of his red officers' uniform; likely a token of his veterancy. He did not reach for a wand, instead hooking a thumb around his belt.

"You've a feast to attend, aye?" He gestured across the Entrance Hall, where a few straggling students were being ushered in. It didn’t seem to Ricardo they noticed somebody was behind the door. Then again, these were Aurors. The man waved the boy off.
"Well? Go on, then. Off with you!"

He frowned. “Sorry. I was just getting some fresh air. The Express, y’ kna. I don’t enjoy bumpy rides.” The Auror’s posture with his thumb on his belt gave him a shivering feeling off his spine. He turned around trying to keep the wand hidden and walked towards the Entrance Hall, but slowly, trying to figure out if they would search the room. He had locked it back, that should do.

The officer's gaze went from Ricardo to the door next to them, then back to the boy. He and his entourage stood watching him return to the Hall. Seconds passed in silence, before Derek finally heard their footsteps make their way away from the room, their voices trailing off as they went.
"Chris'sake, shadowin' me like some sort'a dog! You lot've got posts of your own..."

Derek waited until the footsteps faded. He lit up the room, feeling his own heartbeats calming down a bit, and unlocked the door with his new wand. Nobody. He crept through the corridors and eventually ended back up at the Great Hall. He knew that people would most likely notice how old and battle worn the clothes and robes he was wearing were, he hoped no one would approach him about it, but they most likely would. Ricardo was sitting at the Hufflepuff table, and eyed Derek as he entered the Great Hall, giving an obvious sigh of relief.
Derek slowly made his way to the Gryffindor table and sat down at the north end, waiting for Avery or the other Gryffindors to show up. He also wondered, again, if anyone would ask about his new appearance - his hair now went past his shoulders and he looked frail, his normally bright blue eyes were now a dark blue grey, his skin was somewhat paler, and of course he had that facial scar from dueling William - it was a large scar, one that started from right next to his left eye and went down to his jaw in a straight line - as well as the large purple bruise just below his right eye. (Restating because new page) (Also pretend his cat went up to the dorms)

[Triassica]

Raphael Raymond

The return to Hogwarts could not have come sooner for Raphael, even though it did, in fact, came sooner than he expected, when the muggleborn read his usual Hogwarts letter. Raph was, to say the least, skeptical of Caitie's accusation that the Headmaster, Avery, was the one who wiped his memory of Alexander Markus. However, as he sat at the Slytherin table during the Great Feast, he found that neither of them could be trusted. As far as Raphael cared, both of them were suspect. Hell. They could have both done it. Regardless, the muggleborn thought it best to discuss his conversation with Caitie back at the party with those close to him, especially Ricardo and Madi and the rest of those he trusted at the Army.

Raphael just hoped, as he awaited Avery to give his speech, that there may be a meeting soon. Or at the very least, he could find a time to speak to them personally at his own time.

[Miekzhemy]

Co-written w/ Anarcho (part 1)
August - Hogwarts Express
Rachel Ackerley / Henry Gray

A pillar of smoke billowed from the engine of the train as it charged down the tracks from Kings' Cross and into the Highlands to Hogwarts. The compartments were, as usual, packed or occupied by students young and old. Though it would be the typical thoughts of wonder and awe upon the soon-to-be First Years, to some it was clear that their tenure at the famed school of witchcraft and wizardry had begun to lose its luster.

Rachel slumped back in the booth of her compartment, content in being alone for the time being. Though it had been months since her discharge from St. Mungo's, the pain and weakness continued to linger, sapping her of energy at any wrong movement. She had done well to hide it, however. The thin layer of makeup masked the marred skin brought on by William's cursed fire, and the black tights of her uniform hid the bandaged new leg that still had yet to stop plaguing her with a slight limp. She knew very well it would be a long while before she would regain her previous strength to practice her advanced magics, let alone activities such as duelling or quidditch. But still, the broken witch couldn't help but sit in quiet contemplation of what the future had in store for her. Her eyes glanced to the right, as an auror passed by her compartment and made his way down the aisle. The ones on the train no longer wore the armor over their uniform, but their mere presence made it clear to everyone aboard that disturbances would not be tolerated.

The witch looked away, and let her eyes flutter shut. Leaning her head back, she let her mind wander. If she listened hard enough, she could almost read a pattern to the auror’s back-and-forth patrols down the aisle - the sound of jackboots marching in tandem.

'March...march...march...'

However, the pattern was eventually interrupted when the door of her compartment slowly slid open. She opened her eyes, and turned her cold, tired gaze to her visitor.

Henry slipped into the compartment, the head boy’s badge gleaming above the quidditch captain’s badge on his uniform. His hair was tucked back behind his ears, an unusual level of care for the young man to show to it. The High Lord’s son had some new scars to show on his hands and forearms, though from where they might originate was unknown, due to most of his time during the summer being spent as an Ambassador’s Aide to the Swedish ministry. Underneath a freshly re-stitched cloak, the rest of Henry’s uniform was in it’s usual rather unkempt state. His ebony wand stuck out from his pocket, ready to be drawn at a moment’s notice.

Another Auror seemed to look into the compartment, but quickly averted his eyes upon seeing who was in it. Henry shut the door to prevent further intrusions. Looking Rachel up and down, Henry sighed and said calmly “Figured we should have a little chat before we pulled into Hogsmeade.”

For the next several seconds, the witch sitting before him said nothing. Her green eyes bore into his own, her expression giving more than enough indication that she wasn't too keen on Henry being here. Her school cloak was draped over the lounging witch much like a blanket, bearing a badge similar to his own: Head Girl.

Rachel eventually let out a soft sigh through her nose.

"...What do you want?"


Rachel
The Great Hall

The Head Girl ascended the shallow set of stairs to the Great Hall ahead of a few First Years, the length of her cloak masking that damned limp to her walk as the end dragged along the marble floor. She stepped aside at the doors and ushered the young ones inside. As they filed into the Hall to their respective tables, the witch took this brief opportunity to scan the room, taking in the all too familiar ceaseless chattering that was the opening feast. Her gaze lingered on the Hall for a long time, a saddening feeling coming over her as she realized it was the last opening ceremony she would attend. Regardless of the trials and tribulations that came to be associated with this place, Hogwarts had become more of a home to both her and her peers than anywhere else.

Rachel hung her head for but a moment, and sucked in a lungful of air, breathing it out in a single coarse breath. Ignoring the pain that followed, she stepped into the hall.

She had spent much of the train ride alone, and even now that everyone had begun arriving at the castle, she hadn't even spoken to any of her classmates yet. Aside from those at Caitie's summer party, she wouldn't be surprised if the majority of them assumed she had died. She wondered to herself. How would they react to her state now? Would they even notice? Perhaps the looks were being shot her way already...

The witch shuffled up to the Gryffindor table and made her way to the spot she usually sat down at, returning a few off-handed waves to anyone who greeted her. She passed by the north end of the table, noticing a peculiar set of long hair. After catching a glimpse of the boy's face, Rachel briefly stepped up, and put a hand on Derek's shoulder - softly, so as to not scare the absolute dickens out of him.

"Meet me in the Common later," she muttered below her breath, leaning in for a second. "Need to talk about something."

Rachel stepped away as quickly as she had come up, and hurried to her seat as fast as the limp would let her.

[Britanania]

Caitie

Ushering in First Years was never an easy task, let alone when the entire castle was crawling with aurors. Caitie didn't have the time nor the inclination to indulge in the First Year's questions during a good year, let alone in the first semester coming off of one of the worst attacks in Hogwarts History.

"Did someone die here?"

"Will the aurors keep us safe?"

"Is it true ghosts haunt the castle?"

"Are we really allowed to dress like that when we're Seventh Years?"

It's only for a little bit longer, Caitie reminded herself as they reached the Great Hall. Isolde came in at the same time, making some small talk about the changes. Caitie looked around at the aurors, in groups of two all around.

"More of the same, most likely," she muttered laconically. "And we all know what that means."

The feast proceeded as normal with the sorting ceremony and other such frivolous activities, but Caitie noticed that two chairs remained unoccupied at the dais. One was Avery, absent throughout the ceremony thus far. But the other.

All of the professors are account for, so who is that for?

Before Caitie could continue her line of questioning, Avery suddenly appeared at the podium, having apparated in. The grave Headmaster looked around the room, the Great Hall once bursting with energy now turned to eerie silence

"Good evening," Avery began.

[Arlye Austros]

Isolde

She didn’t reply to Caitie. Isolde had already imagined it, and stared at the surroundings, noticing small details that obviously aimed to make this place a tomb for any attacking it.
“I imagine their parents are happy with it.” She added nodding at the first years. “See you later.”

She took seat at the Hufflepuff table, as usual. Isolde noticed Derek with the Slytherins. He seemed good. At least in one piece. But there were several missing faces. So many gone. Even some bound to St. Mungo still. In her mind this was as much Avery’s fault as William’s.

“Higgins! Enough with that!” She whispered aggressively at a trio of boys who threw enchanted paper planes at the first years, landing them on a girls hair before it buzzed out of existence, causing her to scratch her head and look around for a culprit several times. If Peeves saw that she would be eaten alive by the Poltergeist that year.


Ricardo

What did Rachel whisper to Derek? Should he even care? He did. His eyes followed the girl as she moved slowly towards her spot in the table. She had healed only slightly since he last saw her. At this point it seemed her full recovery would be impossible.

The sorting ceremony went on. He didn’t bother too much about who the first years were. But then remembered his project and paid more attention to some details, like the Sorting Hat itself. Prefects greeted the First Years into the Hufflepuff table. More than one seemed disappointed. At this point it didn’t even made Ricardo mad.
Only when it was over he noticed Avery wasn’t there. That was unsettling. Just as he thought about it…

Silence. And the Headmaster looked down to them, greeted them as if he hadn’t just apparated in the middle of the front stage.

[Britanania]

Headmaster Edmund Avery

Hogwart's Headmaster scanned the room once more as he greeted the student body. Silence. Total, absolute silence pervaded the Great Hall as the Headmaster waited several more moments before continuing his introductions.

"Good evening," Avery repeated for effect. "Now, we have several important announcements before the rest of our wonderful feast can continue. First, as a matter of logistics, the first month of the school year will be the conclusion of last year's truncated year," Avery said. "At the end of the month you will take the examinations you would have taken last term."

Finally a reaction from the student body, a collective series of groaning and mumbling throughout save for the First Years, having seemingly made out. After a few moments, the Headmaster continued.

"Previous restrictions from last year will also carry over," he explained. "Including chaperoned groups to Hogsmeade and other off-campus events, and you will have noticed increased Auror security that will continue," Avery mentioned. "Which also bring me to the next point, the announcement of our new Headboy and Headgirl: Henry Grey and Rachel Ackerley," he said with a slight grin and gestures towards the pair. "Will you both not stand for us, so everyone can know who you are? The Headboy and Headgirl will serve as my eyes and ears, so to speak."

[Miekzhemy]

Co-written w/ Anarcho (part 2)
Rachel / Henry

"What do you want?"

Henry looked down the hallway at the Auror’s marching back and forth. Snorting at them, he looked back at Rachel and nodded in the Auror’s direction before saying “I take it you also aren’t a fan of the added security.”

The witch promptly slumped a little further into the booth, ever so slightly shaking her head. “Whatever shit you have cooking up in that head of yours, I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m flattered that you think I have some big scheme or something planned that I need your help with, but that’s not the case. I just figured we should get our goals straight given that we have to work together this year anyways.”

“My goal,” Rachel nearly interrupted. “Is to gain back what I lost.”

Henry scoffed a little and said calmly “And to think I was the melodramatic one. Look Rachel, you can do whatever you want to do in your spare time, I don’t particularly care. But when push comes to shove, we’ve always seen eye to eye on one thing. Our school, and our classmates are worth banding together for. And judging by the train ride they’re going to need our help more than ever.”

Rachel exhaled through her nose, her lips twisting into a smirk. "What's your plan, then? Dig everyone a deeper hole? Stand up to authority hoping the other kids will do the same?"

She seemed about to laugh, but the sharp pain shooting up her spine put a stop to it. "Ah--" she put a hand to her shoulder, taking a slow breath. "Or maybe...undermine him in some other covert way? Avery already knows what I've done behind his back. Chances are, he's pried information out of your friends too, yeah?"

A pause set in.

“Why do you think he gave us these badges?”

Rachel
The Great Hall

Their conversation flashed by her mind for a moment as Avery apparated in to begin his announcements. She had already been aware of the plan to tackle last term's examinations over the course of the first month - a letter that was thankfully sent fairly early into the summer to make sure the returning students kept their studies up. It was something to occupy her time during the first few weeks of her recovery, at the very least. She made a mental note to check in with Professor Sedwig on her situation.

The Headmaster then mentioned the obvious elephant in the room: the Aurors. It was frankly impossible for anyone to have missed them. Clearly the events from the last year only showed the Ministry that security was paramount. Whereas she had only seen the occasional one watching over the high-traffic areas of the school during her Sixth year, now they were everywhere. They guarded the Express. They were posted at the doors. Pairs patrolled the corridors of the castle. They even escorted the student body on their way from Hogsmeade Station to the castle. Though there were more, it was a noticeably different atmosphere compared to the previous term. These aurors were quiet; less...on edge. The look on their faces made her wonder. Perhaps they were as sick of the violence and danger as the rest of the school? Or maybe it was something in the water? Dad's previous instructions to her and Andrew were simple:

'The guard will rotate between every person in the Corps over the year. Some will be veterans, some will be raw recruits. They are there to protect you.' he told them. 'But they are not your friends. Do not speak to them unless spoken to. Do not play tricks on them. Do as they say, when they say it. Don't make their jobs any harder than it already is...'

In hindsight, the words had merit coming from him. She knew Dad was at the battle, but never saw him. Since then he had that tired look in his eyes, refusing to even speak of what had transpired. Judging by Mum's ceaseless worry, he still hadn't told her either. Rachel hung her head. When she was a little girl, he always seemed proud of the work he did. But now...

The witch snapped back to reality as Avery made his next point: the new Heads. He called out Henry's name, immediately provoking much of the Great Hall to erupt into applause. Shouts of applause sounded above the claps, primarily from the Slytherin table. Her name came next, and the Gryffindors quickly joined in on the cheering. Her gaze shifted to the Hufflepuff table to see more familiar faces following suit. Andrew tried to stand, but only just in time for Professor Jackal to quietly tell him to stay seated, prompting him to awkwardly sit back down. A slightly embarrassed grin crept over her face, before the Sixth Year prefect sitting on her right gave the witch a pat on the shoulder. Rachel leaned over and whispered to her.

"I swear if he makes me stand up--"

Avery gestured from his podium. "Will you both not stand for us, so everyone can know who you are?"

The girl almost snorted, and Rachel shook her head. "Agh, shit!" she hissed under her breath, almost laughing as she said it. The witch slowly rose to her feet, doing her best to hide the pain now that half the damned Hall was looking at her. He was doing this on purpose, wasn't he? The room quieted down a bit as Avery began to resume speaking.

"The Head Boy and Head Girl will serve as my eyes and ears, so to speak."

Ah, there it was, she thought. The real reason he appointed them. Rachel kept her "just smile and wave" attitude as she stood before Avery and the rest of the student even amidst this bitter realization, waiting patiently to finally be told to sit back down.

[Arlye Austros]

Isolde

She’d forgotten about the Finals! Isolde didn’t join the general groan, but she left her head fall back in frustration. The night was clear. How could she forget the Finals? At least she had time, and she could feel last year’s lessons somewhat fresh, all things considered. Maybe she had a chance at having acceptable scores.

But the Avery had a bit of a surprise for her as well. After his announcement there was a general cheer for Henry Grey, and another for Rachel. She joined in slapping the edge of the table to make some accompanying noise, but trying to keep her own dignity as Prefect. She noticed Rachel’s obvious pain as she stood up. It was unthinkable Avery hadn’t thought about her condition.
As Rachel eyed back at the Hufflepuff table she smiled faintly at her, but nodded, joining the disapproval Isolde imagined the newly-appointed Headgirl was feeling towards the Headmaster. She remembered the conversation they had. Would Rachel be thinking of the same thing?

Isolde then realised she was taking mental notes of things. Something she learnt from the newspaper. She looked around and located David nearby, making eye contact and moving her lips so he could understand what she said while shrugging: <<Eyes and Ears>>?

Ricardo

Exams? Really? Perhaps he should have left Funkel rip him apart. He thought that with a bit of a bitter humour in his mind. But he did join the general cheer once Henry and Rachel were called as Headboy and Girl -with more enthusiasm towards Rachel- and allowed his mind to go off towards that very year. Maybe if he studied hard for the time he had he could defend himself at the exams. Plus he felt pretty sure about every spell taught last year. He had also read a lot of magical theory. Not necessarily related to Hogwarts, but perhaps it would be useful. Was Caitie aware of the success he had with the Animus? Was she aware of his own thoughts?

He returned to that conversation he had with his mother. The last actual conversation they had. She was a Legilimens, so was the Kalku he had torn apart with a legion of vermin. They were both aware of his thoughts, his memories. So was Lucero, but that was a different matter altogether. Was Caitie one as well? Avery? Could he allow either of them to know about the ship?
She searched his pocket and he got out a small bottle, a vial with a vitriolic green substance. Ricardo uncorked it and let three drops fall on his pumpkin juice. Then drank.


Amelia Grenwald.
Sankt Pauli, Hamburg

It was a dark room, barely illuminated by the natural light brought by the dusty skylights. But outside it was sunny. Perhaps one of the last sunny days of the year.
“One moment, please.” The man said, looking around from his chair. Amelia sat in a similar one, a cushioned armchair with dark wine roses on the fabric and a hardwood rest. They had just walked in and sit beside an apparatus with two old-looking microphones, and was almost as if he didn’t notice that the small alcove was dirty beyond any civilized standard. He took out his wand and waved it once, while Amelia placed her folded coat on her knees.

Objects around began moving, taking to the, air and in time landing in places that made more sense. An ashtray seemed to empty its contents in mid-air and the ashes burned into smoke before touching the ground. Some dispersed books found their way into some crates that were pushed to the corner, and a wave of cold air dispersed the dust that accumulated on the planked floor and the stashed boxes. A carpet unrolled and extended itself on the floor, between Amelia and a bookshelf, which was slowly populated with what seemed like a collection of books Amelia couldn’t make the content from the names: ”Spitzohren. Ohne Stimmen”, “Aus der Dracheshöhle: Die Befreiung und Tod von Dobby”, and Hauselfen an Der Krieg: v.1914 b.1949.

Soon the last remnants of dust seemed to retreat between the openings in the ceiling, and some glasses remade themselves on the table upon which the apparatus laid, and filled themselves like a font with water.

“If you are thirsty.” The man offered. He was bald and had large eyes, but seemed otherwise benign in his expression.
“Thanks, Peter. I take it you didn’t expect me to come.”
“On the contrary.” The man smiled, putting away his wand and taking a close look at the apparatus, which was among the few things untouched by the massive reparation. “I just hoped we could have this interview on a different spot.” He tapped the apparatus’s side with the wand, making a transparent bead to come off a slit. “The owner of this room provided me the space. I would have left it more presentable with more time, but it wasn’t possible I am afraid.”
“Who is it?” She asked. Peter replaced the bead with another one and the machine made a loud click.
“A witch. She liked to spend vacations here, using Hamburg as a base to go through the Ostsee… Oder was it her parents? I think they used it during winter.” He ruminated his mind while checking for the machine. “Well, this is done.” Peter then looked at her.

“Shoot away…” Amelia rested her back and smiled. The other one chuckled.
“Frau Grenwald. You sit as Lady Minister for International Cooperation of the British Ministry of Magic. For how long now?”
“About two years. Although it does feel longer. It’s also been known as the High Lordship of Albion for over one year now.” She reminded with a friendly smile, and most importantly, a friendly voice.

“Oh, yes, I forgot. Longer? How so?” The words exchanged as the machine seemed to reach to the words. Soon, Amelia noticed it was not only recording, but doing a buzzing noise that, as the words progressed, reminded her of whispers. A translating bead.

“As you might know, it’s been a couple of intense years.” The circumstances returned to her mind, but she wasn’t to introduce them. Peter, on the other hand.
“Muggle-Wizarding violence; Incidents at the Hogwarts School of Magic and Wizarding, to many across Europe the crown jewel of the British Isles…” He numerated raising his fingers, and looked straight at her as he pointed out Hogwarts’s reputation. “Questions on the reforms done in the last year; recent allegations of political cleansing; dead students at the school… On top of the fact a Minister was killed.”

She sighed slightly. She didn’t dislike Malvolio Glacies at all. He was not the most likeable fellow, but his leadership was commendable, Amelia thought. “We all lamented Malvolio Glacies’s dead. It was sudden and… well, it forced all of us to act in strength and haste. Luckily, we got to the ultimate culprits this year, which comes to prove the reforms were not only needed, but most effective.” She regurgitated the narrative with a naturality she deemed herself numb to.
“Yes. The last of the Todsfresser… the Deatheaters. To many in Europe it seemed unlikely they could pull out such a thing. Let alone by using Muggleborn as a front-line.”
The rumours came back to Amelia’s mind.
“It surprised us all, to be honest. Our intelligence had to be revitalised, naturally, and the reports came in to confirm the hints that they weren’t just not gone, but also growing strong.”
“And these reforms. Can you tell us anything about them?”

She went through some harmless details, small things regarding hastened bureaucracy, while keeping a semblance of protection of rights. She wasn’t nevertheless, any shy on clearing the kickback. “The Lord Minister authorised the use of the Killing Curse, that is true. It was deemed as the only effective protection. It has, luckily, been barely used. I would say not at all in the last six months, excluding the events at Hogwarts, of course.”
Yet other Unforgivable Curses had been used. And to what objective? She thought.

“It is the Killing Curse. You will excuse me if-”
Amelia cut him in the middle of the sentence. “We faced a group willing to herd fools to the slaughter of innocents. In the protection of our citizens we would never hesitate, if the foe is something like a Deatheater.”
“And the Muggleborn?” The reporter asked, mirroring Amelia’s determination.
“They were never under threat, I can assure you. As you know I worked in the International Justice and Legal Department. I overwatched the respect of Wizarding Rights during the first half of the late Minister Glacies’s term, and I would never have been on board for the Albion Reforms if I wasn’t certain it would keep to the International Standards I championed for.”
“Still…” the man didn’t quite hesitate, just made a pause. “And I hope you will pardon me with this. You lost your husband to Muggleborn violence at that time. Can you tell us you didn’t change in your ideals?”

She didn’t quite expect that. Amelia knew people were listening. She couldn’t just walk away. “My husband’s death was not easy to understand, I must confess… I must confess I did harbour some resent. But I quickly understood he was a by-standing victim of something else. There are still things that need to be polished between the Magical and Non-Magical communities. Rust in the wheels. My husband liked to work on them. And he was victim to that rust.” It was a metaphor she had rehearsed before travelling to Germany. And she still hated it. “I know our best service will amend those differences, and I still trust in the High Lord to demand that service from all of us.”

Peter Umrad smiled with respect. “I thank you for your frankness, Frau Grenwald.” He said in a soft, calming voice. Amelia realised she herself was raising her own. “Now, on a different matter. Your daughter studies at Hogwarts.”
She nodded.
“And I understand she was involved in the violence that happened there recently. Is she recovered?”
She nodded again. “Luckily, she had recovered. I would say she has come out of it stronger and more determined as well. Isolde is going through her last year, and I am sure she will grow to be able and fulfil her ambitions.”
“Yet Hogwarts must be somewhat terrifying. Given what has happened.” Amelia had to concede that in the silence of her thoughts.
“She is Prefect, and given that seat she must show her determination this year.”
“You must be proud.”
“Of course. Her father would be too.”

They went back to other matters, mostly the relationship between the High Lordship of Albion and the International Confederation. Peter Umrad seemed aware not to touch the topic of her family or Hogwarts. He had seen something, and that made Amelia somewhat worried.
“I suppose that is all we could cover. I would like to thank you for your time and effort to come once more, Madame Lady Minister.”

He shook her hand after ticking the machine, which stopped making its buzzing sound.
“My pleasure, Herr Umrad.”
“Ein gutes Sprechen.” He replied with a smirk and stood up. Amelia grabbed a coat and headed to the door which the man opened for her. “And congratulations.”
“On what?” She stopped, smiling a bit confused.
“Oh… I thought you knew. I suppose having twelve children with four different wives makes you see in advance when a woman is expecting.”
She opened her eyes wide.
“I am not…” She mumbled, but she somewhat knew she was. “I am sorry, you are mistaken.”
The man turned aside his head. “Even old men make mistakes.”

[Britanania]

Headmaster Edmund Avery

The applause from the students filled the Great Hall with perhaps the most jubilation since Avery entered the room, a fact that was not only not lost on the Headmaster, but something he seemed to revel in as he gave a soft smile through the applause until he put his hand up and gave permission for the pair of students to sit down.

"Yes, we are all very proud of them," he said. "You are to treat Mr Grey and Miss Ackerley as you would treat me, and give them the measure of respect deserving of their post."

Avery cleared his throat, offering a slight pause in his speech.

"Now, before I continue, there is one other major announcement for you all this evening. You may have noticed an empty chair among our staff. Whilst I shall continue to serve as Professor of Dark Arts, another position has been added, on the advice of the Highlord himself." Avery paused again, his steely gaze moving over the student body.

"A Career Counsellor has been assigned, who will assist you all with finding careers post-graduation."

At the Headmaster's words, the doors to the Great Hall opened and a young woman walked through, taking her time as she made her way towards the podium, the sound of her heels clicking through the hall. Avery moved away from the lectern, taking his seat as she stood, looking over the four houses.

"Good evening," she said, in a heavy Russian accent. "I am Ivana Karamazov. I shall answer any question you have."

[Arlye Austros]

Ricardo

It took a while to feel a bit of that jubilation. The effect of the potion was something his body and mind were somewhat accustomed to, but it was his only practical defense form anyone trying to see into the latter. But the applause died before he could join it, as Avery made another announcement. He made a somewhat audible chuckle when he said there would be a career counselor. Then she came in. The woman made her passing between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff table. Ricardo turned as she passed behind him. His heart nearly bounced off his chest.

Had his aunt tracked him down? It couldn’t be. She was younger, for sure, but the resemblance, outside of the hair, was remarkable. For a fraction of a second he had the contained impulse to grab his wand. He had chopped off her arm with a damn axe! It would be a miracle if Tamara was still alive. Still, all that inundated his mind then was a weary fear as the woman introduced herself.


Isolde

Well, that was a surprise. Not only it wasn’t a professor who walked into the Hall, it was just something entirely unexpected. Then again, it was obvious for Hogwarts to do something about the Seventh Years’ future. Her eyes followed the woman passing in front of the Hufflepuff table. At least those brats were silent as well. Isolde tried to note in her mind the details about her, anything. Well, that until she spoke. Russian? From Eastern Europe at least. Isolde was just full of more questions.

She raised her hand and spoke as soon as Karamazov’s gaze found her. “What will you do exactly? Are you planning to interview us each, or carry out evaluations?” She fired away. Isolde had heard of similar people and the way they conducted their role. She was worried, however, that this would be another mean of control by Grey and Avery.

[Skylus]

Derek Forester, Madison Goodwill, Great Hall

‘Career counselor? Who the hell does this woman think she is?’ Madi thought as she gazed at the woman walking to the front of the Great Hall. It was nearly dead silent for once, then various people began to ask questions. Madi then asked a question of her own. “Quite a few of us have taken part in the various battles here. Will that effect our career choices at all?”

Meanwhile, Derek merely kept to himself and tried to not draw any sort of attention. He was afraid that his grandfather had completely ruined his family’s life when he had outed himself as a traitor and then had been executed. Derek wondered if because of that, if he had any chance of securing any sort of job in any profession. He didn’t say this aloud, of course. Perhaps he’d have to talk with this woman after all. Perhaps it would be best if he found out about his possible future.
But yet there were so many questions: Would anyone accept him working for them despite his and his family’s history? What professions could he even enter? He supposed he didn’t need to be paid that much, if at all due to the Galleon chest back at the cottage. Then again did Avery discover it? So many questions...

[Triassica]

Raphael Raymond

Raphael watched as the Headmaster Avery arrived to give his opening year announcements to the crowd of students, the silence in the Great Hall now absolutely deafening. He rolled his eyes and joined the student body in groans and sighs at the news that there would be still be final examinations for last year due to the most recent Battle of Hogwarts. It was to be expected, the muggleborn figured, having thought about the finals over the summer, since the last year was disrupted sooner than usual, but no less disappointing. At least there would still be enough time for him to catch up on his studies over the notes he took from the previous classes.

Nonetheless, Raphael joined the round of applause as Avery announced Henry and Rachel to be the new Head Boy and Head Girl of the year. Raphael didn't really care for Henry, but he still had respect towards Rachel, one of the few he felt he could trust in this school. However, the muggleborn noticed her pain and remembered that she wasn't so lucky compared to most other survivors of the earlier battle. Sharing in the mistrust many had towards Avery, and remembering that he was a possible suspect, Raphael suspected he did this on purpose slowed his clapping to a tap.

All those thoughts were suddenly swept aside with the sudden announcement of Career counselor which took Raphael by surprise as much as it did the other students. Raph watched as the woman walked to take Avery's place at the lectern, naming herself Ivana Karamazov with a thick Russian accent, and began taking questions. Any questions he had were already asked by Isolde. However, Raph did have one question that was sort of related. "Are you going to be recommending paths to take in order to achieve whatever carrier we may have in mind, Ms. Karamazov?" The muggleborn asked, which was really the only one he could think of related to the topic of career counseling.

[Britanania]

Karamazov

Hogwart's new counsellor looked around the room, answering some of the more innocuous questions, mostly from first and second-year students, before focusing her attentions on the Seventh Year groups. Karamazov looked over at Isolde and gave her a knowing smile.

"Ah, Miss Isolde Grrenvald, daughter of Lady Minister forr Interrnational Kooperration," she prefaced. "Da, ve vill hold interrviews," Karamzov said, "I suspect you vill follow in yourr mother's footsteps," she added as an aside, before turning her attention to Madi.

"Niet," she said with a headshake, "zat vill have niet bearrring." The young woman finally looked at Raphael. "Da ve vill konsider severral options."

"Any furrther questions?"

[Arlye Austros]

Isolde

Of course she knew who she was! This woman was sent in by the Highlord himself, so it would be no wonder she was aware of her mother. At least she was now sure of it. She gave her a nod, while also hinting a look in her face that there was need to cry out her name to the whole school as Karamazov answered her question.

She leaned close to David after Isolde got her answer.
“I must admit I am somewhat intrigued. What is the Highlord planning?” She muttered to her boyfriend before sitting back straight and watching Karamazov replying to Raph and Rachel.

Ricardo

He was, at this point, well over his initial shock at the lady’s similarity to his aunt. Her voice was certainly different, and to him, voice was self. One thing started to get in his mind, though. He already had chosen a path after Hogwarts. Yet he didn’t want the Ministry to know the full extent of it. Ricardo started considering he had already disclosed too much information in Caitie’s party. Why did he have to bring his cousin? Raph made a question relating career paths before the woman gave space for more. He came to realise that, like himself, Raph was also a foreigner. What did he plan for after school? He raised his hand.

“I take it that you are not British. Did you study at Hogwarts or elsewhere? I am just intrigued.” He added with a tone of humility, as he didn’t consider his question as important after he said it. His eyes also glimpsed very fast at the Headmaster. <<Headmonster Avery>>. Ricardo mutely chuckled at this thought, barely a second after he questioned the woman.

[Castriarta]

Yurij Abakumov Stralichetsya Uvistral

Yurij felt a tide of anxious energy swell into his chest as he stepped past the doorway to the Great Hall. The young wizard had to push past the instinct to freeze in place as his eyes met with the ranks of seated students. Ignoring the thumping of his heart and the dread that clung to his limbs at the thought of being in such a crowded area, Yurij stepped through the Hall and made his way to the Ravenclaw table, eager to take a seat and blend in more fully with the crowd. The wizard had been in a state of almost total isolation for the past few months, in the aftermath of the battle against the Ravencloaks -- although, of course, this was partly due to the lengthy time the boy had spent in a coma, barely clinging to life as he recovered from his injuries (both physical and psychological) at the hands of the school’s invaders. Now, thrust into a room full of so many people all at once, the seventh year student felt nearly overwhelmed. Despite all this, he managed a relatively cool exterior, gliding calmly to his chair, head bowed slightly and hands clasped in front of him. For any who could see past the curling dark hair that hung over Yurij’s features, however, the appearance of grace and poise would be disrupted: the young man’s eyes were wide and sharp, hardened in focus as his mind raced in paranoid anxiety.

Finally seated, the boy gazed around the room, scanning the student body with his dark gaze that seemed to pierce every minute detail of his surroundings, leaving nothing unnoticed. As he sat, his jaw and facial muscles twitched occasionally, reacting to twinges of blistering pain that ran over his back, chest, and arms every few moments. The skin on these parts of his body was still raw and sensitive, not fully recovered from when it was torn or burned off of him during the fight at the end of last year. It stung under the fabric of his robes, causing his muscles to tense and his body to straighten as he managed to mask the mild pain under an expressionless face, although he could not control the reactive twitches. Just as this pain ate its way silently over his flesh, a similar disruptive force was at work in his mind. His experience of the Cruciatis curse, alongside the emotional trauma of the battle, had left Anton with a fragile psyche after the isolated months of recovery. Dark fears and paranoid questions lingered at the edges of his thoughts, pulling them down unsteady pathways in shadowy corridors of his consciousness. Although still a fiercely intelligent young man, the Russian wizard was admittedly now a little… unhinged.

Yurij’s rambling stream of thought was pulled away from his suspicious attention on the rest of the student body, however, as the Headmaster apparated into the room, generated an apprehensive silence that spread over the assembled children and teens. Turning his focus to the podium, Yurij regarded Avery with a mystified intensity, as if the boy was not sure how to feel about anything the man had to say. A particularly unpleasant stab of pain tugged at the burnt skin on the back of Yurij’s shoulder as Headmaster Avery announced the new Headboy and Headgirl and was met by a roar of approval from the audience, causing Yurij to grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut for a moment. Finally, as the pain faded with the applause, Yurij exhaled sharply and opened his eyes, noticing that he had been holding his breath. His eyes were open now, but his expression remained strained, and the wizard had some trouble focusing on the unfolding events as Avery had the two new student leaders stand in front of their peers. Blinking his eyes as he managed to clear his head, Yurij studied Henry and Rachel’s faces and body language, a million questions and thoughts flooding into his head.

The boy’s intense look was trained once again on Avery as the Headmaster resumed his speech, recapturing the rest of the audience’s attention as well. Yurij’s face twitched minimally with half-concealed pain as another wave of stinging discomfort rolled up the scarred skin of his back, causing him to sit up straighter. When Avery finished his announcement Yurij’s expression scrunched with curiosity, and he turned slightly in his chair to watch as the newcomer entered the Hall. He followed her with his eyes, taking note of her unusual hair. When she spoke, he raised an eyebrow. She was Russian. Yurij found that interesting, and he was pleased by it. His people had their own magical traditions and customs that the wizards of the British Isles were not often familiar with, and he felt that perhaps he had discovered a kindred spirit who would share some elements of his worldview.

As the Hall broke into a chorus of questions, Yurij felt his anxiety rising again. The boy tensed at each new voice, his eyes casting back and forth between the speakers. His hands, which had been calmly clasped in front of him, move up to his forearms, and his grip tightened. The Ravenclaw did not like this commotion, and he found himself wishing to return to a quieter place to be alone with his thoughts and his pain, as he had become accustomed to over the last few months. Yurij had discovered after his torture that the only peace in this life was to be alone with one’s pain, and he grew increasingly frustrated and upset with things that got between him and that peace. His expression slowly turned to a scowl, and his head dipped toward the ground as he tried to calm himself, a burning sensation lighting up from the wounds on his chest.

[Segral]

Ed Wilson

"You have to understand, they're controlling us from up above!" Ed said indignantly, slamming his fork and knife into the tabletop hard enough to send a few drops of pumpkin juice sloshing out of his goblet. "If we continue to let them take control of us, control our lifestyle, control the way we operate, we might as well let them run the Ministry! Have you ever considered why we just blindly trust them to handle all of that...importance, why we just trust them to be clean and accountable? I've been inside their cursed fortress, I've seen how they work, how they move...they're not to be trusted. They're not what you think they a--"

"You were inside Azkaban?!" asked a first-year girl, her eyes practically growing saucer-size underneath her blonde bangs as she leaned over the table.

Ed, on his part, looked rather perplexed. "Azkaban? No, no, God forbid. I was talking about Gringotts." he said, the look of confusion only growing deeper on his face as the entire table collectively began to snicker and roll their eyes. "This isn't funny! Those goblins are some of the most corrupt pieces of slime I've had the displeasure of meeting. I wouldn't trust them holding on to a teddy bear, they might try to pawn that off on some unsuspecting foreign traveler for five Sickles and a Knut!"

"Come on man, have you ever had a goblin double-cross you?" replied a zitty fourth-year old somewhere to Ed's right, his knife hanging slightly threateningly in the air as he spoke. "They're a bit grubby, but my money's always been safe with them. I can't even remember the last time they've bungled up a vau--"

"That's the point!" Ed snapped back, furiously cutting into his pork chop with the ferocity of a bone saw in a massive huff. "It's too accurate. When Harry Potter was roaming the world, they kept getting broken into. Packages disappeared, Death Eaters' vaults were smashed into. And then, right after old Voldy kicks the bucket, it becomes airtight. Not a single coin disappears, every transaction is perfectly tracked, the old greenskins clean their fingers up. Not even any dust on the scales. It's fucking impossible."

"How can you tell? Have you been inside those vaults?" another boy challenged, a wiry, tall one with a thick mop of dark hair draped over his scalp.

"...No." Ed admitted, before suddenly hardening his jaw. "But over the summer, I landed a job in the exchange department. I worked the counters exchanging muggle currency for wizarding stuff, and tracked the numbers from my ledgers. You get every type of money in there. British money. American money. Chinese money. Indian money. Nigerian money, every damn type of money! Every day, you have to account for the fluctuations in the global value of every Muggle currency, cross-reference it with the value of the Galleon, do the calculations, and switch from customer to customer. In between seeing their legal documents. By hand. The Goblins have no idea what a Muggle dollar even looks like, so they expect you to figure it out. I was the best performer in my department, and even I must've made at least two or three mistakes a week."

"And?"

"There's no way it can all be perfect!" Ed yelled exasperatedly, stopping for a moment to inhale a chunk of pork. "I've seen hundreds of Galleons go missing from bad transactions and calculation mistakes. My boss, he would...he would ask me to look over bad calculations from the other works and write over them to make our losses look smaller. Fudge the numbers. Create money where there was no money. I thought that was why they were able to keep it all airtight, but then I realized that there had to have been people who slipped some files on the Daily Prophet's desk, people who got sick of the lies, but the Prophet never reported on any of that."

"Well, why's that?" the zitty boy asked, now looking a little bit interested in something besides his food.

"The goblins are in leagues with the press, the government, the institutions!" Ed said with a wicked light in his eyes, eliciting a collective groan from the table. "It's the only thing that makes sense! There's no goblins in the Ministry, no goblins in the news, and yet, they all ignore their dealings. The goblins bankroll everyone; they give out the loans, they hold the bank accounts, they hold a monopoly over all of the money in Diagon Alley and beyond, and they've got all of us under their thumb."

"Why should I believe you, loon?" the tall boy challenged, jutting his chin out at Ed to accompany his insult. "You've been talking nonsense since first year. How the hell does someone like you even get into Gringotts like in the first place, do they take running Gobstones Club as experience?"

"I'll put a Gobstone up your goddamn a--"

"Good evening."

Almost immediately, Ed's head snapped on a swivel to face the front of the Great Hall, and to face the new voice his delicate ears had picked up. He had trained himself to recognize his professors' and friendly castle ghosts' voices on cue, and he had gotten pretty good on that. If someone like Peeves caught him smuggling one too many Zonko's trinkets into the castle, then he just had to wrap up the fireworks up tight to make sure the force of falling on his face from a snatched carpet wouldn't set them off. If Avery caught him, he was cleaning Moaning Myrtle's toilet for the next week. This...this was a new voice. Russian. All "niet" and "da". And she was a...Career Counsellor? Why were they getting a woman who sounded like she had never stepped foot in the United Kingdom for more than a week to advise their careers? She wasn't bad looking, but seriously? Avery, you could do so much better. Whatever. Maybe a "Career Counsellor" would be helpful. The Gringotts job had been a way to test the waters and check out if he would ever want to spend any meaningful amount of time in that place, and he had gotten his answer very quickly. He needed a new path, and he had to figure out where he was going. Hogwarts had been fun, a little too fun at times, but now, it was time to move on to bigger and better things.

Ed raised his hand, not waiting for an acknowledgement before speaking out. "How exactly will these interviews work? Is there some new class for this getting added to our timetables, or is it more of a "see you when we can" thing?"

[United Democratic Christian States]

The feast went as as per usual, David took his seat next to Isolde and did not notice that their was an extra seat on the faculty table. Instead focusing on the upcoming meal as he was quite hungry.

Soon however things did get weird. Or did they? this was Avery after all. Odd moves to display power were almost par for the course at this point. Regardless Avery soon gave a rather worrying speech saying Rachel and Henry were headboy and headgirl and that they would be his *eyes and ears*. Which did concern David as those were the two heads of the actual student groups that were able to act independently of Avery's influence, even if not always without Avery's knowledge. Maybe this was his way of trying to control them as well? He looked over at Isolde and she looked as confused as he ways. All he could do was give a shrug back and mouth "lets ask Rach later" back to Isolde. Hopefully she would have some insight.

The craziness did not end there however. Soon a Russian lady was being introduced by Avery as a soon to be career counsellor. oh, lovely, lets all hand over our fates to the government. I'm sure they won't attempt to manipulate our life choices to better fit the current administration David thought sarcastically. Surely he felt this would not end well.

Once again Isolde leaned over to David after asking Karamazov her question.

"I don't know Luv, Hopefully this isn't just another way to keep those with reservations against the government in line by essentially controlling their life post Hogwarts."

[Britanania]

Karamazov

"Niet, I not Brritish," the blonde woman informed Ricardo with the shaking of her head. "I studied at Durrmstrrang, and Prrofessor Averry vas my instrructorr of Darrk Arrts," Karamazov continued, giving a slight gesture in the direction of Hogwart's current Headmaster before she scanned the room again for further questions. After answering a few more questions from younger classes, a hand shoot up from the Ravenclaw table as Ed asked his question.

"Interrviews vill be handled individually," she told him. " You may also kome in at any time."

[Arlye Austros]

Isolde

She smirked at David. “Oh, it would be a shame if they did. I am sure they are not like that at all.” Her remark came as obvious sarcasm. But then, she did think the same. And she was worried about speaking up to that. Isolde didn’t want to put her mother in danger. And David had already dealt with her own recklessness last year. Was she entirely willing to try to jump over Avery’s display now?

“Higgins, for the last time!” She muttered somewhat aloud at the trio of boys from before who were now chuckling once more, some seats beyond David. “If I have to go over there and deal with your bach-petty twp-scalps y’ all will hope to stay in St. Mungo!”

Show, don't tell? Never heard of it.

Sergio didn’t pay a lot of attention, despite Antonia’s insistence. The girl acted as an instructor handful of Students. They would have all been First Deck, if Sergio and Bastian weren’t… different. What one of the older amongst the crew had just told them both still echoed in his head, even as Laura announced they would go to the Isle that day, and instructed them to head for the boats.

“Checho, didn’t you hear me?” The girl stood before him, looking into his face as he sat on a roll of ropes and stared into the planks of the floor. He nodded but didn’t really look up. “Come on!” She said, still with a somewhat gentle, at least understanding tone. He understood it was Laura’s doing. Laura was older than him, by far, but she had acted as an adult sister to him. She told him he had known Hugo, but seldom spoke of him. Maybe Laura had asked Antonia, who was old enough to act as a teacher, to be kind to him? He looked up to her and forced a smile.

“We are going to land?”
“North Ronaldsay.” She repeated the name of the island. “We will practice the Light-Manipulation Charm on the old lighthouse.”
Sergio nodded again and stood up from his precarious seat, walking through the deck towards the rowboats that were magically pulled up by the branch-like poles that bent their twigs-like fingers, acting as pulleys for a rope that now raised the boat. Mauricio looked back on him, smirking. Sergio frowned, but didn’t say anything.

“You two freaks shouldn’t even be here. Who knows what stuff your masters taught you? The Elders should just send you ashore and leave you somewhere else, away from us.” Mauricio and another boy nicknamed <<Lelio>> had stopped them on the stairway leading to the deck before they had their class. Bastian and Sergio couldn’t push through Lelio, who blocked the way.
“We don’t call them like that anymore, remember?”

Sergio vaguely remembered them both. He could recall their scared faces as he patrolled between the bunks. They all had the same face. They were all terrified. Sergio also vaguely remember what he thought then. He didn’t have a choice, but had he been given one, other than to serve Kraska… No, he had to get that feeling off his mind. It was all a lie, an illusion they used to control him without a lot of effort. Sergio knew better now. Perhaps they knew? Perhaps that is why they hated Sergio, Bastian and every other former Invunche so much? Could they feel the hatred they had for everybody?
But that was impossible.

“Right… They are not so old now. So what? They should still throw you off board.”
“Let us through!” Sergio protested, trying to push through Lelio’s arm to keep climbing the stair. But Mauricio grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him back and against the wall of the staircase, making the wood to squeal as he smashed on it. Somehow the sound it reminded Sergio of a wounded animal.

“Come to think of it, you are not that strong now. Maybe we can shove you off to the sea ourselves… What do you say, Lelio? Will they float?”
Sergio had enough, and pushed Mauricio back. This time the other boy ended against the opposite wall of the stairway, and the squeal of the planks came from across. He realised it was strong enough of a push to leave Mauricio without breath, as he bent forward and hugged himself, trying to breath. Lelio reacted by grabbing Sergio by the collar of his tunic and pushing him back on the wall.

“Stop it you all! What is the meaning of this?!?” The voice caused Lelio to let him go. Bastian and Sergio both recognised it, vaguely. The black-haired woman walked up to them from the base of the stairway.
“W- Who are you?” Mauricio asked, leaning on the railing on his side of the passage as he pushed himself up, able to breathe once more.
“One of the parents. I am delivering news. What is the meaning of this? Who are your parents?” A lie, Sergio knew. That was not one of the parents. She wasn’t even human. The four boys were silent for a while. The woman reached the steps right below them and looked into their eyes. Sergio felt as though she was gripping his throat with her gaze. “Well?”
“I have no parents…” Mauricio replied, staring down to her feet. “And I think Lelio’s dad’s missing.”

Sergio noticed the woman nodded slightly while looking at Mauricio answered back. “How would you know that? You were on this ship all along the war, weren’t you?” The woman sentenced. “I will tell the Seekers to find your parents, and I will let them know you were attacking these two. You both should be ashamed. Now go out there before I tell Antonia too!”
Lelio grabbed his friend and they both headed to the door leading to the outside of the deck. Bastian and Sergio were still in front of the woman.
“Hostages…” She said even when they didn’t ask. “If they were kept it is because they were of some use.” Lucero’s voice softened. “Go.”

Even when that inhuman presence reassured Sergio and threatened Mauricio and Lelio, their attitude towards the Returned, as people in that ship would often call those who were cured from the Invunche curse, didn’t seem to improve. And that made Sergio think again about the time he was assigned to keep an eye on the Hostages. Those who even too young to be enrolled in the Lucerna as First Deck students were taken away from their families to ensure their loyalty to the Province. Sergio could still remember his own hatred for himself, his family and society as a whole ready and eager to outpour on those boys, should the command be given. He could feel himself impetuous to punish them for some crime he didn’t even know.
He had been just as bad as the Province, he realised as he sunk his face between his arms, feeling the rocking of the Northern Sea on the boat that made its way to dry-land.

“Are there no Muggles around?” The only girl in their group, Brígida, asked Antonia. The woman sat at the fore of the rowboat, which moved propelled by the Lucerna itself, drawn by the current to the island. She looked at the girl.
“No. That’s an old lighthouse, abandoned and only kept for tourists… But there will be no tourists today, I made sure of it. We should be at peace for the entire evening.” Antonia rose his voice now, and Sergio was snatched out of his thoughts. “Still! Don’t do any ruckus while we are at it. I don’t need no Ministry of Magic on our backs because you kids decided to set some fireworks or something. Understood?”

Sergio nodded and looked at the sea. There were clouds all around them, but the sun still pierced through, flashing into the rains in the western horizon. The sea wasn’t terribly brisky, but it made the boat swing on and back against the waves, splashing every few cycles into their faces. Their dark-blue robes fluttered to the wind, and it kept doing so as they stepped off the boat, which pushed itself even over the sand, so that they could land relatively dry. The wind picked up.

“Alright. Follow me to the lighthouse.” Antonia commanded after checking the surroundings. The five students followed her in a line through the sand of the small beach between rocky outcrops that seemed to cover most of the shore. They then climbed a small slope in a couple of steps and stood on a dusty road that ran parallel to the coast. To their left there were some wooden cabins. Probably for the coastguards on a better season. To the left there was a stone-made lighthouse with equally stony dwellings built aside. Beyond the road there was a meadow, and only some steps beyond a lake that seemed to reach almost to the other side of the isle, as if the sea had somehow overflown and a part of it remained to keep its conquest. They didn’t say anything as they walked to the lighthouse, except Bastián, who muttered to him.

“Thanks for helping me, by the way.”
“The Returned should help each other.” He replied. The wind cloaked any conversation as both boys were at the end of the line.
“Still, you didn’t have to. Do you think She felt us and appeared to help us out?”
Sergio shrugged.
“I think she did.” Bastian cleared his own doubts. “But I couldn’t help feeling sorry for Mauricio.”
“Me neither.” Though Sergio did not want to. “They are as victims as we are.”

The group reached the lighthouse, and Antonia used her wand to open the door. Inside the wind did a strange sound, probably as it whistled and howled through the upper set of windows. “Alright. Let’s climb.” She told them, pointing towards the stairs that went on through the wooden ceiling. Once they reached the upper side of the ceiling, barely a floor above, they noticed the spire climbed up several other floors, and that the wind was indeed howling through the openings and slits on the brick-made cylinder, as a climbing symphony of voices claiming for something. Sergio tried not to cower a bit at the idea of wraiths haunting that place.

“Looks abandoned since very long.” Brígida pointed out, waving at some crates that seemed piled on one of the sides of the second floor, and some old-looking beds were standing near them, with cob starting to veil down from them.
“It has. I believe the local community can’t afford the tourist program, so they just shut this thing down. It’s been without visits for at least a year, and a couple more since anyone cared to clean it up.”
“That’s just sad.” Bastian remarked while the boys headed to the second set of stairs. Lelio repeated the phrase but distorting the voice. To Sergio it sound ghoulish.
“Shut it!” Antonia intervened before anyone could say anything. “Let’s just go up there, please!” Her voice now denoted frustration and a clear need to be done with this class. “Now, I want you all to remember the lesson on the Light-Manipulation charm. It is seemingly simple. It is somewhat simple, but it has no room for errors. You either do it perfect or nothing happens.”

Antonia kept reminding them some points about the Light-Manipulation charm, but once more Sergio was thinking of something else. He should have had this class a year before. At least he thought he should have. Not that he terribly wanted to. When he was healed, back in the Cave of Thunders, he didn’t notice for a day, but then looked at the mirror and realised that it didn’t make sense that it had been a year since he was gone. He didn’t grow one bit. He was told the Returned retained their age from the moment they were taken. And when they came back they also came stronger. Once more he recalled how he shoved Mauricio across the passage in one push, despite being rather small compared to him.
They reached the upper part, and Sergio realised he didn’t hear anything Antonia said.

“Very well. I will light the lantern, and one after another you will divert the light towards the ship, up over there.”
They were inside a glassy gallery. At the centre there was the lantern, a bronze cage covered in thick crystal. The glass around them separated the inside of the gallery from a balcony that made a ring overlooking the sea. Antonia opened a crystal door and walked out to the coming storm. The students followed her. “Please be careful not to fall over. I really don’t want to come back with one less kid.”

Bastian chuckled and said a joke Sergio didn’t quite hear, but it did made everyone, even Mauricio, to crack a smile. He felt the incipient rain starting to come to them with the wind. Sergio donned his hood on, and the others did the same, even Antonia, who waved her wand. The lighthouse came to life, the roaring of some hidden engine announcing its resurrection. The lantern flickered and then turned on, and then it began to turn, spinning once every five or six heartbeats.
“Don’t stare at it, you will go blind or something!” Their instructor warned them. Sergio blinked and looked away before the heat of the flash struck the side of his face.

“Won’t anybody see this?” he asked Antonia, but she smiled, and pointed to the air around them.
It seemed as though there was an invisible dome around the lighthouse, made of some fine glass that was beyond sight, if it wasn’t for the light itself, at it seemed to burn into the dome with every turn. The flash was absorbed by the invisible barrier, which seemed to be tainted by green and pink hues, which then vanished, as a wound that healed too fast for a distracted viewer. Sergio admired the miracle as Antonia explained it. “This is a very advanced containment, so please be mindful of it. You will use the Light-Manipulation Charm to halt the flash between the dome and the lantern. Then you will attempt to move it through an opening atop the dome, and illuminate the ship, which is over there on the sea.” She said, first pointing to an invisible spot just above the lighthouse, then to the ship, which was floating at a distance like a toy ship in the waves. “I’ve laid some mirrors on the deck, so they should tell us if you hit the spot. Ready? Bestián, you first.”

The boy gulped loudly, at least to Sergio, who stood just next to him. Sergio eyed the other two boys, who smirked at each other. Bastián didn’t see them, and drew out his wand, making the motion Antonia taught them before. “Again! The beam is strong and you don’t have a lot of time, so be patient and try on the next turn.” Antonia said after Bastián failed, and he waited for the lantern to turn.
“Lumina Suffero.” He uttered, but the lantern still drew its arch, tainting the invisible barrier with little effect.
“You need to focus on the way you will lead the light, and move the wand a bit slower… Wait for the next one!” Antonia instructed once more. Bastian waited and repeated. Another failure, and the frustration was marked in his face, but kept trying.

“You gotta give it to them. The Returned are stubborn like the beasts they are.” Lelio said loud enough for Sergio to listen. Bastian managed to delay the light a bit this last time. Sergio turned to them.
“You both need to shut up about it. I am being serious.”
He knew he had picked the bait, but he didn’t care anymore. Mauricio made a wicked smile.
“Or what? You are calling your brother?”

Sergio couldn’t make a reply. Brígida heard it and seemed confused, walking towards them.
“Didn’t know you had a brother…” She said. But Mauricio looked back at her.
“That’s rude! You should tell her, Sergio.”

Sergio was shaking, and he knew they knew. How could they have any idea about Hugo?

Bastián seemed to have succeeded, as there was a gap in the line that the lantern burnt through the dome, and there was a sound, like a spinning wheel gaining speed, humming over their heads. Antonia seemed as successful as her pupil. “Great! Now on to the exit up there! And straight to the ship!”
Bastián looked at the bay and seemed to aim. It got Brígida’s attention for a second, but Sergio was still shacking.

“Looks like your animal brother has a wit or two…” The remark that Lelio came just flamed Sergio inside. “Maybe he would beat your brother in a fight… Oh, that’s right… He’s fish bait n-”

Sergio didn’t yell at him, didn’t tell him to stop or warned. He didn’t even want to. He just wanted to harm Lelio. He just wanted to fulfil the command to beat the Hostage, to cause him pain, to cause him to die. His little stature lifted Lelio’s oversized mass. He was nearly blind as he grunted, pushing Lelio towards the edge, and against the railings.

“Die!” He yelled now, and surprisingly, the boy’s body twisted the railing, which bent back and snapped on one side. Lelio reached Sergio’s collar, stopping his fall as he cried out for help. Sergio himself also fell, but he reached for the railing, which made a twisting sound as it sustained their weight. Sergio wasn’t done yet.
With his spare hand he grabbed the one holding him by the collar, and began squishing it, until Lelio cried again and let go. Now he was the only thing keeping the bully alive. Then a flash from the ship.
“No! Hang on!” Antonia screamed. Sergio snapped back from it, and realised he was not going to hold both of them for a second more. He yelled himself as he pulled Lelio up, allowing him to grab on to the railing.

“Hold on!” Antonia waved her wand a second later, and both boys were suspended on the air, then landed on the balcony. Sergio gasped for air, Lelio shook and cried and Mauricio, Bastián and Brígida were pale and speechless. Antonia had some semblance of control over herself.
“What the fuck did you both do?” She demanded to know as she knelt between them and checked it they had any injury. Sergio knew Lelio’s hip had a crack. He felt it as he pushed through the railings.
“You are both in trouble. You know that?”

Sergio blinked and stared at Lelio, who was still shaking while laying right in front of him. He looked back.
“Don’t know what happened. I wasn’t going to let you die.”
That seemed to scare the other boy even more in between his pain. Antonia didn’t say a thing and stood up before levitating Lelio from the floor.

~~~

“Antonia is furious, I tell you that.” Laura frowned at Sergio as the boy toyed with the soup in front of him. They both sat on an almost empty Dinning Hall. It had been remodelled after the battle, but some scars remained, like the crack on a side of the wooden wall, caused by a cursed cannonball. “I don’t think she will take you in her class in a while. She will deal with Lelio and Mauricio, but you crossed a line. Are you even listening to me?”
Sergio looked up to her and nodded.
“You will be lucky if she even takes you back, actually. Damn it, Checho! I know it’s not easy, but I vouched for you.”
“You did it for Hugo.” He muttered in protest. “Not for me.”

Laura didn’t reply, and when he looked back at her, it seemed to Sergio she was hurt. “I am sorry…”
But the girl hardened her face. “Even if I did, which I didn’t. You should show some respect for that.” She said before standing up and storming out of the Dinning Hall. Sergio followed her with the gaze, knowing she wouldn’t turn back or allow him to catch up with her, and when she vanished his shoulders dropped in resignation after he pushed aside the bowl. He felt awful now, and only thought about it since then.

“Mauricio’s going to get back to you, you know?” Brígida sat where Laura had a second before. Or was it minutes? How long had he been alone? He looked around and the Dinning Hall was empty except for one Deck Four student who munched an apple while reading a book, Brígida and himself. “He’s been ranting about how he wants to duel you for leaving Lelio in recovery.”

“How is he?” He enquired while feeling the bowl to confirm it was cold already.
“I would saw between furious and just plain mad.”
“I mean Lelio…” He cracked a smile. She did too.
“Oh… He will be fine. A broken hip. But he is scared beyond that. I even think I smelled his fear. But don’t tell him that.”
That last was with a tone of petty, he could tell. He understood why she felt like that. But he felt he didn’t want to feel petty for the boy who kept insulting his brother. He called Hugo “fish bait”! He hated him! Just like he hated him when he had to patrol the bunks of the Hostages.
“I won’t.” He remembered that one time Hugo stood up for him, smacking a kid with a book.
“So…” The boy who had been reading a book was done with the apple and walked to them. He felt vaguely familiar. “You are the one who told my cousin were to find Funkel, right?”

Sergio nodded and Jacinto smiled and sat next to Brígida, who seemed confused.
“I heard he found you.” Sergio replied. He didn’t smell any blood this time. “So I suppose one thing led to the other?”
“I am sorry…” Brígida asked, looking at Jacinto. “Who are you?”
“Jacinto Devuelto.” He said with a somewhat flamboyant pride. “Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to give something to our friend here. She told me you had seen these before.”

Jacinto produced from his pocket a bundle of cloth, placed it on the table and unwrapped it. Inside there was a yellow-green faint glow, as the stone within seemed to reflect some light that was not really there. It was almost bronze like, but had crystalline spots like small windows, through which the light seemed to reflect. Sergio recalled that stone.
“I thought this was just in the Big House…” he said reaching to it. Brígida also seemed to remember.
“This brings me memories. From the day the Lucerna took us to that cave. I thought this was entirely gone.”

And it didn’t add up. He didn’t recall seeing Jacinto in the House of Thunders. Sergio looked at him. “Did your cousin save some of this stone?”
Jacinto nodded.
“Then how?”
Sergio grabbed the stone, shaped like a triangle, and examined it. Soon he felt entirely absorbed by intrigue, forgetting that he had been brooding just a moment before.
“Not everything was lost there.” Jacinto replied. “And even lost things can be recovered. Just like us both.”

[Miekzhemy]

Co-written w/ Skylus

Derek Forester
Madi Goodwill
Rachel Ackerley

---

Later
Seventh Floor - Gryffindor Tower

Derek found himself lying on the couch in the Gryffindor common room, waiting for Rachel to show up. Part of him didn’t believe he was free from that cell, yet he knew he was. His gaze moved from the ceiling above to the table before the couch, focusing on his new wand. Blackthorn, dragon heartstring, ten inches. He supposed it suited him well. Somehow no one had asked why he was wearing a school uniform from around thirty years ago.

Derek had been one of the first to leave the Great Hall after all of the announcements and he had been up in the common room ever since. He really didn’t want to think about studying for the exams at the moment. He just wanted to talk to someone, just physically see people.

Although the opening feast and dinner was over, it was still a while before the lot of them had to think about retiring for the night. Minutes passed as the throngs of Gryffindors passed through, some of them newly-sorted First Years continuing to express their awe at the magnificence of the castle. Idle conversations regarding quidditch or the upcoming examinations sprang up left and right, until their respective participants went their separate ways - be it down the halls or up to their dorms. And while the Common saw its surges of traffic and activity, none seemed keen to disturb the haggard student that lounged quietly on the couch.

Soon enough though, he could hear footsteps slowly stepping up to the sofa he laid upon.

"Oi," Derek recognized Rachel's voice. She was leaning against the back of the couch, looming over him. He silently examined Rachel for a few seconds, then slowly got up from the couch and walked around it to stand before the young woman.

“So. Survivors of a war and the adults don’t seem to even care about us. Ricardo probably told you what happened to me. I don’t think I should ask how you’ve been, considering your current condition.” His voice was subdued and quiet, he also looked like he severely needed a hug.

“Avery doesn’t care,” she said flatly. “That’s been clear since he first showed up.”

Now that he was stood up, the witch looked him over, regarding primarily his hair which was now absurdly long.

“Christ, and I thought I looked run ragged. You look like shit…”

Rachel collected her thoughts again, her solemn gaze looking off towards the fireplace for a time. “I haven’t talked to the lot of them yet,” she recalled. “Figured, since you’re finally out, I might as well ask you myself. Are you alright?”

“Does it look like it?”

“Sorry... stupid question. Probably safe to say no one is. What’d he…?” she paused, seemingly trying to find the right words. “...do to you? If you’re not, y’know…uncomfortable talking about it, of course.”

Derek sighed. “I need to tell someone other than Ricardo.” He stepped closer to her, then gently pulled Rachel into a hug, being extremely mindful of her current condition as he wrapped his pale arms around her and buried his face into a shoulder. “I haven’t seen a living person for most of the summer… I was in a padded cell in the Department of Mysteries, got water and bread - or meat whenever I was a wolf - every eight hours, and it was self cleaning. That’s all I’m going to say about that. The cell was in near total darkness… Guess you could say I have a lot of phobias now. Those bastards snapped my wand in front of me when they let me out of that cell two days ago, then beat me up and literally threw me out onto the street. Got a room at the Leaky Cauldron sometime yesterday, then got a new wand from Ollivander… He gave it to me for free, and wouldn't accept any payment.”

He had more or less let everything out - the months of suffering that he had endured, all dumped upon her in a single broken tirade. Rachel made no attempt to maneuver out of his weak embrace, seeing it fit to simply let him talk. It was obvious that he was in pain, but she never realized the extent of the ordeal he faced. The witch slowly hung her head. He could not see it on account of his face being buried into her shoulder, but even she seemed to fight off tears.

"My God, I--" she choked out, momentarily clearing her throat. Her tone of voice no longer held that hint of seriousness and sarcasm when they typically spoke with one another. It was soft - not with pity, but with a genuine air of sympathy for their shared pain. "I had no idea. You...didn't even seem like yourself, I..."

Rachel shifted for a split second, weaseling her good arm out of the school cloak that was draped over her uniform. She gently wrapped it around him, opting to return his embrace for as long as he needed.

"I'm sorry, Derek..."

Derek didn’t know how long he hugged Rachel for but he eventually drew back a bit and looked down at her. “Thank you. Did… you have anything else to talk to me about?”

“Yeah,” she swallowed hard, taking a second to wipe her eyes. “It’s about quidditch. I erm…” Rachel briefly showed her bad arm to him, carefully rolling the sleeve up enough to reveal the bandages that trailed up her forearm from the palm of her hand. “Goes up to the shoulder, and even my chest too. And the leg, well… that goes without saying.”

“Simply put, I can’t play like this... Not right now, at least.”

“Some part of me wants to see the full extent of your injuries.” He paused, then shook his head. “No, no, that was stupidly inconsiderate of me, forget I even said anything.” Derek hugged Rachel again, his head resting on her shoulder. “I’m not up to being captain either… I might take your place for a while and have someone else be Seeker.” After a few seconds, he muttered something like “you smell nice.” It was just an observation… except considering what had happened to Derek, maybe it was more than that.

“Alright, alright,” Rachel said a bit more bluntly now. She gently pushed away after a moment, hiding the sudden embarrassment. “Don’t get weird on me.”

Derek then realized what he had said and he wrapped his cloak around him tighter, then looked away from Rachel. “...Sorry… If… If I act weird or romantic towards you or anyone else, I might just be getting used to being around people again… might be more observant… It’s going to take a while for me to… I don’t know, act somewhat normal…”

The witch snorted. “Like you were any more normal before, you loon,” she let out a chuckle, forgetting that doing so was arguably as painful as trying to run. She put a hand to her chest for a second. “Ah-- shit!” she shrugged it off, at this point completely forgetting what she was going to ask a minute ago. “Look, you pull that rubbish, if the person you’re talking to doesn’t smack you across the face, Madi will.”

“And I would.”

Derek turned to see Madi standing nearby, holding something wrapped in some sort of parcel. “I brought you food, happened to overhear the conversation… I haven’t heard from you at all…”

He took the food parcel from Madi and started opening it. “What’s in here?”

“Meats, cheeses, and breads. You look half starved.”

“Technically I am…” He noticed the curious, worried look Madi was giving him and sighed. “You might want to sit down.” Madi did so on the couch and he joined her, then told her everything.

[Skylus]

Second half of collab written with Miek

Madi clearly didn’t know how to respond to it all. “I...I had no idea… they had no right to do that, Derek… Did you do something that caused that to happen, were you’d framed for something…?”

“...Avery asked that I work for him on his estate due to the cottage being on his land. I did so, but the stable master and game warden seemed to have it out for me. I was… treated poorly…” He paused for a second. “Eventually I snapped one day, around a month after the battle, and knocked out the game warden after he tried to kill a Selkie. Then I ran off… There’s a river that cuts through Caitie’s estate and I crossed it, then fled into the nearby woods. Avery sent his Boarhounds after me, I killed a few in self defense as a wolf, couldn’t really fight them normally, then I thought the cottage had caught fire and when I returned, it was an illusion … but then I was caught, sentenced, and thrown in that cell and there I stayed until two days ago.”

Rachel stood quietly behind them, leaning herself against the back of the couch to take a bit of weight off her leg. She let out a soft sigh as Derek further explained how things even came to pass. All in all, he probably deserved it, but the witch decided not to say it outright. It was painfully obvious how terrible he felt already. Her mind wandered, until suddenly she remembered what she wanted to mention in the first place.

“Uhm-- Hey. As I was about to say earlier,” she said to Derek, seemingly attempting to lighten the mood somewhat. “I don’t think you should drop out of quidditch. Me...I don’t really have much of a choice right now, but you? You’ve held the Lions together well enough the past few seasons. Maybe focusing back onto quidditch would help take your mind off things?”

The witch allowed him to give it some thought, before continuing. “That being said, I’ve got something that might just change your mind. One second...”

Straining herself to push off of the couch, Rachel shuffled towards the girls’ dorms. She sluggishly ascended the stairwell until she was out of sight, leaving them alone for a time.


Madi, however, opted to walk into the girls’ dorms sometime later. She leaned against the doorway, looking Rachel over. “Hi. They give an approximate estimate as to when you’ll be mostly healed?”

“I don’t know,” Rachel said immediately, not even looking up from the large chest she rummaged through at the end of her bed. “Could be weeks. Could be months. The scars, though? Probably never.”

She rooted around a little more, pushing an assortment of clothes and other random school supplies out of the way. “Strout emphasized the need to build my strength back. Bit of walking here and there to get used to the leg, getting a bit more lost weight back, all that sort of stuff.”

Madi nodded. “Anything I can do to help?”

Rachel stood up straight, even the act of bending over to dig through the chest causing noticeable discomfort. “Erm...I don’t know,” she shrugged a bit. “Help re-dress the bandages or something? Took me damn near an hour and a half to do it myself when I first got discharged…”

The witch paused for a second, cracking a sly smirk. “And...probably a bit less awkward than asking Andy to do it, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Madi nodded. “Do… you want to do that now or later?”

“Oh, God no,” she almost interrupted, going back to searching her chest. “I did that this morning already-- There it is.”

Rachel reached deep into the chest, almost looking like she was reaching under the floor. Probably an enchantment of some sort. She gripped something large and strained herself to pull it out of the pile of rubbish inside.

When she stood back up, she held in her hand a broomstick - her Thunderbolt.

Madi blinked. “You’re giving him your broomstick?” Rachel shut her chest, looked back, and smiled.

“You’re damn right I am. C’mon,” she said, marching proudly back down the stairwell.
Rachel returned into the lobby of the Common, using the broom as a pseudo-walking stick. Madi followed her and stood back a bit, allowing her to talk to Derek.

“Oi!” she called out on her way back to the couch.

Derek looked back and then got up.

“What are you doing with your Thunderbolt?”

“Here’s what I want you to do, Derek,” Rachel said matter-of-factly. “I want you,” she pointed at him. “To take this,” she extended the broom handle out to him.

“And I want you to kick, Henry’s, ARSE when the season starts. Or...whoever the Lions are playing, that is...”

Derek took the broomstick from Rachel, and grinned.

“I can do that.”

“Good. And you keep that broom, too,” she continued. “I went back to my old Cleansweep after I swapped off of beater to guard the goalposts. Remember though, that’s the Thunderbolt Eight. Very fucking fast. So don’t...y’know, smash into anything at top speed and kill yourself, yeah?”

Derek slowly nodded, looking the broomstick over. “...Thank you.”

“Whatever happened to your old broom?”

Derek eyed Madi. “I don’t know. It wasn’t at the cottage when I went back there yesterday.”

“Jesus, glad I gave that to you then…” Rachel stifled another laugh before she managed to hurt herself again. “Would be pretty hard to win when your seeker’s got no bloody broom.”

“Do you think anyone would mind if I was out there flying around before classes tomorrow?”

Rachel scratched at the back of her neck. “Uhm… I think it’s best to say no on that end for now. I know just about as much about the aurors as you lot, but probably best not to test the waters. Especially after what you just got out of.”

Derek nodded. “I might talk to Sedwig and Pomfrey… see if they can somehow help me get physically back to normal… as for everything else, I don’t know….”

“Hey,” Rachel piped up, letting her hand finally rest under the cover of her cloak again. “Chin up. Things will quiet back down in time. Darkenstone’s gone. The Death Eaters are gone. The Muggleborn terrorists that made life a living hell for everyone here? They’re gone too. As far as what’s been thrown at us…?”

She looked between him and Madi for a second.

“We won.”

“...Did we really, though?” Derek questioned. “Everyone that’s been here since we were first years has gone through what we went through. Sure, we survived, most of us, but as for dealing with it all? We’re on our own.”

A pause set in. Rachel opened her mouth to speak, but found herself to have no answer. The brunette witch looked down at the floor as she pondered her next words. He was right. And all of them knew it. She closed her eyes.

“As much as I want to deny that,” she began, her voice returning to its softer, more serious tone. “I’d be straight up lying to your face.

“The lot of us have...seen things. Experienced things over the years. Horrible things that a muggle our age would never even need to think about. Every single one of us, too. Caitie, Raph, Andy… and I could probably name a hundred more. And every year-- Every damned year… we come into the Hall, and have to act like nothing had happened. Even Dad’s mentioned at times how terrible it was back in ninety-eight. It doesn’t even compare to what both he and us have to see now...”

She went on, only able to give a half-hearted shrug. “As comforting as might be to say we’re all in this together, it doesn’t feel… like something to be proud of anymore.”

Madi spoke up. “Despite my dislike of the man, I feel sorry for Avery. I think he was in the battle of ninety eight, all of this must be a living hell for him.”

“Look…” Rachel addressed them both. “I’m not saying you have to like him. Frankly, he’s a scumbag. Avery - and all the gits you see running the Ministry now - they’re fed up. Sick of the shit. And to be completely honest, after putting up with it for six bloody years, I’m tired too.”

She paused again, remembering something. “Though I’m hoping that, in time, he may lighten up. As dreadful as my new position will probably be, I wonder if I could talk him into lifting some of these little...policies of his. Y’know...like the mirrors…”

“...or the statues in the dorms,” she gritted her teeth. “Fucking weirdo, he is…”

Madi glanced at a nearby gargoyle statue. “I bet he can see and hear us right now. Wouldn’t be surprised if he comes up to talk to us or sends an Auror up here.”

“For what?” Rachel snickered, poking fun at the idea as a whole. “Getting mad because he can watch the kids in the dorms?” she jutted a thumb towards the girls’ dormitories. “I don’t think we’ve uncovered the mirror in our dorm since the start of Sixth Year! You haven’t been changing in front of that bloody thing, I hope?”

“No.” Madi shook her head. “Great, we need to warn the newcomers about it, don’t we.”

“It’d probably be funny, if anything. The dorms might be safe though. Because God forbid a parent finds out about something like that. I wonder if that’s legal..?”

Rachel crossed her arms underneath her cloak, smirking at the thought. “But hey, you never know. Honestly, that’s probably the way Avery wants it. Paranoia. Keeps you guessing. Keep the mirror covered though, just in case...”

Derek decided to speak up. “Do you know when the next group meeting will be?”

“No idea,” she said immediately. “Though I’m betting that’s half the reason Avery’s called me up to his office. I’ll...figure that out once I get back from talking to him.”

“...What is he even thinking, having us take exams anyway after what happened?” Derek looked out the nearest window at the Quidditch pitch.

“Didn’t you hear me before? As far as he’s concerned, we’re just picking up where we left off, remember?”

Rachel flashed a sarcastic grin as she said that. She turned for the exit corridor, giving Madi a brief pat on the shoulder. “On that note, I’m off to go see him,” she said. “Here’s to hoping he doesn’t tear me a new one. Will you two be alright?”

Madi gave her friend a small smile. “I think so. We’ll get through this somehow.”

The cloaked witch nodded to her, and briefly leaned in to whisper out of Derek’s earshot.

“Handle him with a bit of care, by the way. He’s...a little fucking out of it, I think…”

With that, Rachel shuffled off, making her way up the stairwell to the Fat Lady’s portrait. “Good night.”

Madi watched as Rachel left the common, then looked back at Derek.

“So… what now?”

Derek started walking towards the boy’s dorm. “Well, I for one, am going to eat the food parcel you gave me, then go to bed and try to figure things out in the morning.”

Madi nodded and looked on as he vanished from view after climbing the stairs, then moved over to the nearby window and leaned against it. “...I just hope we survive this year.” After a while, she headed to the girls’ dorms and went to bed.

[Miekzhemy]

Co-written w/ Brit

Rachel Ackerley
Headmaster Avery

---

Later that night

She had been dreading this part for the entire evening.

Rachel sluggishly descended the magnificent Grand Staircase on her way back from the seventh-floor, the clack of her shoes against the shifting marble stairwell sending echoes down the enormous hollow chamber with each passing step. She initially believed it wouldn't be much of a problem, but now that the Gryffindor found herself marching up seven floors with that damned leg only to head straight back down a few minutes later, she could tell it was going to be a rough year. Despite not even lugging around her tomes and other miscellaneous supplies, she could already feel the pain and exhaustion taking its toll.

A million questions were racing through the witch's head as she walked, thankfully keeping her mind off the dull numbness that crept up her thigh. As far as she could tell, Avery hadn't requested Henry to his office as well, meaning this likely had little to do with her newly appointed position. And he clearly cared little about her current condition. What did he want with her now, she wondered...

A relief came as Rachel finally found herself stepping off the stairwell into the second floor corridors, the flat, level ground having proven itself much easier for her to walk on. The halls were largely devoid of activity, as the majority of students had already retired to their common rooms. Most of the portraits she passed were drifting off to rest, with the occasional restless one hissing insults at the marching witch interrupting their beauty sleep. She opted to tread more quietly, until eventually turning into the Gargoyle Corridor - a long, windowed hallway that served as the imposing passage to the Headmaster's Tower.

In a way, it was almost haunting to see it again. The entire office and the corridor itself had been rebuilt since her fifth year, down to the minute detail. Any soul that had no idea what unfolded back then wouldn't have thought twice. But she knew. She remembered it all too well. She and Derek had raced up there as fast as their animagus forms could carry them. That lone student, placing that unknown package just outside McGonagall's office...

They could still remember the frightened look on his face before it all went up in flames.

As Rachel crept closer to the double doors of Avery's office, she noticed there was no longer the sapient gargoyle standing guard to allow her entry.

Not a gargoyle, but an auror.

He stood just about as imposing as any of the ones she noticed around the castle, casually patrolling the hallways with little caution in their step. In their defense, it did seem like the most boring job in Britain. Thankfully, the ones at the castle had largely ditched the helmets for the time being. In fact, now that she could see their faces, this guard in particular looked younger than she expected. A recent graduate, perhaps. The man's arms were folded behind his back, standing rigid and unmoving like some sort of Queen's Guard. When she reached a certain distance from the doors, however, the auror reached out, and began to tug one of the doors open.

"...Thank you," the witch muttered below her breath on her way through. Dad was clear in his instruction not to speak to them, but such responses were primarily out of habit. Still, though, the figure remained silent.

With a soft sigh, Rachel stepped into the office, managing to avoid flinching as the door was promptly closed behind her.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts was sitting in his chair as a House Elf was serving him tea. Avery rose when Rachel entered the room.

“Miss Ackerley,” his prim and proper voice droned. “Please, sit.”

“Sir,” was all she said, nodding her head out of acknowledgement before stepping over to one of the lounge chairs before his desk. The little confidence she had was steadily draining out of her in the midst of the almost tranquil silence of his office. There was a peculiar tension in the air, like she could cut it with a knife. Rachel opted to remain silent for now, and waited patiently for him to speak.

“Would you like something to drink?” he casually asked, motioning towards the House Elf who brought a tray of drinks and snacks for the half-blood witch. She settled into a more comfortable position, and took a short breath.

“I...wouldn’t object, sir. I suppose.”

The Elf laid the tray down on the table, containing a glass bottle of Coca-Cola along with a bowl of Walkers and chocolate pudding. Rachel blinked.

“I hope everything is to your liking,” Avery said with a grin.

Suddenly, the realization hit her like a train.

To say the assortment of muggle snacks and drink left the witch absolutely floored was a colossal understatement. Certainly there was no way. Such things would certainly have been contraband, right? And with the school under its new management, the consequences for possession of muggle devices and the like were even more dire. Rachel leaned forward and, with her good arm, slowly reached for the bowl and plucked one of the bite-sized crisps from the top, before taking a single bite. The taste made it evident enough.

A damned Walkers potato crisp, in the Hogwarts Headmaster’s office. Now she had seen everything. And the pudding--? No...

’No,’ she repeated to herself, fighting the momentary bout of panic that set in. It was impossible. Surely it was just a trick. He may know she lived as a muggle outside of school. But he knew nothing of that life. Nothing. And if he did… No, she would question that directly.

“Why the...muggle food?”

“I thought it might be more suitable to your tastes,” Avery said casually as he took a sip of his tea, before turning to the House Elf.

“You’re free to go back to the kitchens now,” he instructed the Elf, who dutifully bowed and made its way out of the room.

Rachel promptly slumped back into the chair, almost suddenly choosing to leave the tray be. As much as she probably needed to eat something, the realization - and the occasion as a whole - had largely killed her appetite. He still hadn’t told her why he called her here…

“Was there something you needed, sir?” she asked, doing a pretty terrible job at hiding her desire to leave.

The Headmaster took a moment to sip some more of his tea before replying. Avery placed his cup on its saucer, and with a casual wave of his gloved hand, the tray disappeared, vanished into thin air.

“One of your classmates tells me you have been having non-sanctioned meetups,” he said. “I am asking in the interest of the school that you cease.”

Ah, there it was - the final puzzle piece. That talk with Isolde during the summer left her practically waiting for that one.

But Avery's straight-to-the-point response came as a bit of a surprise. Then again, when it came to doing things he didn’t know about, of course he’d jump right to nipping it in the bud immediately, she supposed. She suspected he'd find out about it all sooner or later though. After fifth year, it had largely grown much more informal - only meeting as a whole a handful of times. Otherwise, it was just as she downplayed it to be in the first place: a study group. Even the more hesitant students gradually warmed up to the idea of being more prepared for exams while simultaneously learning to better defend themselves.

She considered playing dumb. Perhaps her near-death experience and subsequent stint in St. Mungo’s left her…”conveniently” forgetful of such meetups? But then she remembered that gargoyle in her Common - that damned gargoyle...above her, Madi, and Derek. What if he knew exactly what they had mentioned on the subject? Great, now the paranoia was getting to her too, wasn’t it? Doubtful as she was, it wasn’t worth risking the backlash in the rare occasion that he was listening in on that little conversation. Damn it! And all this over a study group! She should have simply made it into a dueling club...

Actually, now that she thought about it, perhaps she could twist that somewhat in her favor? It probably wouldn’t change what was to come, but maybe she could delve into his reasoning. Rachel tilted her head, managing to hide that initial shock, and now seeming strangely curious.

“...non-sanctioned, sir?” she inquired. “I was...under the impression that meetings for the purpose of study and tutoring were well within the boundaries of--”

“Save it, Miss Ackerley,” Avery interrupted as he raised his hand. “I say this as a person who once served with your father and how has a great deal of respect to him; do not play me as a fool. It is exactly those sorts of study groups that led to the Death Eaters and the Ravencloaks. Your intentions aside, we both have the same goal here: what is best for the school. Going behind my back only makes my job here all the more difficult.”

The Headmaster’s words gave her pause - such pause that she was left utterly speechless by his response, capable of only staring at him for what felt like an eternity. The witch’s previously collected demeanor very suddenly soured. She was more than insulted. She was absolutely outraged. Would it not pain her to do so, she would have shot up to her feet. In a manner that seemed completely uncharacteristic for her, Rachel’s nostrils flared with anger, and she finally lashed out at him.

“How-- How...dare you!”

“For six years - six straight years - I’ve had to live in constant fear for my life! Each year it was the same thing; a new terror trying to kill us! And did the old Ministry ever turn up to protect them in time? Or Albion? No, they didn’t! I pulled this group together because I was tired of watching this ridiculous blood feud leaving children dead or scarred for life, both physically and mentally. Every autumn I’d come in, and the student body would be smaller, and smaller, and smaller... Had we not taught some of them how to properly defend themselves and help one another, half of the student body we have today might not even be here!”

“And instead, you compare this entire lot to Death Eaters and Ravencloaks? Am I just another Darkenstone to you? Another Liam Reynolds?!”

Finally, the witch managed to stop seething long enough to calm herself down. Rachel huffed out a sigh through her nose, and let herself grow quiet after realizing that she had just about shouted at her own Headmaster. Though she did not show it, a feeling of dread came over her. However, Avery calmly sat in his chair as he took a sip of tea, seemingly ignoring Rachel, or at least unfazed by her outburst. After some time he placed his cup back on its saucer and folded his gloved hands together.

“Do not lump me into the mistakes made by McGonagall,” Avery said simply. “And yes, Miss Ackerley, I do see you as acting little differently from Death Eaters, Ravencloaks, and Muggleborn Supremacists.”

The Headmaster paused for a moment.

“Defending the student body? Learning to defend yourselves? Is your rhetoric any different? Do you forget Mr. Darkenstone was just a lonely boy who gathered like minded people together, to do what he thought was right? Or Liam Reynolds, who felt the system was so broken he needed to fix it by any means necessary? You think you are different because you care about people? You do not think they cared about people too?”

"Do they care about people!" she spat, repeating the question. "Perhaps you should ask Darkenstone's armies of bewitched corpses that ripped apart any poor soul that got in their way, or his followers slinging around killing curses at their own classmates, if they think they were doing the right thing. Or maybe ask the terrorists that sent BOMBS in the mail to be opened during the feasts, if they think they care about people." She jutted a thumb to the doors of his office, towards the floor. "Someone had put one right there, outside in the hallway; sent this entire tower falling down the mountain!"

Rachel's eyes glared razor-sharp daggers into his own.

“You ask if I think I’m different from them? And I say yes, Headmaster. I do.”

“Really?” He said with a grin that soon faded. “Did you ever try to reach out to Mr. Reynolds, or Mr. Darkenstone? So much could have been prevented, do you not think?”

No. She wasn't playing that game anymore.

"You say that as if I played a part in the very system that drove both of them to hate and violence. They are just as much victims to this feud as every innocent pure-blood, muggle-born, and half-blood caught between them. Perhaps the system is broken, and now there is an entire school of shell-shocked children forced to live with the consequences. But to argue such things is not the reason I’ve been called here...”

With a visible wince, Rachel finally mustered the strength to rise to her feet.

"Fine,” she said simply. “I’ll do what you say. I’ll find time to get the lot of them together, and I'll tell them it’s done.”

The witch turned her back to Avery and made for the doors from which she came, surprising herself to find the Headmaster not only allowing her to depart, but not even bidding her any final words. As the auror standing guard outside pulled the door open for her, Rachel glanced back over her shoulder for but a moment.

"But don't expect much to change," she said offhandedly. "I can assure you, sir, both myself and the students I've helped are the least of your concern."

With that, Rachel marched straight out of the door without another word. And after a peculiar pause, the auror firmly shut the door, leaving the now silent Avery to his tea.

---

Ground Floor - Classroom 1B
The following afternoon

The first day of classes was thankfully uneventful for the student body. With last term's exams pushed to this one, much of the professors had spent their time assisting students with reviewing what most had been studying over the summer. This period of intense cramming had proved itself easy for some, and complicated for the few that incorrectly assumed last year's examinations would be skipped. Now that classes were concluded for the day, and Professor Sedwig had sent the last of his NEWT-level students on their way, the Transfiguration classroom finally found itself empty and quiet.

In the open center of the expansive room lined with desks along the walls, two animals circled one another.

At a steady pace, a small Welsh corgi, ears perched and on high alert, marched opposite an enormous brown bear. Though the latter trudged along the marble floor of the classroom with little issue, a number of scars were faintly visible beneath the beast's thick, layered hide of fur - all scattered upon its back, legs, and head. In stark contrast to the more groomed appearance of the diminutive, short-legged dog, the bear seemed as if it had fought viciously to survive every day of its life. This circling between one another continued for some time. When the corgi finally stood in front of the front desk of the Transfiguration classroom, however, they came to a stop.

The dog reared up on its hind legs, and transformed, taking the familiar form of Professor Sedwig.

"Well, you seem fairly scuffed, but..." the professor shrugged, turning to go back to his cluttered desk. "Other than that, it all looks normal. How do you feel?"

The bear promptly did the same, shrinking in size as it transfigured herself back into its human form. Rachel composed herself with a pained grunt amidst the sudden change in her center of mass, patting the dust and wrinkles from her long robes.

"I'll admit, Professor," she remarked with a slight shortness of breath. "It's a lot more comfortable than walking on two feet."

Sedwig bid her a quick look of surprise, the sprightly man's curiosity being thoroughly piqued. "Really now? Interesting! A viable alternative to marching across the entire castle every period, perhaps? Maybe carry around all the tomes on your back as well!" he quipped with a laugh.

"And scare half the students out of their skin while I'm at it," Rachel said back with a chuckle of her own. "I don't think the Headmaster would take kindly to it either. If McGonagall didn't, then..."

She trailed off. Sedwig also said nothing for a time, his typically jovial demeanor momentarily replaced with melancholy and disappointment. It was still hard to believe it had been over a year since that battle.

"...well, yes. You're probably right," he muttered, grabbing a quill and beginning to scratch down a few more notes upon a piece of parchment. Rachel cleared her throat, choosing to shake that bad memory off for the time being.

"But most of this still doesn't solve the problem of wielding magic--"

"Mind over body, Miss Ackerley," Sedwig said without even looking up from his writing. "Mind. Over. Body."

"Professor?" the witch tilted her head, a little off-put by the casual dismissing of her condition.

"There is naught we can do but wait, hm? So, focus on the academic," he instructed with a simple shrug. "With us still focused primarily on last term's content, we have more than enough time. Keep those revisions up, steadily get that strength back, and you'll be like a million galleons in no time at all, yes? Stressing yourself further will only create more problems."

Rachel let out a deep breath, finding a semblance of relief in the professor's words. She slowly nodded. "You... You're right. Thank you, Professor."

"You're most welcome," Sedwig said. "And please, do come back if you need any more assistance. I always find time!"

"Of course."

Rachel turned and headed for the door. Though she was tempted to return to the common and rest, a momentary realization prompted her to turn and quickly make for the entrance of the castle and begin trekking through the grounds to the pitch. There was a quidditch game starting soon...

Thankfully, when she arrived at the pitch, the witch eventually noticed she was early rather than late. Shuffling through a small, drifting crowd filing in, Rachel made her way to one of the empty stands, and sat herself down among an assortment of students from all houses.

---

Quidditch Pitch - Hufflepuff Lockers

Andrew sat upon a bench, tugging and tightening the straps that bound the leather armguards and padding that covered the bright yellow sweater of his quidditch clothes. To his relief, he had found the new pads and uniform fitting him fairly well. As he tucked his white trousers into his boots, he heard someone step up to the bench behind him.

"Oi," Andrew said, peering over his shoulder to see Adam stepping up and plunking himself down at his side, the boy's own broom tucked beneath his arm. "You hear about Derek, right?"

"What about him?"

Andrew lightly stomped his feet, breaking in the boots he hadn't worn in quite a while. He cracked a smirk. "Apparently, Rachel gave him her Thunderbolt."

"PFFT--!" Adam spat, returning with a mix of shock and amusement on his face. "No way! You're shitting me, right?"

"Nope."

Adam outright burst out into laughter. "Ho-- Christ! Guess I should count myself lucky to be swapping off then, yeah?"

He whirled around to face the rest of the locker room.

"Haha! Hey, David! You hear that?" Adam called out with a playful taunt to his voice. "Good luck, man! You're gonna need it!"

[Arlye Austros]

Derek and Ricardo

That day wasn’t going all that amazing, Ricardo reminded himself as he walked out of Charms, the last term of the day. At least Hufflepuff and Gryffindor were up to face each other at the Pitch. Maybe some mistake listed the first match of the year even before the damn exams. It would take his mind off things for a second.
But it didn’t. Ricardo leaned his back on a wall at the hallway and looked at the ceiling for a second, thinking. He was going to fail every exam!

A moment later he reached the Great Hall and looked around the entrance, keeping an eye out for Derek. They had arranged to meet there after classes, and while he was in the Red Team, he hoped they could talk in between the last classes and the match.

On his part, Derek’s first day of really being back in society was... going well.
He hadn’t had a chance to go out to the pitch and practice yet, maybe he could do so after he talked with Ricardo.
Derek met his friend by the entrance. “Hello.”

Ricardo had been leaning once more on the wall but snapped out of his trance once he heard Derek.
“Glad you remembered.” He said with a smile. “So, you are playing today? Whoever scheduled this Season has no time to lose.” He jested. “Let’s head down the Pitch, I would rather be outside, unless you need to pick something else before going there.”

Derek shook his head. “No, I think I’ve got everything. Did you know Rachel gave me her Thunderbolt Eight?”
“I don’t even know what a Thunderbolt Eight is…” Ricardo chuckled and began walking towards the main gate. “So I take it she is not playing. Figures. Any chance she will play again this year?”
“I don’t know.” Derek followed him, snapping his fingers and securing a broom in his hand as it flew up to him from seemingly nowhere.

The other once measured the distance of the flight, assessing the speed of the broom. An obvious face of vertigo quickly vanished. “Can’t say I am a big fan of brooms. I enjoy flying every now and then, but heights really get to me. And once I nearly died on a broom, so until I think of that I can tolerate it.” He commented, taking a passage towards the path into the Grounds. “Any idea about that Russian lady? Kalashnikov? What was her name?”
“As much as I really don’t want to, I’m thinking I’ll volunteer first just to get it out of the way. I’m.... wondering if there’s even a future for me.”
“Always a future for the guys who volunteers… Unless it’s for kissing Dementors.” He said turning on that last remark while walking backwards. “But yeah, I admit I thought about that too. Used to jump first in in the trampoline at Muggle School because I just hated it and rather have it out of the way. Come to think of it, that might by why I am afraid of heights.”

They reached the courtyard, the same they raided the prior evening. “Still too many ears…” He muttered. “But yeah, don’t discard your future just yet. After all we’ve all been through it would be pretty anticlimactic.”
“You know, none of them care about us. They might say they do, but they don’t. However, they went through what we’re going through now, with the take-over of ninety seven. Seems they’re reliving their pasts and maybe they don’t know what to do.”
Ricardo didn’t reply to that. In fact he wasn’t sure what he thought. A year before he might have disagreed. Now…

“Let’s head down!” He said plainly. They had reached an opening on the perimeter of the courtyard and a dirt path descended a hill towards the Grounds, joining the main path that then branched off to Hagrid’s house. Ricardo gazed at the lake as they walked down.
“So, did you manage to talk to this Auror?” He asked once he felt the castle was far enough. Certainly off eavesdropping range. Some students seemed to loaf around under nearby trees, and none seemed to pay attention to them, even Derek and his new broom. “He said he was a friend of your family, I recall.”

“Haverbouch? No. I haven’t seen him since... Since he was the one to take me to the Ministry.” Derek looked off at the lake nearby. “... Why do you ask?”
“Spoke to him. That was about two weeks back. I hoped to hear back from him ever since, but he didn’t give a sign. So, I was worried.” He implied no true concern. “I am sure he could take care of himself though. He seemed competent, if a bit too formal for my taste.”

“The Ministry could have him on missions, he’s one of the oldest Aurors still working I think.... Makes sense that they would have him deal with the more dangerous things.”
They reached the end of the slope and continued walking. Ricardo obviously avoided replying while students were nearby. “Do you think he would lie for them?”
Derek hung back a bit. “What do you mean?”
“Do you trust him?” Ricardo stopped and turned, seemingly paying attention again to others not being too close. “He seemed trustworthy, but I don’t know him.”

Derek nodded but looked slightly unsure. “I do. Despite his ties to the Ministry... Did he speak to you about something?”
He raised his eyebrows. “You, actually. About what happened over there at the cottage. He seemed to believe you wouldn’t be able to go back there, so I offered for you to stay with us if you came out of the Ministry earlier.” Ricardo gestured towards a group of trees that separated the Lake and the path leading to the Quidditch Pitch. There were no students there, so he began walking there. “Well… You didn’t, and now we are all here in your Boss’s property once more.”

“.... ‘us’? What do you mean by that?” Derek decided to test something and he set himself on the broom, then kicked off the ground. He ended up floating about two feet up as he found that he could control the broom so it merely floated along at walking speed. It was nice.
Ricardo dropped to the grass just as Derek floated in the air. “I went back home after I left St. Mungo. I suppose you didn’t know as they told me you left after Last Year. Things happened… Far too many to recount right now. I came back with a bunch of fugitives. I think there is a bloody price on my head as well.” He added that part with a hint of smug satisfaction. “We are anchored somewhere off the British Shore. We stole a ship, you know. It is a somewhat safe place, and I suggested your friend that should you need a place to retreat you could head there.”

“You stole a ship.” Derek gazed at his friend, then started laughing. “You really did that? How did you not get caught?”
“Hey!” He shrugged, raising his hands. “In my defence, it was at international waters!” Ricardo then leaned back. “Arr… But in all seriousness. It wasn’t so much a steal. More like a liberation. It was bloody, I will tell you that. The hay of misfits over there are as cracked as the one in here.” He paused. “Which is why I got’e keep th’m safe, and why I have second thoughts about the Auror.”
“So what is this ship of yours like?”

Ricardo sat back up and leaned against a tree. He smiled, obviously enjoying to think about the Lucerna. “Sounds crazy, I know, but its as you would expect. A ship. Wooden. Sometimes it has three masts, some even four. She prefers to have two. Keeps us with a low profile. It looks small on the outside, three decks only, but like Hogwarts, it can fit much more in it.” He explained, thumbing at the castle in the distance.

“And she can fight. I don’t think her cannons were ever fired before we used them, but they make one loud bang. We could have used her on the Lake last year, I am sure.”
“Sounds impressive. Anything else you can tell me?”
“Not right here.” He said. “I must admit I am worried about it while I am all the way down here. But I left good people in charge. If I even have to go back on Christmas or once I do after this year I am sure it will be waiting there. And that applies to you if you ever need to get off Hogwarts for a while.”
Derek gazed at Ricardo, then smiled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Just don’t mention it to anyone. Oh, and we are still trying to deal with the matter of food. Our cook is kind of no good at all. I really hope he will step up his game in the meantime.” Ricardo then paused and eyed at the Pitch.

“I suppose we should head down there. Don’t want to be blamed for delaying players of the other team.”
“I’ve been thinking of going into food, maybe desserts....” Derek then nodded and made his way to the pitch on the broom.
“Worse thing…” Ricardo continued while following Derek. “… I will probably get some decent cook somewhere else. Do you think Caitie knows somebody? Or is it just house elves who made all the cooking?”
“Caitie might know something but you’d have to ask her.”
Ricardo frowned. “Yeah, I would rather not ask her, to be honest. Last time I think she messed with Raph’s mind. Don’t want to risk getting someone poisoned.”
They approached the Pitch, and already some students seemed to gather around waiting for the grandstands to open.

“Don’t see any Aurors around but can’t be too sure. They will surely be observing the game.” He said while checking in between the groups of students talking about their first day, the day before or the coming game. Ricardo then turned to Derek. “Good luck! Though don’t expect me to cheer for you people.”
Derek glanced at the various students around him before he nodded to Ricardo, then moved the broom over the crowd and onto the pitch.

He didn’t know if he was allowed to practice before the game started. Maybe he was.
Derek flew a bit higher and looked around, then turned the broom and took off across the pitch. This new broom was fast but he knew he could control it.

As he flew around, he remembered going into his dad’s study and reading about Qudditch. It turned out he came from a long line of players - Quiddtich was in his blood, literally. Past ancestors had been killed over bets and other things regarding Quidditch.
He eventually stopped and flew down to the grass field, waiting for the others to show up.


Isolde

Isolde really hoped this last leg of study before Last Year Finals would save her now. She found that her understanding of April’s D.A.D.A. lessons were easy to crack into her skull when reviewing them that day. But now she had to deal with some painful prospect for an afternoon.
And that pain would come from Quidditch.

“Broom… Broom… Broom… Don’t tell me I left it home!” She muttered while checking her baggage, still not unpacked. She cursed while rolling back her eyes at ceiling. She sat on her bed at the Hufflepuff common, her baggage sprawled over the bed as well. She tried to recall the last game of the previous season… Or maybe she had used her broom in Cardiff?... Hold a minute. There was no last game.
Isolde’s face was covered by her hands. How did she forget? “I am such an idiot!” The prefect muttered.

She made her way to the Pitch, hoping the spare brooms wouldn’t be in a terrible condition. The standings were already open, as some students seemed to pour into the stairs leading to the seats that each House had taken that day. She had fifteen minutes at most, so she lifted her bag over her shoulder and headed to the dressers.
Inside there were just people from Last year’s team. They didn’t really have any time for try-outs, so they had filled the pending positions with Hufflepuffs who volunteered to fill the spot for a single game. A Fourth Year girl was in the girl’s side, looking at a locker but seemingly elsewhere.
“You won’t be too comfortable flying in your uniform, you know?” She said, snapping her out of the trance. “Day Filler?”
“Yes… Rebecca…”
“Patil, I know. Listen, this is just for this game, but do your share and we could consider you for the Seeker spot once we make try-outs.”

The girl looked at Isolde, carrying a plain canvas bag, but missing something.
“You lock your broom in here?”
“No.” Isolde frowned and pinched her tongue with her lips, as she does when frustrated. “It was destroyed last year, in that fight. And I forgot.”
The other one chuckled, but seemed to feel it might have been offensive, so she rectified her expression. “Sorry. That’s terrible.”
“It’s fine. We do have spare brooms around. I just need to look for them, and quick.” She started changing herself. At least that gave her a sense of progression before dealing with the broom. “Just remember to not overdo your passes, if you can’t be sure, then get closer and make the pass.”
“What about the goals?”
“Always be on the offensive.”

When she was ready with the armbands, the last she always donned for every match, Isolde searched her bag for her golden coin, her Father’s memento, wearing it under her clothes, then locked everything else in the locker and turned.
“By the way, did you find a Beater? My friend Horace said he would fill in today, but the prick overslept and just called a quitter’s.”
Isolde was frozen on her way out.
“He didn’t tell us? Remind me to kill your friend, please… I will have to go and find someone…. Damnit!” Isolde exited the girl’s locker room slapping the locker nearest to the exit and crossed into the Boy’s side, where he heard Adam’s voice, and he was calling out to her boyfriend.

“What the joke about?” She said in a mildly annoyed tone. “Because if it involves us getting a last Beater before the game then I am all into that jest.” She interrupted, seemingly unaware this was the boy’s room. “The kid who was to fill in today isn’t coming. We need to find somebody… And myself a broom. Mine’s all burnt up.”

[Triassica]

Raphael Raymond

Raphael got to studying for the finals immediately after feast, falling asleep midsentence with a potions textbook on his chest. The next morning, during breakfast, however, his mind was occupied by Caitie's suggestion that Avery was behind the wiping of his memory instead of her. Again, on one hand, Avery wasn't to be trusted at all and may or may not have authoritarian reasons to try to make Raph forget about Alexander. On the other, however, the muggleborn figured that it was common for suspects to shift blame onto another. The two facts made Raphael decide to be vigilant about both of them as he pondered on it further after charms class.

On the way to Quidditch, Raphael spotted Theodore, Alexander's younger brother, walk past him with a small group of his friends. It was then the muggleborn realized how selfish he might have been these past couple of years. Theodore loved Alex as well, being as close together as brothers can be. The muggleborn couldn't imagine the pain he may have gone through, and might still be going though, since losing his brother. Raphael sighed and wondered of he should say anything to the second year Slytherin, but by the time he made up his mind, Theodore was already long gone.

Raphael climbed up the steps of the Quidditch stands, having forgotten what he wanted to say to Theodore and wishing that he wrote it down. He found Rachel sitting among other students and sat close to her, wondering what her thoughts on his troubles might be. "I spoke to Caitie about my missing memories of Alex." He spoke carefully after a French greeting, "She told me that the Headmaster may be behind it, but I don't know... It could go either way really..."

[Miekzhemy]

Andrew/Adam

Adam swiveled around on the bench and glanced over to the door just as he said that, noticing Isolde had heard it. That entertained grin was still plastered on the boy's face. "Oh, I was just wishing David good luck. 'Cause apparently, uhh..." Adam looked over his shoulder again. "What broom did she give him again?"

"Rachel," Andrew said, slowly this time, still fastening the straps of his padding. "Gave Derek, her Thunderbolt."

"Yeah! Her Eight," Adam nodded. "Yeah, we're absolutely boned-- Spare broomsticks are in the corner by the way, Is," He jutted his own broom towards the far end of the locker room, pointing it towards a dilapidated wooden shelf. "Most are Shooting Stars, but there might be a Comet Two-Twenty in there? Maybe an old Cleansweep? I haven't checked 'em in a while..."

"What's with this sudden confidence in Derek, anyway? He's thin as a twig right now--!"

"Okay, it's not just Derek, alright?" he interrupted Andrew, leaving Isolde to find herself a replacement broom. "That damn thing is fast as hell! You hear about that Romanian Seeker that left the entire English team in the dust back in 2018? Bastard outstripped a Firebolt Supreme with one of those!"


Rachel

As more students began to pile into the stand, Rachel covered herself in her cloak like a blanket, feeling a brisk wind pick up that caused her lengthy hair to billow out to the side for a moment. At least the weather was nice, she thought. A few minutes went by in waiting for both the student body to get situation and for the teams to prepare themselves. The witch sat quietly for a time, and let her mind wander...

"Rachel?" a girl's voice snapped her back to reality. She looked over her shoulder to the Third Year that curiously addressed her.

"Mm?"

"You're not playing?"

"Ah, no. Not yet," She said. The girl seemed worried, but Rachel bid her a dismissive gesture of her hand. "Still feel like rubbish. Might be fine by the time the Tournament starts, though. Don't worry!"

"Oh, okay! Well, uhm... Get well soon!"

As the girl scurried off to regroup with her friends, a grin crept over the Head Girl's face. That was nice of her. At least the more unsightly burns on her face were thoroughly masked. As the stand began to fill up, things were getting a bit more noisy now. Rachel then looked to her left, finding Raphael had sat down. The witch gave him a weak wave from beneath her cloak, and listened. She had almost forgotten about his little memory problem. The prospect of Avery being involved seemed odd at best, but considering all his attempts to figure out the how's and the why's had still come up with literally nothing, she had begun to wonder...

"Hrm...but what reason would Avery have to do that, though?" Rachel furrowed her brow. "Alex's name is right up there on the memorial..."