Chapter 1: A New Beginning
Chapter Text
“Alright, that’s enough spectacle for one day. Class is dismissed.”
Professor Hecat shooed her students off while waving her wand about, restoring the room’s furniture to its original arrangement. Desks hovered around, returning to their appointed positions—benches sliding into place beneath them. The long dueling table at the center of the room sunk down—its ornately decorated tablecloth melting into the floor. The only remaining clue to the table's very existence was an intricate pattern of blue and gold etched upon the hardwood floor, matching it in width and length.
Young witches and wizards packed away their schoolbooks and filed out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, passing under the fearsome skeleton of a long-deceased Hebridean Black as they made their way into the hallway. Separate from the raucous line of gossiping students, two bruised classmates in green and yellow hung back. Huddled in a corner, they whispered of unsanctioned dueling clubs and clandestine trips to the library’s restricted section, conspiring in secret to break a number of rules over the coming school year—a fact which would have dismayed prefects everywhere. The pair were quickly growing close despite the thumpings they’d given each other in class—the damage from which was evident in the way both boys nursed and massaged their respective welts.
'Slytherins definitely don't hold back. But that aggression made Sebastian predictable,' mused the victorious duelist as he contemplated the maneuver that had led to his triumph over a more experienced opponent. The two had traded volleys back and forth for a while—Shield Charms interposing most of the attacks—until the Slytherin’s impatience got the better of him. He had overextended, neglecting his footwork in order to fire off a particularly forceful series of blasts. Such an attack would usually have overwhelmed his opponent’s defensive ward, creating an opening. But what Sebastian failed to anticipate was the new student dropping his guard altogether—taking the hits straight on the chest—while firing off a single shallow counterattack. The low blow had collided with the Slytherin's unsteady legs, tripping him up. Amplifying his surprise even further, his stumble had exposed him to a follow-up Levioso, which ultimately sealed his fate.
The gambit had worked, and the Hufflepuff felt proud of his win. Professor Fig had done a fantastic job imparting the basics despite their short summer schedule together. It had not been a flawless victory, however. And judging from the lingering soreness where Sebastian’s final assault had struck, the fight easily could’ve gone another way if he hadn’t ended it when he did. 'Basic casts are painful as hell! And they don't hurt any less just because getting hit was part of the plan.' The teen idly rubbed at a particularly sore spot while reflecting on the duel.
Meanwhile, his Slytherin accomplice downplayed the defeat, insisting that more evidence was required before declaring a champion. “We’ll see if your performance today was sheer luck or actual skill,” goaded the youth as he extended an invitation to test that proposition. “Look for Lucan Brattleby by the Clock Tower entrance if you’re interested.”
“Definitely. Although if the other duelists…” Hogwart's newest fifth-year trailed off, rummaging through his robes before eventually producing a small vial of emerald liquid. “If their spellcasting is anywhere near as powerful as yours, I’ll have to procure more of this first.” He took a quick swig of the Wiggenweld and then offered up the remaining half as a token of friendship.
"Humble despite your victory—and extending mercy towards a defeated foe? Tsk, how very typical for a Hufflepuff. Don’t grow too soft, though; you’ll need to be ruthless if you intend on becoming the next Crossed Wands champion—not that I plan on allowing that to happen.” Sebastian took the verdant vial into his hands. "We won't be limiting ourselves to just Levioso and basic casts the next time we face off. You’ll need more Wiggenweld than this once you’ve had a taste of my Blasting Curse!”
“Your Blasting Curse against my Stunning Spell—may the better man win.”
The Slytherin did not respond to that comment as he pressed the green vial to his lips. Rather than imbibing the liquid, however, he abruptly paused, newfound concern growing evident on his face. Sebastian slowly spun the glass receptacle over, intently examining it against the light before inquiring, “Uh—you aren’t the one who brewed this, right?” He sounded serious, his apprehensive tone immediately evaporating the friendly banter that had flowed so easily between the two up to that point. After receiving only a confused and questioning look from the Hufflepuff in reply, Sebastian further explained in a gruff tone clearly meant to imitate the voice of another, “A potion and a poison are a mere breath apart—until you consume the wrong one.” He then continued on with his explanation, returning to his usual cadence. “I promise you’ll hear that from Professor Sharp at least once this year. Anyways, what I mean to say is I'd rather live with the bruises than chug a questionable concoction brewed by the new student. Someone who—mind you—hasn’t attended a single day of Potions class in their life. No offense.” He playfully emphasized the last two words, raising his hands in a sheepish shrug.
A shared, lighthearted snicker erupted between the two—the unexpected tension immediately forgotten. “No offense taken. This vial is from Professor Fig’s personal store,” clarified the new fifth year, who indeed knew nothing of potion making—at least for now. He then reassuringly added, “As you can see, it’s working quite efficiently.“ The Hufflepuff held out an exposed forearm to confirm that the red welts and purple bruises Sebastian had dealt him in class were very much receding—relief washing over him as the soreness finally faded.
With the potion’s potency definitively demonstrated, Sebastian downed the remainder of the vial, shivering as the curative likewise restored him to full health. Then his demeanor shifted once again—looking sly, discerning, and full of confidence at having caught onto something meant to remain private. He finally confronted the boy in yellow with the rumors the Hufflepuff had been dreading all morning. “From Professor Fig, you say? Seems unusual for him to share Wiggenweld potion with a student. Could it have anything to do with this mysterious dragon attack I've been hearing so much about? So—the rumors really are true? A dragon ambush over London, one ministry official dead, and you at the center of it all. How interesting...”
'Damn.' That last part hadn't even been a question; Sebastian just knew, 'And he's certain to have plenty more questions now that he's figured it out.' Leave it to a Slytherin to turn a friendly conversation into a sudden interrogation. Although Sebastian's effortless smirk revealed that this seeming incongruity actually came quite naturally to him. 'I'll have to learn to keep my mouth shut around this boy in the future.'
“Hah! The look on your face. Don’t try to hide any of it; I can already tell you're a particularly poor liar. Too much honesty in Hufflepuffs, I say." The Slytherin grinned and gloated but mercifully didn’t pursue the topic any further. “Worry not; I shan’t press for more details—at least for the time being. I owe you one for the potion after all.” He handed the empty vial back with a friendly wink. “Besides, I’m certain we’ll be seeing more of each other in the future. No doubt there’ll be plenty of opportunities for you to illuminate me on your summer adventures. I just knew you'd make for intriguing company."
With a quick "Until next time,” Sebastian turned and strode out of the classroom, leaving his accomplice alone with their thoughts.
The Hufflepuff looked up, once more taking in the sight of the mighty Hebridean Black dangling above. So far he’d managed not to divulge any confidential details of the previous night’s adventure. But the end of his conversation with Sebastian brought him right back to the troubling questions that still plagued him. Questions that became impossible to ignore in the presence of a room-sized dragon skeleton—its imposing stature serving as an ominous reminder of just how close his recent brush with death had been. 'Mr. Osric had been swallowed whole even…'
Was their encounter with the beast a mere coincidence? He doubted that, believing the dragon to have been after something. But that only led to another question. Who could have orchestrated the attack?
Then there was the mysterious glow only he could perceive and interact with. Why did he have power over ancient magic when others didn't? And how could he deepen his understanding of this new ability? Preferably without running the risk of more animated suits of plate mail trying to dismember him. He yearned to ask Professor Fig's late wife about her research; it may have held some answers, but alas, most of it had been lost alongside her.
Lastly, there was the matter of Ranrok—his demands, his threats, his magic. How had the goblin rebel even known of the vault’s existence? What exactly was he hoping to find in it? And just how deep did this conspiracy run? 'So many questions and only one person to discuss them with—for the time being at least.'
The dragon attack survivor sighed. Looking back down, his thoughts returned to the present moment. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of the elderly Professor Hecat at the far end of the room, shuffling into her office with a twinkle of knowing in her eyes. A nervous thought suddenly struck him, 'Could magic read minds?' He certainly wouldn’t be able to keep last night’s adventure a secret—as Fig had requested—if that were the case. Hecat's expression suggested she knew more than she'd let on in their final after-class conversation.
However, he recalled that it was Professor Hecat who had initially suggested he speak with Sebastian, asserting that the Slytherin could assist with practice. In all likelihood, the secret she was privy to regarded the dueling club and not yesterday’s dragon attack. 'Perhaps students aren’t quite as secretive as they assume they are?' If the experienced witch was aware of Crossed Wands, it would not have been difficult for her to anticipate Sebastian’s furtive invitation to continue dueling outside of class. However, this would also suggest that the professor was willing to allow the illegal club to continue—despite the obvious transgression in school rules.
The novice duelist considered asking the professor for another moment of her time. Sebastian had just demonstrated how to hold a friendly conversation until some buried information accidentally lets itself slip. But attempting a backhanded interrogation on the professor seemed both unwise and unnecessary. 'She knows whatever it is she knows, and that’s all there is to it.' Besides, he really only intended to participate in a friendly dueling competition. One that was only slightly prohibited. It’s not like he was planning on taking Sebastian up on his other offer of sneaking into the library’s restricted section, though the delinquent did make a compelling case for—'wait, what am I saying? Bad thoughts! Damn that boy and his charismatic scheming.'
Clearing his head of illicit temptations put there by a rule-breaking Slytherin, the new fifth year wandered out of the classroom. Once on the balcony of the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower, he was free again to breathe in the majesty of the centuries-old castle and its exquisite Gothic architecture. 'Hogwarts truly is a marvel,' he concluded, believing the school to be something out of a child’s bedtime story. The castle's construction was simply breathtaking, with its enormous vaulted ceilings, gorgeous stained glass windows, and many ornate statues. Beneath him, a tessellated diamond pattern crisscrossed the stone floor below, giving even the ground a decorated and refined look. He just knew he could lose himself in the school's splendor for hours.
'Have to enjoy this beautiful scenery now before…' Before the inevitable flood of assignments? Before being left face down under a pile of old books and dusty tomes for the remainder of the school year? After this week, it would be nothing but a deluge of homework from now until O.W.L.s were complete. 'Five entire years of education crammed into one. This is going to be a struggle.' Still, at least he had made some friends this morning. Natty and Sebastian could prove invaluable companions, and between Crossed Wands and Summoner’s Court, there would be ample opportunity to refine his wandwork—even if the rest of his fifth year proved to be an endless slog of essays and extra assignments.
While absently roving the halls, he wondered who else he might hit it off with today. He'd met some fellow Hufflepuffs in their common room this morning but hadn't gotten a chance to talk with them further during class. Lenora had come off as a touch condescending, to say the least. But Arthur and Adelaide seemed friendly enough. He didn't get the opportunity to converse with either for too long—and hadn't gotten to know them all that well as a result—but on first impression, they both seemed well-meaning and likeable. Hufflepuffs were known for their welcoming and accepting nature, so that came as no surprise. 'Which means it shouldn’t be too hard to befriend at least one today; I should aim to make at least one good friend within my own House after all.'
The daydreaming youth remained lost in thought, wandering about the tower and not in any particular rush. He peered over the balcony’s handrail and observed as flocks of students hurriedly flitted past one another—everyone making their way from class to class with surprising speed and efficacy. 'Only the first day of term and already there’s so much activity and excitement.' Despite having far more work than anyone else, here he was—relaxed—simply enjoying the sights and sounds of the castle. “You only have one first day at Hogwarts.” Professor Weasley's sage advice from this morning still lingered in the back of his mind. 'Words worth remembering.'
The boy wasn’t lazy by any stretch. And certainly—when the time came—he’d buckle down and put in the effort, as he always had… But just for today, the fresh-faced fifth year was grateful to have a few peaceful moments like this. It was an opportunity to absorb his surroundings while setting aside his many concerns. A welcome reprieve after everything that had unfolded the previous night; he longed to keep his mind focused elsewhere today.
'Suppose I can’t dither around forever, though—so where to next?'
The Field Guide held the answer naturally. It had proven an incredibly handy tool when navigating the maze that was Hogwarts Castle—with its many shifting staircases and confusingly laid-out passageways. 'How on earth are the other students getting around so effortlessly?' The returning students were one thing, but even the first years were making it look easy. It decidedly was not. However, the astounding navigational proficiency of other Hogwarts students was a mystery to unravel on another day.
Pulling out his Monday schedule and turning to the Field Guide’s map of the castle, the new student found exactly what he was searching for. '8 am Charms, check. 9 am Defense Against the Dark Arts, done. Looks like History of Magic is up next on the docket. A double period at that. Then a study period following lunch and finally Astronomy after dinner.' He frowned in disappointment as he contemplated the implications of his schedule. 'I suppose that means no more spellcasting for the remainder of the day… Although History and Astronomy might hold their own unique excitement, in a way.' After attending two lively classes taught by professors passionate about the material, he imagined all the ways his upcoming history lecture could be made fun: the Wizarding World's past being brought to life with dramatic retellings of Goblin Rebellions, Giant Wars, and Dark Wizards. Epic tales of battle being woven across the pages of history. 'Perhaps the class even makes use of Pensieves similar to the one in Gringotts? That would be exciting—the historical record made real through the memories of those who lived it.'
Despite some initial dissatisfaction with his Monday schedule, the new fifth year had now thoroughly psyched himself up at the prospect of students bearing witness to history’s most significant moments firsthand. He couldn't wait to discover what this mysterious Professor Binns—who had not been present at last night's Sorting Ceremony—would have in store for him. With his destination set, the bright-eyed youth activated his Field Guide’s Charmed Compass, trusting it to lead the way.
‘MERLIN, THAT WAS AWFUL!’ The once bright-eyed but now thoroughly distressed and despondent youth stood immobile outside the History of Magic classroom. He waited next to the door, shivering in revulsion—the haunting memory of putrid, gag-inducing fumes still clear as day in his mind.
One ill-advised casting of Revelio in search of additional Field Guide pages during his walk to class had taken him off the Compass’ recommended path and directly into the Pungent Passage. ’Tsunami of Stinkcap is right!’ He quoted to himself, recalling an excerpt from the Guide’s entry on that repulsive corridor. The mere act of passing through the place was an act of violence against one's own unprepared nostrils, with the vile odors causing all who enter to retch.
‘I think I’m going to be sick.’
While the hallway had been miserable to traverse, he could’ve gotten out largely unscathed and unscented if not for one particularly problematic poltergeist. Peeves—pesky prat that he was—had decided a truly memorable introduction was in order. It was uncommon for a fifteen-year-old to be unprepared for his hijinks, as the other fifth-year students had grown accustomed to the troublemaker's antics after spending so much time at Hogwarts. However, this specific fifth-year student had arrived under unique circumstances, and the little imp had been determined to seize the unique opportunity.
A barrage of water balloons, falling from high up, had assailed the Hufflepuff just as he finished adding to his Field Guide's collection. They burst open instantly upon collision with his clothes—yellow robes finding themselves thoroughly soaked through. Crossing his arms overhead, the boy could only muster a relatively weak attempt at self-defense, caught totally off-guard by the ambush. The poltergeist—hovering dozens of feet above him—roared with laughter as more water-filled projectiles rained down, madly cackling, "Look what Peevesy has found! A new student inbound. The boy’s path poorly set, now he’s all soaking wet. And in this passage lost, his nose shall pay the cost!”
The boy in question wiped the water from his eyes, looking up with disdain but believing the worst to be over as Peeves’s singing finally died down. Oh, how wrong he’d been. The mischievous apparition, out of water balloons at that point but never truly out of pranks, had another trick quite literally hiding up his sleeve. Pulling a fluffy, grey sphere from his clownish, orange overcoat, the fiend held the object aloft while cackling out another rhyme, “Watch out for ol’ Gerald, for his tongue does herald—your nose becoming feast for this small Puffskein beast!” Those final prescient taunts had fallen on deaf ears, unfortunately. The new student stopped listening once he realized that the fluffy, grey ball in Peeves’s hand was actually a living creature!
From high up, the strange animal’s overly large and globular eyes had intently looked down at the Hufflepuff from where the poltergeist was dangling it. The boy could handle water balloons, but animal cruelty went too far! As Peeves tossed the critter, the teen found himself stepping backwards—arms outstretched—to catch it. However, the wet and slippery surface below caused the Hufflepuff to slip. Falling backwards onto the ground, he still managed to catch the grey hairball on the way down and clutched the beast to his chest so as to cushion its fall. This did nothing to lessen the impact on his own behind, however. He crashed into the ground with a dull thud, his posterior rather painfully colliding with the floor.
Peeves had howled at the spectacle, his gleeful shouts still distantly audible even after floating through several walls on his way to cause more mischief and mayhem elsewhere. Evidently, now that Hogwarts' newest student had been thoroughly debased and made a fool of, the introductions were complete, leading the poltergeist to simply wander off, satisfied with the outcome.
The would-be animal rescuer had let out a deep and depressed sigh. He found himself lying on his back, dazed and bruised from the fall. There—left in a damp pool of water soaking up the awful stench of the Pungent Passage and imprinting its odor onto his robes—he wondered if every day at Hogwarts would be quite so… eventful.
However, the teenager did not remain alone with his disheartened thoughts for long, as the weight on his chest started to shift. Crawling out from the boy’s secure arms to perch on his sternum, Gerald stared down at its savior—looking quite pleased. “At least you’re alright, little buddy.” Those had been the first and only civil words the Hufflepuff would share with the creature for quite some time. Mere moments after that, the Puffskein’s pupils dilated in ravenous hunger—its sight set on a new target. The beast’s tongue—easily thrice the length of its body—shot outwards at lightning speed.
’It had been UP. MY. NOSE!’
The fifth-year student—now standing outside the History of Magic classroom—shuddered at the memory. He had fallen into Stinkcap-laced essence just to save the poor animal’s life, and, as thanks for his noble deed, the ungrateful critter had made a meal out of him. ‘Absolutely zero loyalty. Unbelievable. You're fortunate you're adorable, you little prick.
Gerald innocently glanced up from its nesting place, snugly wrapped in the boy's arms. Despite his frustrations with the creature, he could not bring himself to abandon the ingrate to that foul-smelling passageway. Therefore, he decided to bring the beast along to his next class. ‘You are welcome for that, you problematic Puffskein…’ He figured Gerald would be docile enough to babysit for one lecture, now that the beast had eaten its fill. ‘And if I'm lucky, hopefully someone will know what to do with you afterwards.’
A mandatory trip to the bathroom on his way to class had confirmed that the stink clinging to his traditional school robes would not wash off anytime soon. The lingering scent on his outer garment had rendered them an affront to basic human decency. As such, they’d been left to soak in a bathroom sink for the time being. Now robeless, the Hufflepuff stood outside the door to class in his yellow vest and linen dress shirt. The thick robes had mercifully insulated both, mostly protecting them from harm.
The clock tower bell had chimed out several minutes ago, signaling his unfortunate tardiness—which only continued to grow. He was arriving late, in a reduced state of dress, accompanied by a grey fur ball, and was going to have to explain himself to the professor in front of everybody. ‘What a way to embarrass myself on the first day of class…’
’Oh well. Waiting will only make it worse; let’s just get this over with.’ Crossing his fingers and steeling his resolve, the new student pushed his way through the door and into the classroom beyond.
The first thing he noticed was the bright light. Warm, natural daylight filtered in through stained glass windows on the right side of the room, setting the area aglow in a rich yellow tint. Blinking back the radiant light as his eyes adjusted, the Hufflepuff next noticed that the mysterious Professor Binns was in fact a… ‘ghost?’
The specter in the room—which floated between rows of sleeping students—was indeed reciting a number of historical facts in a low drone. He possessed a dry, reedy voice that projected pure—and dispassionate—academic expertise. ‘Yes, he’s most definitely the professor.’
Yet despite the door creaking shut behind him, squealing rather loudly on its ungreased hinges, the apparition remained oblivious to the new student's arrival. A few dozing and bleary-eyed students looked up just long enough to acknowledge something mildly stimulating had happened but otherwise nodded right back off. ‘What is going on here?’ Had this morning’s pumpkin juice been spiked with Sleeping Draught? ‘Actually, I wouldn’t put it past Peeves at this point…’
The ghostly professor continued floating about the classroom, now listing off a number of statistics regarding the Goblin Rebellion of 1752 and how its total mismanagement led Albert Boot to resign as Minister for Magic. “And his replacement—Basil Flack—fared no better, forced to resign a mere two months later himself.” The specter lectured on, still not stopping to acknowledge the late arrival. Even when he turned to face the back of the room and seemingly made direct eye contact, Professor Binns still failed to recognize the new student standing awkwardly near the door, mouth open as if to speak. The Hufflepuff's prepared excuses, intended to explain his absence, dissolved in his throat when he realized the lecturer had no intention of stopping class to question him over his tardiness or even deduct a few House points. The late arrival could only imagine how differently his other professors would’ve reacted. 'Professor Hecat would have trapped me in a Levioso by now, just to set an example.'
Not wanting to press his luck, the boy hastily took a seat. He caught sight of Natty—near comatose at the present moment—but she already had a desk mate, also asleep. The classroom was nearly full save for a single remaining open seat—next to a Hufflepuff girl who sat alone at a desk off to the left. The new student made his way over, trying not to wake anyone as the professor continued droning on. He sat down and slowly began retrieving his parchment and quill with one hand, Gerald still resting in the crook of his other arm and seemingly entering a trance. Evidently, Puffskeins were no more immune to the class-wide sleeping spell than the students had been.
As the boy gathered up his school supplies, he briefly had to slide the shared bench upon which he sat backwards, jostling his new desk mate ever so slightly.
The girl’s eyes fluttered open. She yawned and blinked back the sleep, her elbows propped against the desk—having used a free hand as a pillow to rest her chin against while dozing. Rotating her head to face the disturbance that roused her, the female Hufflepuff’s shoulder-length hair silently brushed against the yellow collar of her robes. She seemed dimly surprised at having company all of a sudden but otherwise didn’t react; Professor Binns’s dull recounting of Hesphaestus Gore’s tenure as Minister for Magic was already making her drowsy again. Before nodding off completely, though, her eyes caught sight of the snoozing Puffskein currently resting in her desk mate’s lap. The boy was absently running a free hand through the lethargic but satisfied beast’s fur.
The girl’s brow furrowed in confusion, her gaze darting around as she tried to make sense of the strange sight before her. “Huh?” A tiny murmur of befuddlement escaped her but went totally unnoticed by her housemate, who was currently too busy jotting down notes on Minister Gore’s brutal crackdown of Britain’s werewolf population. Professor Binns’s dull lecture carried on—keeping the other students in an insensate stupor—but the girl was too abuzz with newfound questions to drift back off at the moment. Now fully awoken from her catnap, she grabbed at her quill and hurriedly scribbled down a question, quickly sliding it across the desk and leaning forward such that her housemate would take notice.
Why is Gerald here?
The male Hufflepuff spotted the note as it slid into view and turned to see that his partner was now very much awake and peering over in his direction, her brown eyes gleaming at him expectantly. While patiently awaiting an answer, the girl scooted along the bench, getting closer to him so as to instinctively shield her act of note passing from the others in class—not that anyone was even paying attention. The boy noted that she was a full head shorter than him—practically no taller than a second- or third-year student, though clearly older than one. Her straight brown hair—tucked neatly behind her ears and side-swept to the right atop her forehead—came to rest just below the shoulders. It was a hairstyle that charmingly accentuated her face—upon which she bore barely visible sun-kissed freckles, most noticeably around her ever-so-slightly flushed cheeks.
The teen took in all these specific features of the girl quickly, their sudden and unexpected closeness giving him a detailed view of her face as she stared up at him. ‘She's…’ His mind momentarily malfunctioned due to her proximity. He attempted to complete that sentence, trying to fill the void in his thoughts. ‘She's…’ What word was he looking for? Cute...? Pretty…? Beautiful...? All of the above, actually, but most importantly—'She's currently awaiting an answer! You blithering idiot!'
Realizing he’d been awkwardly staring for an uncomfortably long period of time, the boy turned back to the note and hastily responded to its inquiry with a single written word, figuring it would explain enough.
Peeves.
The girl’s mouth scrunched up rather adorably trying to make sense of that response. With Peeves involved, she knew almost anything could have happened; a dozen plausible explanations flashed before her as she considered ways the poltergeist could have employed Gerald in a prank. One constant united every possibility, however—they all ended the same way.
Did Gerald stick his tongue up your nose?
Straight to the point. The girl was undoubtedly familiar with the beast's uncouth tactics.
Maybe... He’s a rather ungrateful Puffskein, if I do say so.
He’s just ambitious. It’s one of his better qualities, actually.
The boy looked back up, making direct eye contact after reading that last sentence. He tilted his head, gave a so-so shake of his hand, and made a face as if to say, “I'm not so sure I agree.”
The girl quietly giggled at his exaggerated pantomime before tugging the note back to continue writing.
I think he likes you.
I'm still deciding. Can I be friends with everything but his tongue?
Package deal I'm afraid. But he'll grow on you eventually; you'll see. I’m Poppy, by the way—Poppy Sweeting.
Chapter 2: Rise and Shine
Summary:
One thing leads to another after sleeping through most of History of Magic class.
DISCLAIMER: No Puffskeins were harmed in the making of this chapter.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
‘Ugh—what time is it?’ The Hufflepuff’s eyes cracked open as a gentle hand on his shoulder stirred him back to consciousness. His unintentional catnap had left him hunched over a pile of incomplete and slightly drool-stained notes, with one arm serving as a makeshift pillow. The boy groaned inwardly, ‘I only meant to rest my eyes for a moment.’
Despite his intentions, succumbing to sleep in the back half of Professor Binns’s class had been inevitable. No human alive could endure one sedative hour of the ghost’s monotonous lecturing, much less make it through an entire two-hour double period unscathed. The new fifth year had nodded off during the apparition’s spiel on Porteus Knatchbull’s administration of the 1780s—snoring his way through the remainder of class after that.
Yet even asleep, his dreams could not fully escape the professor’s tedious oration. A wave of half-remembered names and dates swam to the forefront of the Hufflepuff’s unfocused mind. Despite being nearly comatose for the last hour, he could still hear the echoes of the professor’s lecture rattling around inside his brain—a deluge of useless trivia regarding long-deceased Ministers for Magic and their governing accomplishments. He hadn’t processed any of it while he slept, but—now awake—his head was spinning. ‘If I have to learn about one more politician today, I might just drop out of school…’
Thankfully, that would not be necessary. As his senses returned to him, it became apparent that Professor Binns was no longer lecturing—a merciful silence now permeating the mostly deserted room. That could only mean one thing—class had finally been dismissed. Free at last, the Hufflepuff shook every bit of tedious historical minutiae from his thoughts. Then he straightened up and craned his neck upward to meet the one who had roused him back to reality. Greeted by red robes and a familiar friend, he came face-to-face with—
“Natty! Good afternoon. Uh… it is afternoon, right?”
“A few minutes past noon. When the bell did not wake you, I took it upon myself to do so—hope you do not mind. I did not wish to see you sleep through lunch on your first day.”
“I appreciate it. Thank you.” He nodded with gratitude. “I have to ask, though—are all of Professor Binns’s classes equally as…” The boy trailed off for a moment, searching for a diplomatic way of describing the most miserably boring lecture he’d ever attended. “Er—lifeless?”
Natty grinned at the unintentional pun. “Hah, lifeless is an apt word where Professor Binns is concerned. They say that the professor went to sleep one night, and when he awoke the next morning, he didn't even realize that he had left his own body behind on the way to class. Can you imagine how frightened his students must have been?”
‘Probably the first—and only—time every single student stayed awake throughout the entirety of a Professor Binns lecture,’ mused the Hufflepuff to himself. With a straight-faced expression, he responded, “Natty, that is the most exciting historical fact I’ve heard in over two hours. If anyone should be teaching this class, it ought to be you.”
The Gryffindor chuckled at his deadpan humor but politely declined the offer. “Professor Binns is not the most exciting lecturer; it’s true. I admit I have slept through several of his classes myself, including today’s. However, I should note that even Uagadou, despite its many marvels, doesn't have any ghost professors. Don't you find that at least a little intriguing? Imagine all the historical events he lived through in his time—I fear my limited experiences would make me an inadequate replacement.”
“Nonsense, you’d be brilliant! I was hanging off of every word earlier as you taught me about Uagadou, and the lesson didn’t make me feel as though someone had just cast Stupefy on me—more than I can say for Professor Binns's class. There is only one upside to his teaching style: that was the best nap I’ve had all summer.” He punctuated his last comment with a yawn and a stretch to emphasize the point, eliciting a chuckle out of the Gryffindor. "Tell me, did Uagadou teach history any differently?"
“Oh, yes—it was far more dramatic. In Uganda, the professors would use Portkeys to take us on field trips; I found history far easier to grasp that way. The experience of visiting famous landmarks and observing ancient artifacts up close is incomparable. Traveling across Africa was far more exciting than learning history out of old tomes in the Hogwarts library—an exercise in frustration by comparison.”
“Uagadou’s style of teaching sounds inspired. It reminds me of Professor Ronen’s class in an odd way. I’m sure you miss it.”
“Oh, do not worry. I have very much enjoyed my time at Hogwarts despite the differences. And you are right—Charms class with Professor Ronen does remind me of home, in a way. He makes every class exciting; it is no wonder you were able to master Accio as quickly as you did.” The Ugandan smiled as she recalled their earlier competition, which served as a memorable way to kick off their first class of the new school year. Barring her own mother—whom she had a familial obligation to name the best professor at Hogwarts—Professor Ronen was Natty’s personal favorite teacher. He always encouraged friendly games and competition over dull lectures on theory or rote memorization, which she appreciated. “You improved so rapidly over the course of just a few games. That was quite an impressive win at the end.”
“I think I was just lucky, to be honest. You were ahead of me in points until the last round.”
“Do not undersell yourself. We may not have practiced Summoner’s Court back in Uganda—Uagadou specialized in Astronomy, Divination, and Self-Transfiguration, not Charms—but I must say, I have gotten quite skilled at the game over the past year. Outscoring me on your first day was no small accomplishment; take pride in your victory, my friend.” Natty could see the boy fidgeting under her effusive praise, so she patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. “There will be an ongoing competition later in the year; you should enter. Who knows—maybe you will even be our next champion.”
He wasn’t as confident in his abilities as the girl was—the final fifty-point shot he made earlier still appearing to largely be a matter of luck in his mind. ‘Ronen’s obstacles could just as easily have knocked the ball out of bounds.’ Still, he appreciated Natty’s confidence in his spellcasting abilities. Perhaps with some additional practice outside of class, he’d be willing to test his mettle against the school’s best players. In the meantime, however, he left his response at a simple, noncommittal, “We’ll see.”
“You and I can practice anytime.” Natty gave him a well-intentioned look of support while offering to help him train. Before he could contemplate a response, the girl noticed something and tilted her head quizzically—looking beyond him for a moment. From where she stood next to the sitting boy, she had a unique vantage point and was amused by what she could see. “You can let me know later; I think I will be going for now. Until next time.” The Ugandan gave him a final, encouraging shoulder pat as she walked past him. “Oh, and once I'm gone, take a moment to wake Poppy and her Puffskein companion, would you?" That comment had Natty smiling back at him as her final well wishes took on a sprightly playfulness. "Good luck, my friend.”
The Gryffindor made her way out of class, leaving the boy alone in the empty room. ‘Or rather, almost alone—in a room that was almost empty.’
Turning his head to the left, he saw his fellow housemate still fast asleep beside him, Gerald dozing in between the pair. The Puffskein was squeezed comfortably in the middle of the two Hufflepuffs—pressed up against their sides—as they all sat together on the bench. Idly, the teen boy had been running a hand through the beast’s soft coat during his conversation with Natty, finding the thick curls of Puffskein hair soothing to fidget with. However, he’d been unaware up until this exact moment that he’d been mere millimeters from brushing up against Poppy’s hand the entire time he was talking with the Gryffindor. To an outside observer, they may as well have been holding hands. ‘Well, that’s awkward.’
The boy was willing to tolerate his embarrassment, however. Sitting next to Poppy had made the entire class worthwhile in the end; she’d taught him a tremendous deal about Puffskeins in the past two hours and been able to answer several of his questions. Sure, he had learned very little actual history, but it was doubtful he would learn much history at all while sitting in this classroom—even if he did give Professor Binns’s lecture his undivided attention. ‘I'd probably just nod off faster in that case.’ Upon reviewing the few notes he had taken when not distracted or asleep, he found them to be a jumbled mess—a haphazard collection of random names and dates with very little coherence underlining them. Ultimately, he had learned far more about Beasts than History during class, all thanks to his desk mate.
The Hufflepuff girl remained slumped over their shared desk, her face concealed in the crook of one arm as her forehead rested atop an elbow. Even now she remained completely oblivious to the external world. But throughout her slumber, her right hand had remained entangled with Gerald’s fur—ensuring he couldn’t scamper off anywhere without waking her. This had proven an unnecessary precaution in the end—the contented critter clearly was not moving anytime soon.
At some point during class, the Puffskein had hopped off the boy’s lap to sit between them on the bench. They had each taken turns petting the beast while passing notes back and forth. ‘Poppy really does know a lot about Gerald.’ The girl had taken ample time to show off his preferred scratching spots—his absolute favorite being an area just under the chin. ‘Good—makes it easier to grab at his nosy tongue should the slippery devil make another unwelcome appearance.’
The new Hufflepuff was still smarting over that earlier incident. In class, Poppy sympathized with him as he bemoaned problematic Puffskein anatomy but reassured him that Gerald wasn't as bad as he thought. Ultimately, her assertion proved correct—the more she educated him about Gerald, the more he had warmed to the beast. He continued to maintain that the two were rivals but did so mostly in good humor. 'Key word being mostly… I'm still a tiny bit upset, but that’s alright because—’ because soon he would be free from babysitting his rival! Poppy's promise to return the critter to the Puffskein pens after class had lifted a significant burden from his shoulders. The boy certainly wouldn’t have known what to do with the creature without her. ‘Imagine eating lunch in the Great Hall while trying to guess which foods are safe for Gerald to consume…’
‘Speaking of which.’ He checked the clock on the wall and saw that now would certainly be the moment to leave if they wanted to return the Puffskein and still have plenty of time left to eat. But that realization brought with it a new dilemma as he glanced back over at the sleeping pair.
‘Seems cruel to wake them…’ He disliked the thought of rousing his companions when they were slumbering so peacefully beside one another. The boy couldn’t really make out Poppy’s features at the moment. She had buried her face in her left arm, and idle strands of loose hair—untucked from their usual resting spot behind her ears—further masked it. But even so, she seemed to radiate an aura of contentment, sitting there cuddled up against her Puffskein friend… ‘The two of them really do make for a charming pair.’
‘Ugh—stop staring before you make it weird. Just wake her up already.’ Natty did have a point; missing lunch on the first day of class would be unfortunate. Suppressing his lingering urge to leave them be, the boy decided to just get it over with. Standing up, he began to pack away his notes and school supplies, pretending he hadn't just been staring at his housemate for the past couple of minutes while lightly tapping her on the shoulder—as Natty had done for him earlier.
Poppy let out a bleary-sounding noise, inhaling loudly and exhaling a sigh as she regained consciousness. “Huh—What?”
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”
The girl looked around in a daze. Her confusion wore off quickly, however, once she locked eyes with her classmate and realized where they were. “Merlin’s Beard! I’d forgotten just how sleepy Professor Binns’s class can make a person,” exclaimed the well-rested Hufflepuff in an accent reminiscent of a softer, gentler version of British English. While they had communicated in class through notes, this was the first time he’d actually heard her voice in person. The genial tone suited the diminutive girl.
“We were both pretty out of it. Everyone else in class has already left us behind.”
Poppy looked around and saw that he was correct—they were alone in the classroom. Releasing a pent-up yawn, she stretched and tucked her hair back into place while packing away her belongings. “That was the best nap I’ve had all summer,” she mused aloud—half to herself and half to her new acquaintance.
“Ha, I had the same thought. Perhaps Gerald helped; his presence is therapeutic in that way.”
“Gerald…? Oh, right—Gerald!” Recalling that the beast had shared a bench with them during class, Poppy dropped her quill and scooped the critter into her arms. “Come here, my friend,” she urged while giving him a loving hug. In the tight embrace, she pressed a cheek right up against the Puffskein and lightly nuzzled his thick tousle of fur. The overjoyed critter released a melody of satisfied-sounding squeaks, delighted to receive Poppy’s full attention after an entire summer apart.
“Careful now—you’re within striking range of his ill-behaved tongue. And believe me, I do not recommend the experience.”
Suddenly reminded that her undignified display of affection had occurred in full view of a classmate, Poppy ripped herself away from the Puffskein as if its fur had caught fire. Lowering Gerald back down onto the bench, she looked away abashed. “Oh, Helga’s Heart—sorry, you didn’t need to see that. It’s only… I haven’t given him a proper hug since June. Could we maybe—I mean, would you…?" The girl was flustered and sputtering in embarrassment now, but he understood what she was trying to ask of him.
“Your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell a soul.” The boy made a motion of swearing himself to secrecy in a half-joking but sincere show of trustworthiness. Truthfully, he felt a little guilty over being the source of his housemate’s discomfort, having unintentionally witnessed her outpouring of love for the Puffskein. Not that there had even been anything to feel ashamed of; he found the whole act endearing, not embarrassing.
“Thank you,” mumbled Poppy in a low voice, barely audible even in the dead silent room.
He sensed her lingering nervousness, as if she feared ridicule at any moment, and further reassured the girl that he truly was not judging her affection for the Puffskein. “You’re okay—really. Honestly, I find it sweet that you and Gerald are so attached. He clearly adores you, and you seem to be excellent at managing him.” It was true; based on all she had taught him, she could easily write a book on raising Puffskeins—her knowledge was that extensive. “I can’t thank you enough for all the pointers in class. Now that I’ve a better sense for handling him, Gerald might just be growing on me.” He smiled at her and finished with one final thought. “You’d make for a brilliant professor, Poppy.”
The girl flushed and looked away again, utilizing the moment as an opportunity to pack up her remaining supplies. She had no idea how to respond to that compliment, so she didn’t. Once Poppy finished, she took the Puffskein back into her arms and turned to face the new fifth year again, still a bit flustered. “I’m sorry for whatever mess Peeves got you into earlier. I’ll go return Gerald now.” She then briskly made for the exit, blurting out a final goodbye as she hurried away. “It was nice meeting you!”
“Oh—” He hadn’t expected her to charge off so abruptly. 'Are you really just going to let her go? Do something!' Following the demands of his inner monologue, he called out after her. “Wait!” The girl paused at the door. “I thought… maybe we could return Gerald together? I was rather keen on seeing the beast pens in person; you made them sound like such wonderful fun.”
Poppy looked back in surprise. “You want to—?”
“Although I'd understand if you’re not interested in serving as a tour guide for the new student. I don’t want to be an imposition. I just hoped…” He held up his hands, conveying a conflicting mix of emotions as he struggled to find the right words. On the one hand, he genuinely wanted to avoid imposing if it was too much. On the other hand, he sincerely hoped she would say yes.
A shy smile broke through the embarrassment previously lining Poppy’s face. “Of course! You’re not an imposition. I’d be glad to show you around the pens if you’re that interested.”
“Wonderful—thank you. I’d love to learn more about magical creatures.” He completed his sentence and closed his mouth to prevent the 'with you' he'd been contemplating from inadvertently slipping out. For now, he preferred to keep that particular addendum to himself. He certainly was eager to meet all the magical creatures—feeling a touch too impatient to wait until the first Beasts class later this week. But—‘if I’m being honest’—he was mostly just thrilled at the prospect of spending more time with Poppy, finding himself instantly drawn to the girl.
He made his way over to her, and the pair walked out of class side by side, Gerald nesting comfortably in the arms of his favorite student. Once again awake, the critter’s round, childlike eyes darted between his two guardians, watching as they exchanged stories and got to know each other. The Puffskein wriggled about happily—thoroughly enjoying how the day’s events had unfolded so far.
“Hahahahaha, I cannot believe you did that!”
“What? Peeves was probably thirty feet in the air, at least! Gerald was in danger, wasn’t he?”
Poppy wiped away tears of laughter pricking at her eyes. She should feel bad; he didn’t know any better, but it was just too amusing! “No, Gerald was perfectly fine! Puffskeins love being thrown about. They’re just giant balls of soft, squishy fur; they enjoy being dropped and bounced. That’s why they make wonderful pets for little kids!” Her uncontained cackling continued to ring out. He hadn't told her the full story in class, but now that he had shared it with her during their walk to the beast pens, her laughter was loud enough to attract attention to the pair. Other students watched as the peculiar sight passed them by: Poppy Sweeting, brimming with laughter—Puffskein in hand—as she strolled through the halls of Hogwarts, accompanied by the mysterious new fifth-year.
The Hufflepuff girl didn’t even notice their lingering gazes, too busy giggling over the story. However, despite his eye-rolling disbelief, the boy was not so preoccupied and just barely overheard a nearby girl muttering, “Looks as if Poppy’s finally made a friend,” as they exited North Hall.
The duo made their way through the magnificent wooden doors leading outside to the Bell Tower Courtyard. He recognized the area as it had been the location of Summoner's Court earlier this morning. While their eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight, Poppy finally settled down enough for him to ask the follow-up question he’d been wondering.
“So… the fall wouldn’t have hurt him?”
Poppy smirked at the innocent naivety of his question before enlightening him. “You could drop Gerald from the top of Ravenclaw Tower, and he wouldn’t care. In fact, he’d probably ask you to drop him a second time. Watch!” Poppy abruptly paused mid-step, turning on her heels before hurling—literally hurling—Gerald against the nearby cobblestone wall. She caught him a moment later as the Puffskein perfectly rebounded back into her hands. The shocked boy made to check on the beast—terrified he might have been injured—only to see that Gerald was now chirping excitedly, clearly liking whatever game they were playing.
Poppy bounced the Puffskein off the wall a second time for good measure, glancing back to catch her companion’s reaction. She saw the Hufflepuff boy standing there—mouth agape—with his brow furrowing in incredulous disbelief. Clearly he was unfamiliar with magical beasts and the many fascinating qualities that differentiated them from non-magical animals. The look of astonishment on his face only served to make Poppy break out in a new fit of singsong giggles as she watched him sputter.
“I—Wha? That’s so not fair! I fell into putrid-smelling water to rescue the ungrateful prat, and you’re telling me he was having fun the whole time?”
“Yes! I’m sure Gerald enjoyed every minute of it!" Her laughter-filled voice sang out as she whirled her excited Puffskein friend about before adding a final thought. "And Peeves had to have known; he may be a malicious jokester, but I’ve never heard of him intentionally harming animals as part of a prank.”
The dispirited boy rolled his eyes as they stood outside in the courtyard—Poppy returning to her game of flinging Gerald about, entertaining the Puffskein to no end. Hogwart’s newest fifth year had recounted the entire story leading up to his late arrival in History of Magic only to learn that most of his suffering had been entirely avoidable—his own ignorance of Puffskein biology landing him flat on his ass and with a three-foot tongue up his nose for no reason at all. ‘Sigh… a self-inflicted defeat for the ages. I’m never going to live it down.’ Poppy had cracked up at his recounting of events, and even Gerald, in his excitement, now appeared to be mocking him. The boy came to the conclusion that he preferred the Puffskein asleep, back when he was still silently cradled in Poppy's arms. ‘Just you wait, you smug little imp. Our rivalry is far from over.’
The girl paused her game of Catch the Puffskein—shifting to face him once more. Poppy’s smile seemed impossibly large given her small stature, but she still felt a deal of sympathy for the new student despite what her ongoing laughter might suggest. He had put himself in harm’s way with the intention of saving Gerald’s life. In Poppy's experience, very few witches or wizards would have taken such a risk, and it was comforting to know that there were at least some decent people at Hogwarts who cared about the safety of beasts.
Composing herself and sounding sincere as she addressed him this time, the girl offered up a token of condolence. “For what it’s worth…” She looked up to meet his eyes, an earnest look flashing over her face as she beamed at him. “I think it was very heroic of you to rescue Gerald so selflessly.”
“Except he didn’t actually need rescuing,” groaned the boy.
“Well—you didn’t know that at the time. It’s the thought that counts!”
“If you say so. Though I’m not convinced there’s anything heroic in being bested by a Puffskein and a Poltergeist.”
“Nor is there anything particularly gallant about wearing robes reeking of Stinkcap—I would leave that part out of your memoirs if I were you—but I still think you’re a hero.”
The male Hufflepuff rolled his eyes, pulling away from their shared private moment to take the lead as they continued down the path together. Poppy—trailing behind—could no longer see the boy's face. This was fortunate for him, as he battled against an escalating blush and tried to stifle the soft smile creeping over him in that moment. Breathing slowly, he attempted to calm himself before she could notice his reaction to her labeling him a hero.
The two pressed on, a cozy quiet enveloping them as they soaked in their surroundings. They strolled past dozens of excited students who were out enjoying their lunch period in the courtyard. Some were flying kites in the shape of house mascots. Others were practicing with Quidditch gear despite Headmaster Black’s cancellation of games this year. Many more were simply standing and chatting, catching up with their friends and classmates. After spending months apart, they regaled each other with tales of their summertime adventures. On the periphery, a few couples could be spotted. Some held hands, others cuddled on benches, and one couple—most boldly of all—was publicly making out in a barely secluded hiding spot. They were evidently too eager for physical contact after their long separation to care who witnessed the act.
Hogwarts was alive with new students and fresh energy after a summer of inactivity. Despite his earlier misgivings and a day full of maddening misfortune, the boy did not doubt this was the place where he wanted to be right now in his life. It had been a long road to reach this place; yesterday's memories still hung over him like a haunting apparition, clawing and threatening to consume him. But he was able to put them aside for the time being. This was what he wanted. Learning magic inside a castle full of wonders, surrounded on all sides with excitement, going on all sorts of new adventures, and—‘Keeping good company doesn’t hurt either… No, Gerald, I'm not talking about you!'
Out of the corner of his eye, the boy could just make out Poppy as she caught up with him, a carefree smile still visible on her face. In the congenial silence hanging over them, they ambled idly towards their destination, giving him time to consider his new Hufflepuff companion. The passion she had for beasts was laudable. Her love for Gerald had been obvious in the way she’d so jubilantly nuzzled up against him after class. While the boy hadn’t meant to make her feel embarrassed over the display, he was glad to have witnessed it. ‘They really do make for an adorable pair.’
Poppy, unlike Natty and Sebastian, exuded a reserved demeanor and was also more easily flustered. She seemed like a bit of an introvert, yet they were getting along well so far. Above all, her kind heart was readily apparent in every interaction. Yes, she had been laughing at him a few minutes ago, but there had never been any malice to it. It hadn’t been a mocking laughter; she merely laughed along to the humor of the situation, and she’d even called him a hero to cheer him up afterwards. Maybe she was just being nice to placate him—or perhaps he was getting ahead of himself—but he liked to think they could be friends someday.
‘Looks as if Poppy’s finally made a friend.’ The words he’d overheard just a little while ago still rang in the back of his mind. ‘But… surely Poppy has plenty of friends, right?’ Who wouldn’t want to be friends with a sweet-natured girl like her? He thought back to class earlier and how exceptionally helpful she'd been. They had ended up passing dozens of messages back and forth, only half paying attention to the parts of the lecture they’d actually been awake for. He really should’ve been studying and taking more notes—he had four years of work to catch up on after all. But he had been enjoying her company too much in the moment to care. ‘Well, if other people can’t see how wonderful she is, that’s their loss.'
The boy had really been enjoying their time together so far and hoped it would continue. He considered ways he could make that happen. They would take their meals together at the same table; it would be effortless to extend an invitation to sit and eat lunch together once they were done here. ‘There's an idea. Just try not to ruin this, you moron. Keep up the good first impression; I am begging you.’
Feeling that the quiet between them had gone on for too long, the teen took a stab at idle small talk as they walked abreast, trying to get the conversation flowing once more. “So… how long have you and Gerald been friends?”
“As long as I’ve been at Hogwarts, actually. I met him on my first day!” She beamed, tightening her hug on the beast in question as she walked. “Although Professor Howin nearly gave me detention over it.”
“Really! Why?”
“Well—strictly speaking—students aren’t permitted to spend time in the beast pens outside of class, at least not without permission.”
“Poppy Sweeting, are you telling me you’re a known rule-breaker with a record? And here I thought you’d be a better influence than Sebastian Sallow.” He put a hand to his mouth, feigning scandal.
“Hey! I’m not that bad!” She protested, but her amused smile, which she struggled to conceal, betrayed her mock offense. "And as long as you're with me, you'll avoid detention today. I have Howin's approval now, if that's your concern. But I was a first-year back then and limited to taking core subjects; Beasts class is off-limits until third year as it’s an elective. A fact which I’ll never understand or agree with—magical creatures should be required learning for everyone—but that’s how it works around here, unfortunately.”
‘Definitely hadn’t known that.’ Having started as a fifth year, the teen was genuinely unaware how the Hogwarts experience differed for underclassmen. It made some sense that the professor wouldn’t allow eleven-year-olds to freely run amongst her potentially dangerous beasts, but clearly that hadn’t stopped Poppy on her first day. “So—you couldn’t get permission and chose to sneak in, huh?” He tapped his chin, considering the idea for a moment. "That definitely sounds like something Sebastian would do."
Poppy scoffed at the repeated comparisons to Hogwarts's all-time record holder for the most detentions served. "All I did was visit the Puffskeins and Kneazles during lunch, nothing too crazy," she rebutted, justifying her action. "I was excited! The pens were brimming with innocent beasts; there were no poachers around—they didn't fear human contact. I could finally step into a world of contented animals coexisting peacefully among witches and wizards. To me, that was…” Her voice trailed off, losing its outgoing energy. She concluded her thought in a pensive whisper, reflecting on that moment in her life. “Well, it was a dream come true back then.”
“But then the professor caught you living the dream and chewed you out over it, I surmise?”
“Howin was furious—thought I was going to accidentally anger one of her Kneazles and end up getting an eye clawed out.”
“And yet she didn’t give you any detention in the end?”
“Er—no… In the end, she, uh… didn’t.” Poppy’s muted voice took on a hint of disquiet. She was uncomfortable with where the questions were leading, but the boy didn’t pick up on her growing unease.
“So, what did you do? Put on your best sad eyes and beg that it was only your first day?”
She shook her head and shot him a look, which he failed to notice. “That’s not how—"
He cut her off, raising his voice a couple octaves in an impression of a frightened eleven-year-old. “Please, professor, have mercy on me! I didn’t know what I was doing. The beasts were just so pretty; I had never seen a Kneazle up close before!”
Poppy froze in place. He turned to see she was… indignant? Unlike her faux offense at the Sebastian comparisons earlier—which had only been in jest—she was actually frustrated now. The girl’s voice flushed with emotion as she recounted the full memory from start to finish, something she preferred to avoid. “Well, for starters, I begged the professor to ‘have mercy on me’ by explaining that her Kneazles were exhibiting none of the telltale signs of aggression. No arched backs, no raised tail plumages, no hissing or swatting, no scratching, nor marking their territory.”
“Oh…?”
He wanted to respond, yet the diminutive Hufflepuff remained energetic and unrelenting. She barreled on with what may as well have been a full-throated thesis on Kneazle behavioral patterns. “Then I demonstrated to Howin that I knew her Kneazles weren’t bothered by my presence from the way they loosely congregated about instead of posturing up defensively. From the way they kept their ears lowered and off guard. From the way they brushed up against my hands—which I knew to hold outstretched, palm up, and with my gaze lowered to build trust.”
“Poppy—"
Overruled again. "But none of that was even necessary, as the Kneazles around me were effectively house pets—domesticated and comfortable with human contact—posing no threat to anyone. I knew Howin wasn’t worried about them attacking me. No, it was only that one stunted Kneazle in the back of the pen—the female runt I pointed out to her—that was the antisocial one. And I assured the professor I’d been keeping my distance from the poor girl.” Poppy’s voice only grew more strained as she continued. “I mean, what did Howin think I was going to do? Force an abused animal to play with me? She’d obviously been born into captivity—bred by poachers and starved as a kitten to keep her small."
"I didn't—"
The girl was so consumed with anger at the world that she barely even heard him. "You see, it's more profitable to sell scrawny, underdeveloped Kneazles. Wealthy pureblood families all want dainty pets, but they’re too snobby to adopt a smaller half-cat, half-Kneazle hybrid—those are impure." Poppy spat that last word out of her mouth in disgust. “So instead, they demand ‘Pygmy Kneazles’ from disreputable sellers—too stupid to realize Pygmy Kneazles don’t actually exist!” The girl’s impassioned rant came to an end. At some point, her hands had clenched into fists. A darkened expression lingered over her; the pain in her tone had made it very clear that her extensive knowledge of Beasts was matched only by her empathy for them.
Humbled by the verbal coup de grâce she’d just delivered, the boy didn’t know what to say. “Poppy, I… I’m sorry.” How else could he even respond to that? He’d insulted her intelligence and brought her back to a memory that was clearly very hurtful to recount. He didn't have to imagine what that was like; he'd been trying to avoid the same fate all day. Whether intentional or not, he had made a complete ass of himself.
Poppy shut her eyes for a moment and sighed, struggling to recompose herself. Eventually she let out a dejected, “It’s not your fault,” as the anger went out of her—in its absence, a worn sadness fell over the girl. The boy had rarely seen this new emotion in his young life; after all, no fifteen-year-old should be of an age where they've experienced it for themselves.
The new fifth year stood there awkwardly. Trying to find anything to say, he lamely filled the void with the first words that came to mind. “That was quite a speech.”
The dispirited girl apologized, feeling guilty at having blown up like that. “I got carried away; I’m sorry. That… That was an overreaction.”
"Merlin, don't apologize. I'm the one at fault." The boy glanced away abashed, rubbing at his neck, trying to figure out what to say next. He did not know what to make of the unexpected situation but felt terrible seeing her in such a somber state. He wanted to comfort her but didn’t know how. “Are you… okay? Do you want to talk about any of it?”
“No. But—thank you.”
Awkward silence again. Still grasping for words, he figured a second apology probably couldn’t hurt. “I didn’t mean to go and ruin the conversation like that. I really am sorry. Could we just forget my awful attempts at humor?
“You don’t have to apologize either.” She glanced his way, trying to force a look that said she hadn’t been upset at him. “In a way, what you said was… actually somewhat nice.” The boy looked at her, perplexed by the admission after witnessing her react as she had just a minute earlier. Poppy thought for a moment and then elaborated, “I guess what I'm trying to say is, uh—it’s been a long time since anyone accused me of not knowing my way around magical creatures.” She let out a self-deprecating laugh. “It’s basically the only trait I’m known for at Hogwarts; everyone else thinks I’m an odd bird for spending so much time around beasts—for seeing them as more than just livestock or potion reagents. But you’re new here—of course you wouldn’t know about that yet. It was nice talking to someone who assumed I was normal for a change.” She kicked at a loose pebble, looking away from the boy and biting the inside of her cheek. “Now you know the truth, though; I’m weird. I’m just… Peculiar Poppy.”
‘Is that how she sees herself?' Did she really believe he’d think less of her for that? That he would belittle her for coming to the impassioned defense of abused Kneazles? For enjoying the company of animals and wanting to protect them? The very idea seemed mental.
With as sweet and soothing a tone as he could muster, he voiced his admiration for the girl. "I think it's very noble of you to care so much about magical creatures, Poppy. There's nothing strange in that. In fact, the rest of us should be following your example. The world would be a better place if we did. So please, believe me when I say there's nothing peculiar about you.” He smiled at the girl, hoping she would take his words to heart, though he couldn't tell for certain. Mostly, that response just seemed to have caught her off-guard, so he continued with a joke, hoping to reintroduce a little levity into the conversation. “Well…” He looked between the girl and the Puffskein held in her arms, biting his lip. “Perhaps you’re a little too trusting of Gerald and that slippery tongue of his. Hearing you refer to my dastardly rival as your friend is a little peculiar—he’s a menace to society! But other than that, you’re fine.” Poppy finally barked out a laugh—a real laugh this time, not a self-deprecating one—as the two resumed their walk.
An odd friction still lingered, but at least emotions had settled. The teen let out a nervous breath—one he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding in. Despite Poppy never explicitly directing her anger at him, he had nonetheless triggered her outburst. The new fifth year was glad she didn’t seem to be holding it against him; the last thing he wanted right now was to irreparably mar his fledgling relationship with the girl. 'At least she feels better now.' He wasn't sure what this was between them, but he genuinely thought she was a benevolent person and didn't deserve whatever tortured memories had brought that forlorn look to her face earlier.
The two continued on their way for a time before the boy broke the silence again. “I’m amazed at how much you know about Beasts. Even as a first-year, you probably knew more than most of the upperclassmen.”
“It's the one thing I’m recognized for. I suppose you could say I..." She was selecting her words carefully, “picked up a few tidbits here and there as a child.”
“Do you mind if I ask what happened after your big speech to Professor Howin?”
“She didn’t know what to make of me at first. Howin began quizzing me on all sorts of Beasts trivia to see if my Kneazle knowledge was just a fluke.”
“And?”
Poppy smiled softly, a small amount of pride bubbling up at the memory. "After she finished, the professor granted me permission to visit the beast pens anytime I wanted—as long as I helped with feedings and brushings."
“That’s brilliant, Poppy! I bet you could have passed your O.W.L. before even receiving your Hogwarts acceptance letter.”
“I’m not sure I’d go that far, but certainly I knew enough to handle my way around a Puffskein pen unsupervised. And that’s how I ended up meeting this little guy.” He observed that the last of her apparent sadness seemed to vanish as she hugged her friend tightly. “He was the first Puffskein to greet me after I got Howin’s approval, and we’ve been good mates ever since. Well, most of the time at least—occasionally he does go a bit overboard with his tongue.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying!”
“It’s all part of his charm, though. He’s an ambitious and determined ball of fur. Isn’t that right, my little puff?” Poppy began scratching under Gerald’s chin, causing the critter to wiggle about and emit low hums of joy. She sighed contentedly, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them and realizing where they were. “Looks like we’re nearly there.”
Caught up in their dialogue, neither had noticed just how close they’d gotten to their destination. A large, multi-room hovel had long since appeared over the horizon, clearly a home that allowed the professor to maintain a watchful eye over her beasts. At the rear end of the domicile stood a large, attached pavilion that served as a makeshift outdoor classroom. It had a number of standing desks for students to work at, several blackboards, and a large supply of feeders, brushes, birdcages, and other necessities. Beyond that stood the pens, where a wide variety of beasts were now coming into view.
Puffskeins hopped around inside their fenced enclosures. Large catlike creatures—‘presumably the Kneazles’—prowled about their pens while others in the herd curled up to sunbathe. A group of oddly colored birds tittered at one another as they wandered the class’s exterior perimeter. The fact that the avians meandered about free and uncaged made much more sense to the boy when one of them suddenly teleported—proving a simple fence would not hold the feathered escape artists.
Poppy started off in a run, too excited to maintain their previous leisurely pace. “Come on—you have so many introductions to make!”
“And last but not least, this is Persephone.” Poppy was gently brushing some accumulated knots out of the Kneazle’s tail plumage. “She’s… the one I mentioned earlier; a rescue the school took in years ago as a kitten—after Professor Hecat took down a massive poacher ring.” That story was familiar to him, at least, having heard it briefly mentioned in class. Poppy gestured for him to approach Persephone at a slow pace. “I wanted to introduce her last so she’d have time to adjust to you being here. Just go very slowly—she’s a sweet girl once you get to know her, but it’s challenging for her to trust new people after everything she’s been through.”
The boy crouched down, avoiding eye contact as he held an open palm out. Poppy continued with her instruction. “You must always treat her with kindness—she’s usually reserved but is quick to anger if you do anything mean-spirited.” Persephone cautiously sniffed at his palm, curious about the new arrival in her pen. The boy hesitated, unsure if he should actually reach out to touch the Kneazle yet or if that would only frighten her off, but Poppy allayed his concerns. “Don’t overthink it. She may not be the most social, but she's improved over time and has a knack for sensing intentions. I’m certain that if you treat her well, she’ll grow to love you in time.”
“Alright then, here goes.”
The Hufflepuff girl smiled as her two companions finally made contact. She had a feeling they would get along, and Persephone really did need more friends in her life. It had been a long road, but the Kenazle’s mistrustful nature was finally starting to mend. “See, she likes you!”
The boy lightly scratched at the beast, speaking to her quietly so as to build trust. “It’s nice to meet you, friend. Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you.” He could feel the underlying tension in the Kneazle's muscles—like she was ready to jump away from him at any moment—and it filled him with an instant sense of protectiveness. Even as a novice, he could see the differences between Persephone and the other Kneazles. She was smaller and prowled lower to the ground—a standoffish nervousness clinging to her. He wondered if he would have even made it this far into her good graces if not for the familiar presence of Poppy keeping the girl calm.
As he continued petting the Kneazle, he could just trace a knotted scar underneath her fur that had never properly healed. At once he understood Poppy’s ire towards poachers; the thought that anyone could be so cruel towards such a sweet girl filled him with anger—which he tamped down on only to avoid scaring his new Kneazle friend. 'I hope Hecat made them suffer.' It was not a very Hufflepuff thought on his part—more something a Slytherin would be thinking—but it was how he felt in that moment. Seeing Persephone's nervousness with his own eyes and feeling the physical reminders of the abuse she'd endured as a kitten enraged him. Out of a compulsion to provide her some sense of security, he whispered a promise—hoping she might understand. “Nobody is ever going to hurt you again,” he looked back up at Poppy. “We won’t let them.”
Poppy beamed at him as Persephone began to purr. The Hufflepuff girl resumed her work of untangling knots in the Kneazle's tail as they both remained crouched in the dirt, pampering the feline. “Don’t tell the others, but,” Poppy trailed off, her eyes shifting back and forth suspiciously, checking that none of the other Kneazles were within earshot as she whispered, “between you and me, Persephone here is my favorite.” The girl ended by putting a finger to her lips, the universal sign for silence and secrecy.
"Seems I’m keeping a lot of secrets for you today,” joked her male counterpart. Poppy blushed, suddenly reminded of her earlier interaction with Gerald, which he had—humiliatingly—been witness to. “Don’t worry. Hufflepuffs are known for their loyalty, right? You can trust me.”
Poppy mumbled something to herself inaudibly.
“What was that?”
“Nothing!” She quickly moved to change the subject. “Merlin—it seems Persephone has really taken a shine to you!” The Kneazle’s face was now forcefully nuzzling itself into the boy’s hand, demanding he scratch a few particular spots the beast kept pressing his fingertips against. The open display of affection shocked the more knowledgeable Hufflepuff. “She’s never warmed to anyone that quickly before.”
Poppy's watchful gaze met the boy's as he continued to stroke his new Kneazle friend's fur in the exact manner she'd taught him, from head to tail and without applying too much pressure. “If she likes me so much, it’s probably only because I had such a brilliant teacher.”
“I can’t take all the credit. You definitely have a natural rapport with her.”
“I’d wager my wand that you’re just being humble.”
“Quite an object to gamble with. Especially on someone you just met today.”
He chuckled, admitting that the wager wasn't particularly risky. “Well, I don’t actually have my own wand to gamble with yet, so it wouldn’t be much of a bet. I’ve been using a loaned wand all summer. But that’ll change after a visit to Hogsmeade later today.”
Poppy’s eyes widened at the admission. “You beat Natty at Summoner’s Court using a loaned wand?” She was genuinely surprised. Just how powerful of a wizard was this mysterious new student? “She’s one of the better players too! At this rate, you might be the school's next champion."
The boy’s face scrunched up, perplexed how she’d heard of his match with Natty so soon. “Word must travel quickly at Hogwarts. I’m surprised you know about that already.”
“I was there, silly! We’re actually in the same class.”
“Oh?” How did he not realize that? ‘Godric’s Heart, you're such an idiot sometimes…’ It’s not as if Professor Ronen had been teaching a particularly large class either. “Merlin, I’m sorry, Poppy. That was unbelievably rude of me. No idea how I missed that.”
“No, it’s alright. You can't expect to remember every face on your first day. Besides, Natty took up most of your attention in class, and you had a match to concentrate on.” Evidently, Poppy had been paying attention to him in Charms class, even though he hadn't remembered her at all. “You definitely don’t have to apologize for anything! Natty’s always been the brave one—introducing herself to every new face right away.” Poppy laughed, recalling how the Gryffindor had approached her in class a day after being sorted at the beginning of their fourth year. “You should’ve seen her when she first transferred—probably knew the name of every student at Hogwarts before the end of her first week. Compared to me—well, I know the names of every beast at Hogwarts, but as for the students? They aren’t interested in getting to know the girl notorious for rolling around in dirt all day with animals.”
“Beasts do make for enjoyable company, but people aren’t always so bad. I hope you’ll at least give me a chance. I wouldn’t mind rolling around in the dirt with you from now o—” The boy froze, mouth agape as his brain finally caught up with his mouth. His eyes were wide with terror, the mortifying innuendo causing him to mentally kick himself. ‘WHY—WOULD YOU SAY IT—LIKE THAT?!’ One part of his mind was busy berating his stupidity while another begged him to say something—anything—to fix this mess. “That is… Uh—what I meant to say was—”
“I understand what you meant.” Her sincere tone—reassuring and gentle—was not something his clumsy words and fumbled recovery deserved; in his opinion, what he deserved was a slap across the face. However, she only dismissed his silliness with a shy smile, extending an invitation and making light of his embarrassment, saying, "You clearly have Persephone's approval. I trust her judgment in people, so you’re… um, welcome back to the dirt in the future?” Poppy awkwardly concluded her dubious attempt at humor by showing off her teeth; her stained and slightly embarrassed look meant to convey she'd cracked a joke but was uncertain if it had landed.
The boy blinked, closing his mouth and praying he could, at minimum, avoid another disastrous faux pas until lunch was over. “Thanks, Poppy.” He spoke in a quiet tone, looking down awkwardly. ‘Does that invitation mean we're going to be friends?’ It was a bit noncommittal. Natty was easy to read, and Sebastian had outright requested he join a secret dueling club. He was confident they were signing up to be his friends at the time. The Hufflepuff girl was more introverted, however. ‘I guess time will tell.’
Refocusing his attention on the sunbathing Kneazle, the boy started scratching her back while she happily received the affection. Persephone was purring with her eyes closed as the two worked on pampering her. After a few more minutes of silence, her breathing slowed, a sure sign that she had drifted off into a peaceful slumber. ‘Well, at the very least, Persephone and I are certainly friends now.’ It was a positive sign she felt safe enough to fall asleep in his presence. As he watched her chest slowly rise and fall, the boy perked up once again. “I suppose we’re done here?”
“Looks like it.” They both glanced around at the pens full of satisfied critters. The pair had been in one enclosure or another for nearly half an hour now, introducing themselves to, or in Poppy's case, mostly reuniting with, all the Kneazles and Puffskeins, as well as any Diricawls who didn't immediately disappear as they approached. Gerald, like many of the beasts in the surrounding area, lay snoring in his pen. The afternoon sun filtered through the foliage from high above, bathing the area in a balmy heat that, when combined with a gentle breeze rolling over the nearby lake, created the perfect atmosphere for a midday snooze between classes.
‘I’d be getting sleepy myself if not for that earlier nap in Professor Binns’s class.’ After giving Persephone one final, drawn-out scratch down the length of her back, the new fifth-year removed himself from the Kneazle. He stood and returned his attention to the Hufflepuff girl beside him, who was busy dusting off her dress—they had spent a considerable amount of time this lunch period crouched in the dirt, and it showed on their clothes. “Thanks for bringing me along, Poppy; I had a lot of fun meeting everyone.”
“Gerald, Persephone, and the others enjoyed it too. I think we owe it to them to do this again sometime.”
‘That’s wonderful to hear!’ Poppy was actively requesting there be a next time, not just suggesting he could return in the future if he felt so inclined. The thought that she wanted him to join her again made him exuberantly happy; now he just needed to accept without saying anything too foolish. “Well… uh—I will be in Beasts class with you this year. I’m sure we can make this a regular occurrence—for Persephone’s sake, of course.” He paused for a moment before amending his statement with an admission. “Actually, probably more for my sake; I’m going to need a lot of help passing the O.W.L.s this year.”
“I can’t imagine starting as a fifth year." The girl could certainly sympathize with his plight. "I’m fretting about O.W.L.s, and I don’t have four years’ worth of homework to catch up on.” Poppy grimaced at the thought of squeezing five years’ worth of study into one, a shudder making its way through her neck and shoulders.
"Apparently, I'm going to receive additional assignments to help me catch up. This year will be… intriguing to say the least.”
She looked at him with kindly eyes and smiled. "Let me know if you ever need help with your assignments in Howin's class; as you may have noticed, I'm rather well-versed in Beasts."
The boy chuckled, "Yes, I gathered. While we're here, is there anything you'd like to share with the class, Professor?
"First lesson…” Poppy’s smile warped into a mischievous grin as she perfectly recited an excerpt from memory. “A full-grown adult Puffskein can extend its prehensile tongue up to forty-six inches in any direction. Note that they have a specific tendency to target undefended mucous membranes. As such, masks or nose plugs are recommended while handling to prevent unwanted nasal intrusions."
“Ugh—don’t remind me, or I’m going to find a different Beasts tutor.” He rolled his eyes and waved her off jokingly. Secretly, however, he found himself floored by the number of facts his new acquaintance could recall about magical creatures with textbook accuracy. She possessed an abundance of knowledge about beasts. 'If Howin ever has to leave the school, Poppy could teach the course herself.'
The Hufflepuff girl snickered at his histrionics. She couldn’t help teasing him; he was easily flustered, and it was just too easy to make him roll his eyes in a manner she found oddly endearing. “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re enrolled in Beasts. What’s your other elective, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Divination—reading the future sounded far more exciting than Muggle Studies or Arithmancy.”
“We are going to be seeing a lot of each other this year.”
“You’re in Divination as well?”
Poppy nodded. “Mm-hmm. I followed the same reasoning as you when I had to choose my electives a couple years back. It is a fun course, but you should definitely find a different tutor for that one. As much as I love Professor Onai and her lessons, I’ve no talent for Divination. All I can say for certain about my future is that I won’t be working in the ministry as a Seer, that’s for sure.”
“Well, if I develop a knack for Divination, then I’ll happily help you prepare for the O.W.L. Repayment for all you’ve taught me about Beasts.” He grinned, not quite as mischievously as she had, but it was fun to play off her own words. “First lesson: there’s a lot you can predict with certainty beyond future career paths—one only need observe their environment closely.” He made an exaggerated show of reading the sun's movement across the afternoon sky before dramatically finishing. “The sight has revealed to me that we are definitely going to miss lunch if we don’t leave for the Great Hall posthaste.”
“Truly a prognostication for the ages.” Poppy deadpanned before chuckling at his antics. His prediction hardly inspired a sense of awe, but the theatrics were cute.
The boy held open the fence gate as they made their impending exit. He then followed through on his idea from earlier. “I try. And I’m starving. Care to join me at the Hufflepuff table today?”
Poppy walked out of the pen but looked behind her, away from the school. “Er—actually I’m going to have to pass. There’s someone I really want to meet up with before my next class. Which means I’ll be taking that path back there.”
“Oh…? Well, alright then.” He was perplexed by the trail she had indicated towards—it only seemed to lead deeper into the forest and away from civilization—but she would certainly know the layout of the school grounds better. However, he was determined to ensure she didn't go hungry; the girl was slender enough as is and needed to eat. “I was serious about missing lunch. Is there anything you’d like me to grab for you? I have a free study period after this; it wouldn’t be any trouble to drop it off outside your next class.”
“No, that’s alright. I’ll grab some fruit from one of the serving trays in the castle. Thank you, though.” Indeed, Hogwarts had a plentiful supply of miscellaneous food scattered about the castle. In particular, there were lots of sweets inside their shared common room—one advantage to living in the dorm located nearest the kitchen.
“Okay.” He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little disappointed they were parting ways. But, with Poppy gone, he wouldn’t have to worry so much about embarrassing himself anymore; he’d done enough of that already. He said his goodbyes and turned back for the castle. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Poppy. Until next time.”
“See you soon. And good luck picking out your new wand!”
The two departed, heading in opposite directions at a less-than-leisurely pace. Having used up most of their lunch period on the beasts, they now found themselves rushed and with limited time remaining. Despite this, neither one of them regretted the extra time they'd spent together—both wishing it could have lasted for longer.
Meanwhile, Gerald and Persephone snorted contentedly in their respective pens as the pair of Hufflepuffs hurried off, wondering when the delightful couple would return to indulge them once more.
“Hello Arthur, mind if I sit with you?” Hogwart’s enigmatic new student had maintained a brisk pace right up until arriving at his House’s table in the Great Hall. He had reached his destination with precious little time to spare—most of the tables now empty as lunch neared its conclusion. Fortunately, the boy recognized at least one face, saving him from having to sit with total strangers.
“Take a seat, friend; there’s plenty to choose from—one advantage to being so late for lunch.”
“Thanks.” The newer Hufflepuff sat across from Arthur, helping himself to an apple, a bread roll, some peas and gravy, as well as a few slices of roast turkey. He had worked up quite an appetite after spending the morning navigating such an enormous castle. He was probably the most out-of-shape fifth-year at Hogwarts, unused to climbing so many stairs in one day; everyone else his age had been doing it for four years now. ‘No wonder they’re all so thin.’
The Floo Network existed, of course—Professor Weasley had even shown him how to operate it—but Floo powder wasn’t free. At two sickles a scoop, it really wasn’t worth using just to skip a light jaunt here or there. And the professor had greatly emphasized the importance of always paying full price for brand-name Floo, avoiding cheap knockoffs at all costs. “If you have any innovative ideas to save a few Knuts, do yourself a favor and forget them now. Many have tried getting around Floo-Pow’s prices using homemade substitutes; so far, all attempts have ended in a long stay at St Mungo’s.” Thus, he could only afford to use Floo powder sparingly for the time being. But that wasn’t so bad; walking did have its upsides—‘such as getting to eat more of this delicious food.’
His mouth watered at the sight of lunch—the house-elves preparing a veritable feast with every meal. The Sorting Ceremony had included the Start-of-Term Feast, and therefore, the massive banquet served alongside it had hardly been a surprise. But he never expected to see that same quality and quantity of cuisine prepared for every meal; breakfast had been an enormous surprise this morning. He speared a slice of turkey with his fork—dipping it in some gravy—before savoring every delectable bite of the succulent roast. In his indulgence, he'd almost forgotten about his fellow Hufflepuff, only to absently realize that Arthur was currently staring at him appraisingly.
“What?” asked the new fifth year—mouth half full, but too rushed finishing his meal to care for proper table manners at the moment.
“Just wondering where you got lost on the way to lunch? I did warn you this morning; the castle is a maze.” He laughed with a touch of self-modesty. "Trust me, I should know; I can't tell you how many times, during my first week at Hogwarts, I wandered into a dead-end hallway—not knowing how to get to class."
Swallowing his most recent bite of food before answering, to maintain some amount of dignity and decorum, the new student replied, “I didn't get lost. I heeded your advice, and Professor Weasley gave me a map to help navigate the castle—so no trouble there. But I was sidetracked." He didn't have enough time to narrate the entire story, so he simply gave Arthur a brief summary. "Peeves played a practical joke on me, and I needed to return a Puffskein to the Beast pens afterwards. Thankfully, I got help on that from another Hufflepuff.” He took a sip of pumpkin juice to wash down some bread before continuing, “I have to say, you were right this morning; magical creatures are brilliant! That is, provided you handle them properly. Unfortunately, your mother isn’t the only one who can say she's had a puffskin tongue up her nose now. But at the very least, I'm not vindictive enough to send Gerald back to the pet store… yet."
Arthur chuckled, "Sounds like you've had quite the morning. I’m glad you got to meet some of the beasts, though. I wish I could take one of them home with me in the summertime, if only Mother would tolerate them. They truly are the best part about being at Hogwarts!”
“I think… I might just have to agree with you on that.” The boy was indeed looking forward to spending more time around the beasts this year—‘purely for academic purposes, obviously.’ That, of course, was the sole reason for his newfound interest in them. 'Although… Haha!' He chuckled to himself as he considered the competition the beasts had to overcome to win the 'best part of Hogwarts' award. "It's not as if Peeves's hijinks or Professor Binns's lectures set a very high standard."
Arthur leaned forward, whispering so as to muffle his voice from any nearby eavesdroppers. "And both are only growing more insufferable with time. Each year, Peeves's pranks seem to get meaner, while Professor Binns reaches a new level of boredom."
“You’d think History class wouldn’t change much between years, wouldn’t you? How could it be getting worse?”
“I think it has something to do with Professor Binns teaching more and more history that occurred after his own death. Nobody’s precisely sure on the year he died, but it’s been a while now. I always wondered how he stays up-to-date on world events; it’s not as if he can pick up a copy of the Daily Prophet on his own.”
The Hufflepuff pondered the implications of that as he swallowed a bite of apple. “That’s an interesting observation; I hadn’t thought of that. Are his N.E.W.T. students helping him? Every morning, the professor asks one of his poor seventh-years to hold the paper open so he can read the headlines. Not to mention they'd have to draft every letter he wants sent and scribe every book he wants published. That must make for miserable work.”
“I can only imagine! Thankfully I plan to drop History of Magic after this year so I won’t have to find out.”
"Now that’s something we can certainly agree on." This year, he had a double period with Binns twice a week on Mondays and Fridays; that was going to be tedious. Maybe he’d intentionally bring Gerald back to class sometime, just to liven the lecture up a little. “Poppy would like that.”
“What’d you say?”
“Nothing!” His denial was a bit too forceful. ‘Merlin’s Beard! Did you really say that—out loud?’ He hadn’t meant to let that thought slip out, but somehow, he had mumbled it within earshot of Arthur. His fellow Hufflepuff just shrugged, however, and they both returned to their respective meals.
The pair finished their final few bites before pushing the empty plates away—just in time at that. The dirty tableware and cutlery, as well as the remaining serving trays of uneaten food, floated up into the air, spinning rapidly for a moment before disapparating in a flash—returning to the kitchen to be washed by the house-elf staff. ‘Always so dramatic,’ the teen thought to himself. He momentarily admired the now clean table—its only remaining decoration being an embroidered, yellow, and black table runner, their House’s badger mascot emblazoned on either end, where the cloth draped off the far edges of the table.
Arthur stood up—the disappearance of lunch signaling that next period was drawing near. “Need a guide to class?”
“I’m good; I'll be meeting with Professor Weasley next, and I can get to the Transfiguration Courtyard on my own.”
“Good luck then. I’m heading to Arithmancy; now that’s a classroom everyone gets lost searching for their first time.” Indeed, the classroom's remote location meant that none of the third-year students ever arrived punctually on their first day.
The boy was about to say goodbye when he thought back to their earlier interaction in the Hufflepuff common room this morning. “Before you go, I’m curious—were those first-years able to catch that cat in the end?”
“Oh, what an adventure that ended up being! The main reason why I was so late to lunch myself. Someone found the cat after class—outside—and on top of the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower! No idea how the unruly animal made it all the way up there; maybe a Slytherin sneaked it up with a broom for a lark—not that I’d find that funny. Anyways, someone dared Nellie to climb up and rescue the poor animal.”
“Climb? As in—by hand!?”
“Yes! Nellie’s always been a daredevil—never one to shy away from a challenge. I don’t know how she does it; I’d be terrified.” He identified the Gryffindor girl, who, like Arthur, had arrived late, as she strolled out of the Great Hall. “This isn’t even the first tower she’s climbed at Hogwarts. Oh, you should’ve seen it! A whole crowd had gathered to watch her; it took about half an hour, but she rescued the poor animal in the end. The scariest part was when she climbed back down, holding the cat in one hand.”
“That’s incredible!” He’d definitely have to introduce himself to this illustrious thrill-seeker at some point—though, preferably from the comfort of solid ground.
“Professor Sharp wasn’t amused; he docked a few points from Gryffindor for ‘taking unnecessary risks,’ not that Nellie minded much. That stunt’s sure to be the talk of the school for the rest of the week. But at least the cat was safe—doubt that first-year will ever let it out of their sight again.”
“Hogwarts sure is an… exciting place.” The boy was thinking of furtive dueling clubs, prank-filled poltergeists, misbehaved magical creatures, and now death-defying daredevilry. ‘Bloody hell, it’s barely past noon. At this rate, last night’s dragon attack won’t even seem that unusual anymore.’
“It sure is. But you’ll get used to it. I’ll see you around, my friend. And watch out for Peeves!”
Arthur ambled off—though his pace quickly accelerated once he realized just how little time he had to spare to make it to his next class. ‘Hope I didn’t make him late.' Though on the subject of tardiness, 'I probably shouldn’t keep the professor waiting either.’
He retrieved his Field Guide and set its destination to Professor Weasley's classroom, letting the Charmed Compass do its job of guiding the way. This time, he steered clear of casting Revelio throughout the journey. ‘No need for an encore of this morning.’
The boy pushed his way through the door leading into the Transfiguration classroom, catching a few words out of Professor Weasley as she sat at her desk conversing with a wizened house-elf wearing quilted rags. “I was thinking the same thing, Deek. Perhaps you can help—”
The new fifth year did not have his first Transfiguration lesson until tomorrow morning, but the professor had asked to meet in her classroom after lunch to discuss additional assignments and a trip to Hogsmeade. ‘One of those sounds more enjoyable than the other.’
Seeing the student enter and walk down the steps into the center well of the classroom, the house-elf pardoned himself from the conversation. “Oh, ah—excuse Deek.” With a snap of his fingers, the elf—evidently named Deek—twisted up into a blurry ball of color that collapsed to a single point in space, disapparating himself to Merlin only knows where within the castle.
“Ah! There you are.” Professor Weasley rose from her chair and made to greet her new student where he stood. "I trust your first classes went well?”
“They did, Professor.”
“I heard as much from Professor Hecat and Ronen. Professor Binns, on the other hand, did not even know who you were when I mentioned your name. Though I wouldn’t take it personally, I’m afraid his memory is dreadful when it comes to the student body. An odd idiosyncrasy, I must admit, for a history professor.” The Deputy Headmistress rolled her eyes while muttering, “Honestly, the man can name every Minister for Magic and Supreme Mugwump in chronological order but can’t tell Garreth from Gerome. One can only wonder how that's possible..."
After trailing off for a moment, she refocused the conversation on her attendant student. “But regardless, it seems Professor Fig taught you quite a bit before you arrived. I’d wager there’s a good deal more to your travels here than what you’ve told me—isn’t there?”
‘Dragon attack, Gringotts, Ranrok, Ancient Magic, the list goes on and on, professor.' Fig had certainly tasked him with keeping a lot to himself today. Professor Weasley had some knowledge about the dragon attack but seemed to be unaware of the specific details. Therefore, it was time for the boy to begin deflecting. He needed to improve that particular skill now if he planned on keeping his promise of secrecy to his mentor. “Have you and Professor Fig not discussed my training?”
“He continues to be reticent about the details, mentioning only a few spells—Revelio was it? And Lumos?”
“That’s correct, Professor.”
“I see. Like trying to get a sonnet from a Streeler…” He could hear the exasperation in her voice. “Regardless, you must continue to build upon what you have learned. In that regard, I’ve asked your professors to help hasten your progress with some extra assignments.”
“Professor Ronen did mention something about that.” He recalled their earlier, after-class conversation on the matter, though he did not know precisely what these assignments would entail just yet.
“In fact, Professor Ronen will meet you outside momentarily to assign your first one.” At least the boy could look forward to some answers soon. With that matter settled, Professor Weasley switched to discussing the other topic on their docket for today. “Now, regarding the trip to Hogsmeade I mentioned earlier. We’ve arranged to replace the supplies lost on your way here—including seeds, potion recipes, and spellcrafts. You may also stop by Gladrags and speak to its proprietor, Augustus Hill, if you require new clothing. Should I even ask what has become of the school robes you were wearing this morning?”
“They’re um—currently soaking in a bathroom sink.” He scratched the back of his head, trying to find the words to explain the situation. It had not been a favorable couple of days for his material possessions. The dragon had destroyed every bit of luggage he’d brought to Hogwarts. He lost all his money, textbooks, and spare clothes in the attack, along with the necessary class materials Professor Fig had assisted him in buying for his upcoming year at Hogwarts. Now all the boy possessed was a loaner wand, the few miscellaneous school supplies Weasley and Fig had gathered for him this morning, and the clothes he was wearing. ‘Except now I’ve gone and lost the robes too.’
Professor Weasley blinked. Why wasn’t she surprised? “Really, a bathroom sink?” After all the rumors she’d heard surrounding her new charge, this irregularity didn’t even rank among her top five questions for the lad, but she still felt obligated to ask.
“The one outside Professor Fig’s classroom in the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower," he clarified. "Had a little altercation with Peeves earlier in the Pungent Passageway—didn’t end well for my robes.”
Professor Weasley briefly pinched the bridge of her nose—of course it was Peeves. “So be it. I shall summon a house-elf later to retrieve and clean them. Expect to find your robes when you return to the dorms later tonight.” Merlin help her. She could already sense that this boy was going to be a challenge. Not in the same way Garreth or Mr. Sallow were; he did not strike her as the type to intentionally seek out trouble. But rather, trouble seemed to have a knack for seeking him out—which might honestly be more concerning.
“Thank you, Professor. And I will be purchasing a new wand in Hogsmeade as well, correct?”
“Yes, Mr. Ollivander will connect you with the perfect wand. You’ve managed your classes well with a borrowed wand. But you’ll find the magic you cast with your own wand to be far superior.”
‘So that’s what Poppy had meant.' The Hufflepuff girl had been impressed earlier when she learned his Summoner’s Court win had been with a loaned wand. Now he really needed to know if his own wand would make that big a difference. “I’m eager to get to Hogsmeade.”
“Very well. I’d like you to make your first visit to the village with a classmate. Help you get your bearings. Perhaps Sebastian Sallow or Natsai Onai? I’m told you were spending time with them in class.”
He thought it over for a moment, trying to decide between the two options the professor had presented him. He liked Natty and Sebastian and was excited to spend more time around them in the future, 'but…' there was a third option in his mind as well. Someone who he'd just been thinking about, in fact; a person whom he was far more interested in spending time with than either Natty or Sebastian just now.
“Actually—would it be alright if I went with Poppy? Poppy Sweeting.”
Notes:
Fun fact: Puffskeins like to be tossed about but nowhere in the canon is it established how hard they can be thrown. Naturally I chose to take it to the extreme; the mental image of animal-loving Poppy hurling Gerald at the wall like a baseball was too funny to pass up on. Besides, this is supposed to be a magical world, right? What fun is it if the beasts aren't as peculiar and expectation-defying as Poppy herself?
And with that out of the way, I can finally say phew! This one took a while. I was originally aiming for 4000 to 5000-word chapters and to get them out every week or so, but chapter 2 just kept growing longer and longer as I wrote it—ending up at over 12,000 words! Couldn't really find a good place to cut it sooner. The final two scenes could maybe have been pushed into the start of chapter 3, but lunch and meeting with Professor Weasley were both fairly short scenes. And getting them out of the way here tees us up to dive directly into Hogsmeade at the start of next chapter. So, overall, I think I'm pretty happy with where this one ended. We got a little bit of humor, some awkwardness, some cute scenes together as the main pairing is established. Plus I like how this chapter introduced some hints into Poppy's past while also providing reasons for the two of them to spend more time together in the future. There are going to be a lot of chapters in this story that take place in between the canon events of Poppy's side quests.
And turning Persephone into a rescue animal might not be a choice everyone will like but I wanted her backstory to be rooted in poaching to mirror Poppy's. Speaking of which, the hardest part of writing this chapter was Poppy's angry scene. I spent a while going back and forth on that one, trying to make it work while still fitting her personality. I want to find each character's "voice" so let me know if you think I'm doing them justice or how I could improve the dialogue so they don't feel out of character. Any constructive feedback is appreciated!
Expect Chapter 3 to be up in a few weeks. It's going to be another long one, but hopefully I can get it out relatively quickly. And Happy New Years everyone!
Chapter 3: Enjoying the View
Summary:
The journey to Hogsmeade takes longer than expected with many unforeseen twists and turns abound.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“I think that’s a fine idea. Miss Sweeting is a bright young witch and quite adept at staying out of trouble. She’ll keep you well clear of any of Victor Rookwood’s undesirables en route.”
Professor Weasley had been surprised at first, not expecting him to name Poppy Sweeting of all students, but was quick to agree with his choice after thinking the proposal over. She had assured the boy that, while he was busy completing his first assignment, she would go about making the necessary arrangements for him to visit Hogsmeade with his fellow Hufflepuff.
‘It had almost been too easy,’ chuckled the new fifth-year as he made his way back to North Hall. He’d been imagining ways he might be able to spend more time with Poppy this week only for Professor Weasley to casually offer up the perfect opportunity—practically on a silver platter.
Perhaps his suggestion of Poppy over Natty or Sebastian had been a tad underhanded, but the professor's insistence that he travel to Hogsmeade with a classmate obligated him to pick someone. What was the harm in choosing the adorable Hufflepuff girl from History of Magic class? The boy saw no problem in his decision, especially after the duo had spent such a delightful lunch period together. He only hoped his fellow housemate wouldn't mind accompanying him. ‘Although… what if this is only a chore for her?’
That thought was a little unnerving for the teen—his prior confidence and excitement beginning to fade away under the weight of newfound apprehension and self-doubt. Poppy had been quite welcoming at lunch, but… was he overstaying his welcome? Would she guide him to Hogsmeade out of obligation, even if she personally lacked any interest in making the trip? That unfortunate possibility was one he couldn’t rule out. As much as he’d appreciate the Hufflepuff’s company, he didn’t want to drag her away from the castle if she already had other afternoon plans.
‘This isn’t hard. Just ask her when you see her.’ Yes, that’s what he’d do. Despite Professor Weasley’s suggestion, he was certain he could make this trip alone. If Poppy was unenthused by the plan, it wasn’t necessary for her to tag along. All he needed to do was double-check once he reached her—then he’d have an answer.
The boy was currently making his way toward the Bell Tower Courtyard. His housemate, now out of class, would be waiting for him by the doorway—the same exit the pair had passed under previously with Gerald in tow just a few hours prior. The new fifth-year smiled at that memory. Peeves had certainly been a nuisance this morning, but the ensuing side adventure had worked out for the best—it did introduce him to Poppy after all. And Professor Weasley had even promised the return of his fully washed robes later this evening. ‘Overall, the day has been going well so far,’ he observed, mentally noting to himself that he ought to ask around for any cleaning spells worth memorizing. The teen believed it unlikely he’d ever pass through the Pungent Passageway again, but—just in case—he’d rather come prepared next time. ‘Besides, house-elves won’t always be around to do my dirty laundry, right? Perhaps Professor Ronen can share an incantation or two during our next assignment together.’
On that subject, the boy’s supplemental training this afternoon had also gone exceptionally well. After spending an hour scurrying about the castle practicing Accio, followed by a second hour of mastering Reparo under his teacher's tutelage, the Hufflepuff had successfully completed his first additional assignment of the school year. “Remember to be deliberate in your enunciation and movements,” Professor Ronen had instructed as his protégé took turns reconstructing a stone statue in the Transfiguration Courtyard, which the older man would then blast back into bits.
The repetition of wand movements had grown a touch tedious after a while, but his fun-loving Charms professor made a game out of their training exercise to keep it entertaining. His mentor would destroy the statue with a unique incantation each time, giving the boy a glimpse at some of the more advanced spells he could look forward to mastering this year. In one demonstration, Ronen fired off a magical slash that had sheared hardened stone like a hot knife cutting through butter. In another instance, his Charms professor launched a cacophonous shockwave that had crashed over the statue and ripped its limbs asunder. And for his grand finale, the man sent forth an explosive salvo whose blast had shattered the sculpture into a thousand tiny fragments, to the awe of all onlookers.
‘Professor Ronen is quite an accomplished wizard.’ The man’s masterful display of magic had dazzled the new fifth-year, as well as any other passerby in the courtyard. But on top of that, his unique style of teaching provided the inexperienced spellcaster with an opportunity to practice Reparo on several different types of breakages—greatly improving his aptitude with the spell over a relatively short timeframe. With the ever-useful Mending Charm added to the boy’s repertoire, he felt as if he might just be looking forward to his next assignment, hoping they would all be so exciting. Yes, today had indeed been going very well for the Hufflepuff. In fact, he was growing slightly concerned that it was going almost too well… ‘No doubt something bad will happen eventually.’
With his unfortunate luck, the cosmic scales always found a way to rebalance themselves sooner or later. After spending a wonderful summer discovering his newfound aptitude for magic and learning of his admittance to Hogwarts, the universe had rewarded him with a dragon attack—along with every other danger that attempted to kill him the previous night. ‘And now you’ve gone and hit it off with a girl.’ He couldn’t even begin to imagine how nasty the next mishap would need to be to balance out this newest development in his life. Destiny certainly could be fickle at times, and his fate tended to vacillate between extreme highs and lows. But he placed those uneasy thoughts off to the side for now—fully committing himself to just being a normal student making the most of his first day at Hogwarts.
The boy rounded a corner leading into a narrow corridor and caught sight of one of the school’s decorative suits of enchanted armor lying in tattered pieces on the ground. Its helm, pauldrons, cuirass, gauntlets, greaves, and other miscellaneous armor fragments were all scattered about in a jumbled mess—broken and dented as though they had been violently bashed in. As if that wasn’t odd enough, the new student could just make out a strained noise—almost like that of a song—coming from the helm’s askew mouthguard. The animated plate mail was… humming a tune to itself? ‘Well, at least he’s keeping himself in high spirits,’ chuckled the boy, taking out his wand. “Let me fix you up, friend.”
Did the enchanted suits of armor standing at attention around the castle even feel pain—or any emotion at all for that matter? Did the one in front of him care that it had been left mangled and broken? He couldn’t even begin to venture a guess, but at the very least the young wizard could do everyone a small service by cleaning up the wreckage. With deliberate movement and clear enunciation, he began swishing his wand overhead.
“Reparo.”
The ancient armor's various components rose up, returning to the pedestal upon which the relic of a bygone era was meant to stand. The plate mail pieces slotted back into place—made whole once again as every dent and scuff mark was buffed out—a showcase of the spell’s usefulness. The final few metallic fragments swirled about the figure until they too found their proper home, and with a dramatic final flourish, the boy completed his wand movement just as a heavy mace sailed lazily through the air, coming to rest in the armor’s newly restored hands.
Fully repaired, the elated knight let out a cheerful “Huzzah!” raising a celebratory fist into the air. Then, having regained its proper functionality, it began humming even louder to itself. In response, the other suit of plate mail—still standing at attention aside its ecstatic twin—sunk its helm into one of its gauntlets, letting out an exasperated sigh while rubbing at seemingly non-existent temples.
‘Perhaps they do feel some emotion?’ Unfortunately, the distracted Hufflepuff didn’t have time to contemplate that theory or its many implications just now—a cute girl was waiting on him after all! He passed by the two animated antiquities in a rush, satisfied he’d done his part to help. Having nearly arrived at his destination, he continued down the corridor and turned left through a set of doors at the end of the passageway. Entering North Hall, he found exactly who he was looking for and hurried over in her direction.
The girl smiled at his approach. “Back so soon?”
“Poppy—I hope this isn’t too much of a bother for you?”
“Oh, it’s no trouble. Professor Weasley's invitation actually came at the perfect time—I have a few errands to run in Hogsmeade myself.”
‘That’s good to hear.’ He mentally breathed a sigh of relief upon learning this excursion was a benefit to her as well. “Brilliant—I feel better knowing we’re both getting something out of this trip. At least you aren’t just my glorified babysitter for the afternoon.”
Poppy laughed at the suggestion, quipping back, “Perhaps I still am. Professor Weasley might also have mentioned that someone needs to keep you out of harm’s way.”
“Is that so?” The boy grinned. “Well, I feel safer already with you watching my back.”
“I’ll try my best. Though, do be careful not to run across any further dragons.” She shot him a knowing look.
“No promises.” He tried returning a confident smirk in response to her tongue-in-cheek joke, but underneath, his emotions were turbulent and on edge. Hearing that rumor be repeated once more was troubling—it was hounding him positively everywhere. ‘First Weasley, then Sebastian, now even Poppy. Seems the story is becoming common knowledge.’ By dinnertime, everyone at Hogwarts would no doubt have heard about the attack, assuming they haven't already.
Arriving late to the Sorting Ceremony—as a brand-new fifth-year, no less—had the whole school abuzz with questions. Once word broke this morning that Hogwarts’s enigmatic new student had been late because of a freak encounter with a wild dragon… well, the rumors were circulating like wildfire. He’d already caught a few of his classmates staring at him—whispering and pointing in his direction while working on his assignment earlier.
The boy groaned inwardly. He was sure to face many questions in the coming days and already knew he’d have no satisfactory answers for them—not as long as Fig had him withholding the truth of last night’s events. At least Poppy was doing him the courtesy of not pressing the issue. Still, it would be better if he had a story prepared to deal with the rumors—for when someone like his inquisitive new Slytherin friend started prying. But that would require him to find out exactly how much the student body already knew. ‘Only one way to do that,’ he supposed. At least he felt comfortable broaching the topic with Poppy. Despite knowing her for less than a day, he already felt as if he could trust her. Something about her demeanor gave him that sense. So, he pressed ahead and asked, “What, uh—what exactly have you heard about the attack?”
“Some Ravenclaws were discussing it in my last class. Sounds like you, Professor Fig, and a ministry official flew straight into a roaming dragon outside of London?” Poppy’s eyes lit up with genuine concern; she was studying his reaction, hoping he would just laugh it off as a silly rumor. However, no denial emerged. Instead, his expression only darkened, which prompted the girl to cautiously whisper the main question that had been gnawing at her. “Did… did someone really die?”
The boy’s sharp intake of breath at the inquiry was short-lived but noticeable—try as he might, he couldn’t entirely suppress his tense reaction. With some strain in his voice, he answered, “I’m afraid so. Mr. Osric—it was… terrifyingly quick.”
“I can imagine. I’m sorry you had to see that.” Poppy was surprised to learn that the rumors were all true. Earlier, he’d mentioned nothing about narrowly surviving a dragon ambush. In fact, the boy had given her zero indication that anything was even amiss—acting so jovial in the beast pens during lunch. It was possible he was trying to forget the attack, not that she would hold it against him if that were the case. Unsure if he was open to talking about it further, she broached the subject delicately. “Do you mind if I ask how it happened?”
The boy sighed. “Seems you’ve already heard the majority of it.” There’d been something following them in the clouds. “The dragon bit off the entire back half of our carriage midflight—in an instant, all of it was just… gone.” That piercing screech, its razor-sharp teeth, and those furious red eyes… “We only survived because we were sitting in the front half of the cabin.” Can’t say the same for poor Mr. Osric. “Then the next thing I knew, we were falling through the air until… Fig got us both out of there. I only found out this morning that the stagecoach driver apparated away in time.” Thank Merlin for that, at least.
“Helga’s Heart…” The girl looked up at him with sympathetic concern. “I don’t even know what to say. I suppose I’m just glad you and Fig made it out safely.”
If not for the seriousness of the whole ordeal, the irony in her statement might have made him laugh. The two of them hadn’t made it out safely at all—the hour following the dragon attack having been filled with several more near-death experiences. ‘But Poppy doesn’t need to know about that.’ Without giving anything anyway, the boy silently nodded in appreciation at his companion’s words, bringing her to the next obvious question.
“Are you handling everything alright?”
“As well as could be expected, I suppose.”
“If you ever want someone to talk to…” Her eyes softened, giving him a reassuring look—implicitly letting him know she was there to help.
“Not now, but—thank you, Poppy.”
The girl stepped back, glad to see she had at least gotten through to him in some small way. But as she thought over the story, her mouth twisted in perplexed confusion. “It does seem strange though, doesn’t it? A Hebridean Black attacking a carriage—over London and in broad daylight, no less?” Poppy shook her head. “It’s so odd. None of that tracks with their usual migratory patterns. And you couldn’t have been anywhere near a Hebridean hunting ground… What in Merlin’s name was a dragon even doing in that area?”
“Who knows?” responded the boy cryptically. He had a working hypothesis but wasn’t inclined to share it yet. Fig preferred the secrecy and—though Poppy seemed trustworthy—he’d already shared enough for one day, desiring only to move on at this point. “Yesterday was a bit of a blur, to be honest; I just want to put the experience behind me for now, if that’s alright?”
“Of course, sorry. That was callous of me.” Sometimes the Hufflepuff’s knowledge of beasts got ahead of her better judgment. There was no need to scrutinize the details of the attack while her housemate was still recovering from the shock of it. Right now, the moment called for empathy, not examination. “If there is anything I can do to help, just let me know.”
“There is one thing, actually—that you can help with.” Poppy stared up at him expectantly only to be met with an impish smile. “I was just thinking a relaxing trip to Hogsmeade sounds perfect right about now—if you’d care to accompany me?”
“That was the plan.” The girl made a face at the redundant request. He was trying to be funny, but in the most eye-rolling way possible. Still, she was relieved to see him returning to his usual cheerful demeanor. Even if it was partly an act, it was still better than spending the rest of the day wallowing in depressing thoughts. Thus, for his sake, Poppy chose to stay positive and upbeat. “Hogsmeade is a lovely little village—you’ll enjoy it there.”
“I’m sure I will, and… I’m glad we’re going together.” He awkwardly smiled at his fellow Hufflepuff, stiffly rubbing at the back of his neck. “Sorry in advance if I don’t make for as interesting company as Gerald or Persephone.”
"I think you'll be fine for one afternoon—provided you refrain from cracking any more terrible jokes."
“Whatever could you mean by that? My humor is top-notch; you’ll see.”
“Uh-huh.” He was not half as funny as he imagined, but Poppy did feel relieved after their playful exchange of banter. He’d inadvertently helped to settle a doubt that had been creeping over her since she’d first received Weasley’s owl. For the life of her, Poppy couldn’t figure out why the Deputy Headmistress hadn’t selected Natty—the obvious choice in the Hufflepuff’s mind—to accompany him to Hogsmeade instead. Perhaps the Gryffindor was busy this afternoon? But even if that were the case, surely there had been a more appropriate backup choice than the introverted girl famous for having no friends?
While she didn’t mind making the trip, Poppy had been concerned the boy would think Professor Weasley only stuck him with the animal-loving recluse so as to force her to socialize. However, his genuine joy at their pairing served to quell that lingering worry. Feeling relieved that the walkover wasn’t about to become an awkward formality, Poppy kept the dialogue going, hoping to keep the trip lighthearted and enjoyable, especially after their prior conversation. “Just wait until you visit Honeydukes! No trip to Hogsmeade would be complete without it. Barrels of candy as far as the eye can see; it’s easily one of my favorite shops to visit—along with Brood and Peck.”
“I’m eager to get there.”
“Shall we then?” The girl motioned towards the door.
“Yes, although—” Something behind the two of them caught his attention. “Give me one moment.”
The boy walked up to an odd-looking adornment Poppy had been standing near—it was a suit of armor, but one that was much smaller than the plate mail he’d repaired in the corridor a moment ago. Most intriguingly, an enormous club protruded from the top of this armor, completely flattening the helm under its weight. The curio made for such a strange-looking display—one that surely had a story to tell. The new fifth-year had a good feeling as he reached for his wand.
Looking around to ensure Peeves wasn’t about to prank him again, the boy spoke the necessary incantation, motioning with his wand as Fig had taught him, “Revelio.”
The Field Guide began to hum as a new entry appeared. After opening to the correct page and quickly skimming it, the boy discovered that Sir Scagglethorpe the Heedless had very unwisely challenged a mountain troll to a game of musical chairs once. Evidently, it had not ended well for the wizard. ‘Head caved in by a troll; horrible way to go,’ tsked the boy.
In just the past day, the fledgling wizard had been educated in a number of awful ways one could die in the magical world—some lessons being more up close and personal than others. But, no… he wasn’t going to fixate on any of that this afternoon. He and Poppy were about to spend the next couple of hours together, and he was determined to make it a satisfying trip for both of them. The boy just wanted to go back to the way things had been at lunch: spending a lovely afternoon in the company of his charming housemate. Closing his magical tome and turning back around, he noticed that the girl in question had been silently observing his actions—watching quizzically the whole time.
“Never seen anyone cast Revelio on a suit of armor before,” she pondered aloud.
The new fifth-year chuckled. ‘And Poppy’s worried she’s the peculiar one.’ It was only his first day, and already he was setting records in the ‘strangest behavior’ category for a student at Hogwarts. The boy could only imagine how odd he’d come across earlier while scurrying about the castle, repeatedly casting Accio as part of Ronen’s assignment. At this rate, if he didn’t start ingratiating himself with the other students soon, he was at risk of being branded the school’s oddball. Hard to fault Poppy’s curiosity when his actions were always so bizarre. “I suppose you’re wondering what that was all about?”
“If you wouldn’t mind sharing.” She was staring at the curious book in his hands.
“This is a Field Guide the school lent me,” he divulged, holding up the notebook for Poppy to give a cursory examination. “It’s meant to help with my studies—the guide carries a sort of enchantment on it that records important details on any historical artifacts I interact with.”
“That’s useful. Wish I had one.” The girl was still inspecting the tome with an appraising eye when a new thought occurred to her. “Does it record information on beasts as well?”
“Good question!” He was surprised he hadn’t considered checking that until just now. “Honestly, I have no idea. Care to take a look with me?” He invited her to stand beside him, and together they pulled back the cover of the tome. As the two flipped through its pages, they scanned the meager collection of entries he’d built up over the course of a single morning for any mentions of beasts.
Until now, the boy had been pleased with his progress. But, as they stood there leafing through the entire book, his eyes were opened to how much of it still remained blank. ‘Merlin’s Beard, there could easily be a thousand entries left to find.’ He started to become lost in thought while calculating exactly how many discoveries would need to be made each day just to complete the full guide before exams. Concerningly, even the lowest estimates still struck him as an immense undertaking. ‘This is certainly going to be a busy year. As if I didn’t already know that…’
In his distraction, the boy had stopped skimming entries for any mentions of beasts. Thankfully, Poppy was more attentive. “Right there,” she indicated, pointing out a section he’d very nearly passed over.
The page was mostly blank, but it did contain three short entries: one for Puffskeins, one for Kneazles, and one for Diricawls. It was perplexing—how hadn’t he noticed their appearance before? The Field Guide would hum with each new entry. Sure, he’d been a tad preoccupied in the Pungent Passageway when Gerald literally collided with him midfall—no surprise the recording of the Puffskein entry had gone unnoticed. But was he truly so distracted in the beast pens that he hadn’t felt the tome’s buzzing sensation as Poppy introduced him to Kneazles and Diricawls for the first time?
“Huh—how about that?” Clearing his throat, he read off an entry of particular significance after today’s events. “Puffskeins are round and fluffy beasts, soft enough to cuddle but tough enough to be thrown about—Oh sure, now it tells me!” The entry continued with an additional warning about their tongues, which he quietly skimmed. It was all right there—everything he wished he’d known earlier. “If only I’d taken time to read this sooner, I might have been more prepared for Gerald. Although I suppose the guide only recorded this entry after Gerald had his way with me.” He shuddered dramatically. “Hopefully the other beasts are less harrowing to study.”
Poppy giggled at his misplaced expectations, “You really think a Puffskein is the worst creature the magical world can throw at you?” The boy’s naivete was simply too adorable sometimes. As his designated beasts tutor, she enlightened him. “A Niffler would rob you blind, a Fwooper could drive you insane with one song, and a Billywig sting might leave you aimlessly floating through the air for hours. Not to mention Graphorns—which are so large and ferocious that even dragons have been known to avoid them.” Poppy watched while his face took on an ever-increasing grimace as she listed off just some of the disconcerting threats he’d have to contend with over the course of completing his Field Guide. “Honestly, if you want to finish your beast collection without ending up in St. Mungo’s, you should probably stick close to me.”
“I, uh… will be sure to do that.” The boy let out a relieved laugh, suddenly feeling much better about the prospect of completing his Field Guide. He didn’t find Poppy’s proposal objectionable in the slightest—in fact, he quite welcomed the idea. ‘Today has been going exceptionally well,’ he mused, revising his previous feelings on the current day even further upwards. That internal celebration had instantly put him in a more jovial mood as he joked, “I’m counting on you to protect me from any Graphorns we run across on the way to Hogsmeade.”
“Well, just remember, you’ll never outrun a charging Graphorn. If we do stumble across one, your best bet is to bow low and beg for mercy while you can.” Poppy grinned mischievously, knowing full well there were exactly zero Graphorn dens within fifty miles of Hogwarts, but it was fun to tease him regardless.
“Yes, professor.” He bowed modestly. “Like so?”
“You call that a bow? Hippogriffs would be swatting at you for showing so little respect.” She sassed his technique, mocking him, but all in good humor. “Forget everything I said. If you see a Graphorn, just kneel instead—perhaps it will take pity on you.” Poppy stared at him, straight-faced and serious for a moment. Then, all at once, the pair of Hufflepuffs burst into mutual laughter at the ridiculousness of their conversation.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” snickered the boy as he closed his Field Guide, stowing it away. He made for the exit, pushing through the large wooden doors and holding them open for his travel companion. The pair wandered out into the courtyard, both wearing easy smiles as their ongoing laughter began to dwindle—a cozy quiet slowly settling over them as they started down the path to Hogsmeade together.
The afternoon sun was still fairly bright, and the two blinked as their eyes adjusted. Now outside, the Hufflepuffs surveyed only a low level of activity in the courtyard—the area feeling relatively empty compared to lunchtime. Many students, particularly the lowerclassmen, were still in school at this hour. ‘I bet Fig is lecturing a group of first-years at this exact moment, in fact.’ The professor was undoubtedly introducing a class of eleven-year-olds to Magical Theory, a subject the boy had personally studied under his mentor’s tutelage over the summer—cramming an entire year's worth of lessons into just a few weeks. ‘At least the first-year students are free to study at a more leisurely pace.’
The sound of a blown whistle interrupted his internal musings. Looking upwards, the new fifth-year observed a clamorous commotion overhead—juxtaposing the relative inactivity taking place at ground level. High up above them, distant specks zoomed around as a group of third- or maybe fourth-year students enjoyed their first Flying class of the year under Madam Kogawa’s watchful eye. The boy wouldn’t get to experience the class for himself until tomorrow afternoon, but he was very excitedly looking forward to it.
He’d been daydreaming about flying on broomstick ever since Professor Fig had probed his interest in enrolling. Unlike most other subjects, Flying wasn’t mandatory for fifth-years, allowing him to have a say in the matter, just as he’d gotten to choose both his two electives. ‘Not that Flying had been much of a choice.’ As if he’d ever turn down the opportunity to race through the air—soaring high above the clouds—with the wind whipping around him.
The prospective future flyer watched with engrossed fascination as students bobbed and weaved through the floating obstacle course Professor Kogawa had prepared for class. Peak aerial prowess was on display this afternoon, with some of the more gifted broomstick riders leaving the uninitiated youth awestruck by their technique. It was near flawless; they darted between hurdles and sailed through ring after ring with virtually no wasted exertion. Aspirationally, the Hufflepuff dreamt of one day matching their impressive displays of agility—once he purchased his own broom, of course. But even if he never reached their same level of skill, he was still enamored with the idea of soon joining them, up there in the sky.
The boy’s head was in the clouds as he fantasized away. It was Poppy who inevitably brought him back down to Earth, breaking his reverie—as well as the amiable silence that had been lingering between them—as she spoke up again. “About what you mentioned earlier…”
“Hmm?”
“I just—wanted you to know that I too am glad we’re going to Hogsmeade together.”
That admission, reciprocating his own from earlier, certainly captured the daydreamer’s full attention—all his focus immediately snapping back to his travel partner, grounding him in the present moment. He felt elated—blurting out in surprise, “Really?”
“Sure.” She continued looking ahead, but he noticed a slight smile cross her face—perhaps even a blush if he was being especially optimistic. “I normally make the trip to Hogsmeade alone. It’s refreshing to have company for a change.”
“Visit the village often, do you?” He wouldn’t be opposed to turning this little excursion of theirs into a regular occurrence if she made the trek to Hogsmeade frequently.
“Semi-regularly, I suppose. There are a few shops I try to visit every week or two. Plus, my gran sends me homemade beast feed through the post—she’s always inventing new flavors as part of her research.”
“That’s very kind of her.” He nodded approvingly, unsurprised to learn Poppy had family who made a living working closely with magical creatures. “I’m sure the beasts love it too.”
“Usually…” The girl chuckled as a memory from early this year came flashing back to her. “Although, Gerald certainly was not a fan of the spiced feed Gran sent back last Christmas. Cinnamon and cloves do not agree with Puffskein taste buds, it would seem—and believe me, they have a lot of taste buds.”
‘Well, that’s not a surprise given they have forty-six inches of tongue to spare.’ He thought, recalling the practical demonstration Gerald had given him earlier. Tapping his chin, the still smarting youth expressed his veiled interest in this new fact about Puffskein biology and how it could be used to bring about his revenge. “Cinnamon and cloves, huh? Good to know.”
Poppy fixed him with a suspicious side eye as they ambled onward. “Don’t even think about it, mister. I won’t hesitate to hex you.”
The boy threw up his hands innocently, pretending the idea hadn’t even crossed his mind. “I would never do anything of the sort…”
As far as denials go, it had almost been convincing—the offended tone of voice, the innocuous body language, his overall disposition—he’d done a fairly passable job of appearing honest. At least until he decided to be cheeky about it. “Well—probably not. Though you have to admit, it would certainly teach the ungrateful prat a well-earned lesson.”
The girl spun, walking in front of him now but doing so backwards so she could fix him with a threatening stare while they continued down the path. She pointed at both of her eyes and then both of his—the universal sign for intimidation. “I. Will. Hex. You.”
‘For one so short, she sure can be intimidating when she wants to be.’ Still holding up his hands—in modest surrender now—he capitulated to her demands. “Alright, alright. Message received. I’ll stay far away from the spice rack.”
“Good.” Poppy apparently found that answer satisfactory enough—turning back around and dropping her menacing act.
‘It had all been an act… right?’ The girl’s diminutive stature and adorable rounded face made it easy to think she was harmless. However, the new fifth-year harbored a sneaking suspicion she wasn’t quite as delicate as appearances would suggest. After all, he, of all people, knew it was foolish to underestimate a Hufflepuff. ‘Wouldn’t want to repeat Sebastian’s mistake, would I?’ In their earlier duel, the Slytherin boy had forgotten that badgers are dangerous when cornered, but this Hufflepuff knew better. He surmised it was safer to stay on Poppy’s good side—grand revenge-seeking plots against Gerald would just have to be put on hold for the time being.
As the two crested a hill, Poppy held up a hand to stop him. “Oh, hold up a moment.” The girl had paused at a spot in the trail where the cobblestone fence broke open—leading into a small clearing. “See those?” She pointed in the direction of a group of tiny, glowing, winged insects congregating over a nearby bush.
“Fireflies?”
“Close, but no.” The animal savant corrected. “They’re lacewing flies.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Pretty much everything,” answered Poppy with a shrug, not taking her eyes off the bugs.
He raised an eyebrow at that. “They don’t look all that different to me.”
“Merlin, I’ve got my work cut out for me this year, don’t I?” The sarcasm in her voice was palpable. And when her gaze turned to meet his self-satisfied grin, she further rolled her eyes.
He goaded her exasperated reaction to his obliviousness with a joke. “You keep forgetting I’m basically just an oversized first-year. I did warn you that this trip is, in part, glorified babysitting duty. It’s not too late to head back to Hogwarts—although, I may get lost and starve to death if you so cruelly abandon me like that.”
The dramatic way he delivered that last line—Poppy could only sigh. The overly pleased-with-himself fifth-year was still not near as comical as he believed himself to be. “Didn’t I tell you to leave the atrocious humor back at the castle?”
“I did. That’s why I’m utilizing only my highest-caliber material right now—exclusively for you.” His grin still wasn’t going anywhere. “Trust me, the jokes could be much more awful than this.”
“Somehow, I believe you.” She waved him off, not wanting to imagine how much worse it could get.
“Now, since I’m apparently steeped in ignorance, would you be so kind as to educate me on the differences between Lacewing flies and their non-magical relatives, my esteemed professor?”
At least he had the decency to ask for a lesson. The amateur lecturer took a deep breath. “For starters, their lifecycles are completely unrelated. Lacewing flies live ten times longer and are born with an innate ability to fly; they don’t undergo any sort of metamorphosis as they age.”
“Oh—that is quite different,” he acknowledged. As usual, the Hufflepuff girl was downright encyclopedic in the way she could recite details from memory as if reading from a textbook.
“Also, their luminescence works entirely differently from that of the non-magical firefly.” Poppy pointed in the direction of a particularly bright insect hovering overhead. “See that one? It’s the middle of the day, and yet you can still see the glow against the clear blue sky. A normal firefly gives off less light than a candle; Lacewing flies, on the other hand, can glow brighter than an oil lantern.”
“How does that work?” The boy inquired curiously.
“My gran’s research found it to be a means of dissipating excess heat. It all has to do with their wings.”
“What do you mean?”
“The intricate structure of their wings allows them to channel magic, similar to how a wand core works. But they’re small creatures, so the magical buildup would normally overheat them. Or it would if they didn’t release the surplus as light. They’re quite literally flying Lumos spells.”
The boy watched the bright little insects flutter about, wondering how a person even thinks to study such small and seemingly insignificant creatures in a world where dragons exist. All the more surprising that it would actually yield meaningful results. But even the most unassuming of beasts still had something to offer the world; there was a lesson in that. “Your Gran’s research sounds quite fascinating. I take it most wizards don’t actually know why they glow so brightly?”
“It’s doubtful. All most wizards bother to learn of lacewing flies is that they’re a terribly useful potion reagent when properly stewed. It always comes back to either potions or clothing—never anything more meaningful.”
“You don’t approve?” He had detected a hint of bitterness in her tone.
“I just wish people would appreciate magical creatures for more than their practical applications. I realize it’s silly—lacewing flies are only bugs, but… they have so much to offer beyond their potion-making potential. Plus, they really are quite pretty to observe out in the open.” Her gaze lingered on the luminous insects, dancing freely under the shadows cast by the bordering forest.
That gave the boy an idea. “Well, we’ve still got time.” He sat down on an empty bench—of which there were a few scattered throughout the clearing—choosing one that was positioned directly between two bushes full of lacewing flies. Then he patted the empty spot adjacent to him in invitation. “Come, sit.”
“I didn’t intend to sidetrack us.” Poppy was looking back down the road; they still had a fair way to go before they reached Hogsmeade. “I only meant for you to take a moment and add them to your guide’s collection—help you prepare for Potions class.”
The boy realized he’d once again failed to notice the slight hum of the Field Guide as a new entry was recorded. Even so, he didn’t bother to read it yet. Nor did he budge from his spot on the bench. Rather, he just smiled up at Poppy. “You’re helping me prepare for Potions class as well now? How shall I ever pay you back for all these study sessions?”
“I only want to be helpful. Trust me, once you meet Professor Sharp, you’ll understand. He has high expectations. Not every teacher at Hogwarts is as cheerful—or as forgiving of mistakes—as Professor Ronen.”
“Be that as it may.” He patted the bench again, undeterred. “Come on, sit with me for a minute. Someone ought to appreciate the beauty of these humble Lacewing flies. And who else is going to do it, if not us?”
Poppy shrugged and took a seat next to him on the bench. She sat there, watching the insects lazily drift through the air, unperturbed by the presence of the two Hufflepuffs. “In the daylight, they really are quite beautiful, but you should see them at night. The way they shimmer in total darkness is breathtaking.”
“I can imagine,” whispered the boy, admiring the display being put on by the glowing creatures. “Anything else I should know about them—while we’re here?”
“They’re primarily found in open fields, unlike fireflies, which prefer to lay their eggs in damp areas such as swamps or wetlands. Also, if Professor Sharp asks, they need to be stewed for three weeks to bring out their full magical potential.” Poppy sat racking her brain for a moment, knowing there was something else she was forgetting. “Oh! And they’re an essential ingredient in brewing Polyjuice and Focus Potions.”
“I’ll be sure to remember that.”
“I think that’s about all you should need to know on Lacewing flies—for the O.W.L. at least.”
The new fifth-year, who still had yet to brew a single potion in his life—but was confident he would succeed now with Poppy backing him up—turned to face the girl in question. “You’re a wonderful help. Thank you.”
She flushed under the close proximity of his gaze, trying to remain cool as she played off his compliment and their impromptu study session. “Didn’t want you to lose us points by giving Sharp a wrong answer in class. That’s all. Hufflepuffs need all the help they can get right now—we haven’t won the House Cup in nearly a decade.”
“Then perhaps it’s time to change that.”
“Pfft, good luck with that. Maybe if Howin awarded points as liberally as the other professors, I could’ve helped out. But, to be honest, she’s rather stingy.” Poppy’s miffed expression exposed something of a deep-seated annoyance at feeling undervalued in the yearly House competition.
The boy wasn’t having it, though. “I’m confident you can still find a way to make a difference; you’re more than just an encyclopedia on magical creatures. Someday the other professors will learn to appreciate that fact.” She gave him a doubtful look, which he tried to assuage by holding up his hands. “It is your most impressive talent; I’m not denying that. But you’re cleverer than you give yourself credit for, I’d wager.” To prove his point, he pulled out his Field Guide and flipped it open, leafing through the pages until he arrived at the newly added entry under the Potions section.
“Lacewing flies.” Poppy mumbled, reading the header he’d paused at.
“Mm-hmm. 'Delicate wings used in the Focus Potion. They're commonly found in open fields.' The Guide doesn’t even mention Polyjuice Potion or how long to stew them for—seems your insight into potion making extends well beyond the O.W.L. level,” he reassured, striving to be supportive of her intellect. “I suspect that if you speak up in Professor Sharp’s class more often, you’ll be earning House Hufflepuff dozens of points in no time at all.”
“Hmm, but wouldn’t Lacewing flies still fall under the purview of magical creature knowledge? I’m not sure your reasoning holds up as well as you’d like.”
“Shh—stop ruining my argument. The book lists them under the Potions section, so my logic stands.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “I’m certain you have loads of hidden talents that’ll help carry us to victory this year.”
Poppy let out a breath that was half sigh and half laugh; this boy could certainly be persistent. “Okay, fine. I believe you.”
“Excellent!” He smiled, pleased to see he’d gotten through to her. “And, as an added incentive to try your hardest this year, when we win the House Cup, we’ll ditch the crowded afterparty to go celebrate with Persephone instead—Gerald too if you must insist on inviting him.”
The girl lit up at the suggestion. “I do insist—and I’m holding you to that promise!”
“It’s on, then.” Well, now he really had the motivation to outperform this year—seeing as he’d apparently made Poppy a promise. One that had his heart beating ever so slightly faster after witnessing her excited response. But there was no time to focus on that right now; the pair had a mutual undertaking to get started on, and he needed to prepare for the long year ahead. “First, I’m going to need new school supplies and my own wand. Ready to head out?” He nodded towards the road and made to stand before finding himself abruptly cut off.
“Wait—” Poppy stopped him while motioning to her right side. A small cluster of particularly bold Lacewing flies was drifting closer towards the bench after having acclimated to their continued presence. The girl held out a hand in response, and a few landed on her outstretched fingers.
“Woah… How do you do that? You always make it look so easy.” Her deft handling of magical creatures never ceased to amaze him. It’s as though they instinctively knew she was a friend.
Poppy very slowly twisted to face her companion, careful not to disturb the resting insects. The luminous bugs crawled over her hand as she spun it about to keep as many of them in view as possible. Holding up her other hand, she allowed a couple to cross the divide so that they were all now safely contained within her cupped palms. “Do you have something to keep them in?”
“Uh—sure! Give me one moment.” The boy fished around in his pockets and found the empty vial of Wiggenweld potion he’d shared with Sebastian earlier. It wasn’t overly large, but for the time being, it would suffice as a short-term home for the Lacewing flies. Unstoppering the miniature bottle, he held it out to the girl. “Here.”
“Can you do it?” She raised her preoccupied hands with a shrug. “I’m a little engaged at the moment.” She saw him reach for his wand and shook her head, “Don’t bother with a Summoning Charm. They’re too delicate; you’d rip the wings right off the poor critters if you tried.”
“Good to know. So then…?”
“A Slowing Charm works best. Though I suppose you haven’t learned that one yet, have you?” The boy shook his head. “I should have considered that, but we’re here now—we’ll do it without magic then.”
“Right… um, I’ll just—” He scooted closer, closing the gap between them while bringing the vial up to where his companion held the insects. ‘It’s fine. You can do this—just focus on the Lacewing flies and stay calm—remember to breathe.’
Poppy made a slight opening with her hands, which allowed her to gently corral the insects up into the glass bottle’s opening. A few did manage to flutter away, which unconsciously prompted the boy to lean in even closer, his free hand now shielding the gaps in Poppy’s interlaced fingers while she worked on herding the flies into their new, temporary enclosure. Once they were finally done, he reinserted the cork to close off the vial as the Lacewing flies bounced around inside their translucent pen.
Still holding out the couple’s haul, the boy pulled back quickly while letting out the breath he’d been holding in. ‘What happened to remembering to breathe?’ Thankfully, Poppy was too busy studying the contents of the vial to notice his reaction—or retreating blush.
She lightly tapped at the glass while counting off their harvest. “Five of them, a whole little family—not a terrible start.”
“How many do I need?”
“This should be enough for a Focus Potion—if you want to impress Professor Sharp.”
“I suppose I could do that, but… they’re almost too pretty to toss into a random potion.” The boy watched as their lights flickered and danced, rebounding inside the glass container. He looked back over at the bushes and saw most of the remaining Lacewing flies had withdrawn to the nearby forest, evidently hiding from the two Hufflepuffs. “Their friends don’t seem to approve of our actions either.”
“We did kidnap five members of their colony.” Poppy’s expression started turning downcast as she considered their deed more thoroughly. “I suppose we’re no better than poachers to them.”
It was impossible to miss the distaste in her voice. It’s true that Lacewing flies were only insects, but, after his earlier experience with Persephone, the young wizard would be lying if he said that comparison didn’t make him a touch uncomfortable as well. Biting his lip uncertainly, he mulled over what to do before ultimately settling on the only acceptable answer—the one most likely to brighten his companion’s mood. ‘This is meant to be an upbeat trip, remember?’
“I know I did just promise we’d win the House Cup and all, but… I’m sure there are other potions I can brew which will equally impress Professor Sharp.” Locking in his final decision, he uncorked the vial, allowing the bugs to escape and fly back to their friends. “At least now they know we’re not poachers.”
Poppy turned to watch them all fly off. She stared at the tree line for a while, making sure the freed Lacewing flies reached their destination. Only once the five bright spots had reunited with the others did she finally turn back and whisper in gratitude, “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
“Merlin’s beard, I’m such a pushover.” Poppy looked a shade embarrassed, not gazing anywhere in the direction of her benchmate. “They’re just bugs; you must think it’s utterly stupid of me to grow so sentimental over them.”
“Did I say anything of the sort?”
“No…” She gave him a quick look before turning away again, biting her lip. “But that’s only because you’re too kind to actually say it.”
“Wrong—I didn’t say it because I didn’t think it. Now stop being so hard on yourself and let’s get back to the trail.” He would have preferred finding more eloquent words to reassure her with. Perhaps he could have expressed his admiration for her fondness for animals and assured her that he would never mock or impugn her character over it. But being direct and then quickly moving on as if nothing had happened did offer one advantage: it spared the self-conscious Hufflepuff girl from having to dwell on the moment any longer. Poppy was at least facing his direction again—a positive sign she was feeling slightly less abashed about the whole situation now even if he couldn’t quite make sense of the curious and inscrutable look she was giving him. ‘Hmm… perhaps that came off as tactless? Probably best to get going before I make it worse.’
The pair stood and made for the main road. Returning to the dirt path, they found themselves heading downhill at a meandering pace, plodding along without exchanging any further words. At least the elements were cooperating for now. September’s weather could be all over the place at times, bouncing sporadically between unbearable summer heat during the daytime and frigid fall evenings at night. Today, however, was proving to be quite pleasant as the afternoon progressed.
A brisk, chilly breeze swept over them. In the shade it may have left them shivering, but in direct sunlight while out on the open trail, it was a welcome reprieve from the heat of the sun hanging overhead, beating down on them. To their left, they passed Scots pines and other evergreen trees. To their right, the scent of fresh lavender permeated the air as a late-blooming patch of flowers came into view. The natural foliage surrounding them created a picturesque scene as the pair of Hufflepuffs walked on. Though naturally, every geographic feature was hilariously dwarfed by the all-consuming castle, which currently occupied most of their sightline. Hogwarts’s enormous size meant it easily towered over other nearby structures, including the upcoming cobblestone bridge and a shabby, decrepit-looking tower just beyond the horizon.
The boy was so consumed taking in the grandiose view that he almost slammed into Poppy as she came to a dead stop in front of him. The girl’s ears had perked up just as they approached the bridge, intently concentrating on… something. He wasn’t sure what she was listening for until a moment later when a distinct squawk rang out—the sound being loud but also far off.
In the distance, there was a disturbance high up in the tree line as leaves and branches began to rustle. At that exact moment, two large half-horse, half-eagle hybrids broke through the upper foliage of the forest—the majestic creatures soaring through the air in the direction of the Great Lake.
“Wow!” Exclaimed the boy. Their sudden appearance was unexpected but quite dazzling; he’d never seen such beasts before. “What type of creatures are those?”
Poppy, still standing in front of him, had her eyes transfixed on the pair of winged beasts, staring in wonder. She didn’t even acknowledge the question.
“Poppy…?” Her gaze still remained solely on the beasts. He snapped his fingers beside her ear. “Hello… You know what they are, right?”
Coming back down to earth just long enough to provide an answer, Poppy dreamily whispered a single word, “Hippogriffs,” before promptly returning to her state of enthralled fascination.
‘She’s really been bewitched by them.’ The boy murmured out half a lighthearted chuckle at Poppy’s reaction—the girl was easily captivated by beasts. He found it both humorous and adorable to watch.
Normally, he too would be awed at the sight of hippogriffs soaring through the air. They were such striking beasts with their beautiful combination of alabaster fur and feathers—the only color in their otherwise snow-white coats being mottled plumages of black lining the back half of each wing. And their remarkable size—carried with ease thanks to their impressive wing beats—was equally as extraordinary. The hippogriffs looked as if they could each support a rider, perhaps even two. Truly, anything at all about these mythical creatures should have been enough to instantly hypnotize the boy—they seemed to be plucked right out of a fairy tale, much like the Kraken whose tentacles had broken through the waves of the Great Lake this morning. Yet, the distracted teen just couldn’t bring himself to pay much mind at all to the Hippogriffs right now.
Instead, his attention was focused squarely on the overexcited Hufflepuff in front of him. Even from behind, he could tell Poppy’s face had lit up at the sight of the creatures. If she were any younger, he was certain the girl would have let out a childlike squeal of delight the moment the animals had broken through the foliage. ‘She really does love beasts.’ That much was blindingly obvious after everything he’d witnessed today.
As the pair of hippogriffs sailed through the air, making their way around the perimeter of the castle, Poppy twisted in place, keeping her eyes fixed on them at all times. Only once the two had flown beyond the castle and were fully out of sight did she finally turn around. Facing her travel partner once again, she immediately noticed the curious look he was giving her.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He shrugged, pursing his lips together inscrutably before his expression returned to normal. “Enjoying the view. That’s all.”
"Same here!" The girl beamed. “Hippogriffs are my absolute favorite.”
“I never would have guessed.” He responded with a hint of cutesy sarcasm while checking his Field Guide—fully aware that if it had been humming just now, he would certainly have missed it. However, there were no new entries under the Beasts section. “Hmm, seems I’ll need to get closer next time for this thing to register them. Any advice for luring out Hippogriffs?”
“I… may be able to help with that.”
“Then I’m looking forward to it. But we’ve probably dallied long enough. I do have to get back in time for Astronomy tonight.”
“Right. Follow me!”
The two set off again, moving at a livelier pace this time. Trailing a step behind, the new fifth-year returned to staring at the back of Poppy’s head. He couldn’t help but notice how the ends of the brunette’s hair bounced ever so gently off the hood of her robes while she walked. Or how she kept it styled in a neat and orderly fashion by sweeping the sides back and tucking those extra lengths of hair behind her ears.
The boy unconsciously started to consider the other students he’d met today and their haircuts, wondering if his current trim satisfied modern Hogwarts standards. ‘Might be best to ask Sebastian for advice.’ The Slytherin had shown up to class with unkempt bedhead but was somehow pulling the look off in effortless fashion. ‘Hmm, on second thought, perhaps it’d be wiser to find a different gentleman to ask.’ The Hufflepuff wasn’t convinced Sebastian’s ‘charming rapscallion’ image would suit him personally. He preferred something a touch more modest and respectable—something more the male equivalent of Poppy’s haircut. The girl’s hair had a reserved elegance to it, looking pretty but not flamboyant—well-kept but not overly fussy. Those and many more adjectives sprang to mind as he kept staring at it, ‘for research purposes, of course.’
Noticing a coterie of students up ahead of them on the trail, he quickly averted his eyes, mentally chiding himself for staring so much. ‘At least they aren’t looking in our direction.’ The self-abashed youth went back to surveying the natural landscape, finding the view much less distracting.
As the pair of Hufflepuffs approached the bridge, they eyed four of their classmates huddled about, standing in a group and looking off in the direction where the hippogriffs had flown. The multi-colored collection of robes, identifying that each member of the gathering belonged to a unique House—an odd sight to be sure—was currently engaged in discussion. The new fifth-year recognized the Hufflepuff among their ranks as none other than Arthur. He could also identify the Gryffindor—Leander—having caught the tail end of an impromptu duel between him and Sebastian prior to the start of Hecat’s class this morning.
When Poppy and her travel partner got closer, they could just overhear the conversation taking place—with their eavesdropping going unnoticed by the other group of students as they were currently turned away from the pair. Unaware of the two’s approach, Arthur was the first to speak. “Do you think Poppy’s already seen the hippogriffs?”
The Ravenclaw and Slytherin—whose names the new fifth-year did not know—both chimed in with their own responses. “Absolutely,” and “Likely already named them too.”
“Pfft, ‘Prancehoof’ and ‘Sugarfoot’ probably…” commented Leander dismissively.
‘Personally, I’d have gone with a name like ‘Blackbeak’ myself,’ the young wizard concluded after overhearing those rather derisive proposals. It sounded much nobler than ‘Sugarfoot’ at the very least. Although it wouldn't matter if Poppy had already named both Hippogriffs. ‘And, given how intently she’d been observing them, she probably already has.’ But, on the off chance one of them still needed naming, it didn’t hurt to ask.
The boy was about to do just that except he was interrupted by Leander. Not recognizing when to stop with the ridicule, the Gryffindor very tactlessly kept running his mouth, “In fact, knowing Peculiar Poppy, she’s probably got dolls of them hiding somewhere under her bed too—the only friends that loser will ever make.”
“Leander!” Arthur scolded his friend’s boorishness while the others laughed on.
“What? We’re all thinking it. Besides, you should know better than any of us what an odd bird Peculiar can be—she’s in your house. Probably hosts tea parties in the commons while no one else is around. I can just imagine her asking ‘Prancehoof’ to pass the lemon cakes while Jared—or whatever that stupid puffball from class is called—sits in the seat of honor, wearing a tiara.”
Until that final exchange, the two Hufflepuffs might’ve simply walked past the group and had a quiet giggle over the irony of the situation. But Leander’s continued disrespect had made that all but impossible. Poppy’s reaction had been visible to her travel companion throughout the entire conversation. At first, she had paused upon overhearing her name from Arthur. Then she had silently chuckled at the innocent gossip out of the unknown students. But now—after Leander’s rude japes—she simply pulled the hood of her robes up and was trudging onward, trying to get past that insensitive twat without being recognized.
Hogwart’s newest Hufflepuff wasn’t about to let the insults stand, however. ‘Haven’t you already made an ass of yourself once today, Leander?’ The Gryffindor had been condescending towards the professor back in Defense Against the Dark Arts earlier. Thankfully, Hecat made an example of him, much to the amusement of everyone else in class. But evidently, he learned nothing from that chastisement. 'Perhaps a second lesson is in order then.’
It would have been easy to levitate him at this distance—a repeat reminder that would recreate the Gryffindor’s earlier embarrassment in class. But the Hufflepuff had a different idea. Pulling out his wand before Poppy could protest, he quickly fired off a basic cast—aiming for a spot next to Leander’s feet. The red-robed teen jumped in surprise, nearly tripping over himself. Then he leapt a second time, even higher into the air, when the next basic cast landed closer still.
“Funny, Leander. From where I’m standing, it looks as if you’re the only one prancing about.” Poppy had instantly turned and grabbed at the boy’s arm, desperately attempting to drag him away once he’d started making a scene. But it was too late now—the group of incongruous students had immediately noticed the new arrivals after that public display. ‘Nothing to do but carry on with the plan.’ That plan being a string of retaliatory insults aimed at the prick who’d demeaned his companion.
“Though, I suppose the name ‘Prancehoof’ is already taken—how do you feel about being known as ‘The Gutless Gryffindor’ instead? It has a certain ring to it, don’t you think? They say your House is known for… what was it again? Bravery?” The boy tapped his chin in mocking consideration. “No, that can’t be right—not when you’re jumping higher than a kangaroo at the sight of a measly basic cast. No wonder Sebastian bested you so easily in class.” The Ravenclaw and Slytherin both snickered at the sarcastic insults—apparently not so loyal to their friend that they wouldn’t share in a good laugh at his expense. Poppy and Arthur, meanwhile, just looked on uncomfortably as events unfolded.
“Listen here, you little bastar—” Leander paused and then began to smirk. The Gryffindor had just now figured out the identity of the hooded figure standing behind the new Hufflepuff, “—don’t tell me she’s adopted you too? What are you supposed to be? Peculiar’s new guard dog?” He sneered, making a crude gesture in the girl’s direction. “She’s not going to let you sleep in her bed—no matter how well-behaved a puppy you are.” More laughter out of the non-Hufflepuffs present; more mortifying embarrassment out of all those wearing yellow.
“You’re going to regret—"
“Let. It. Go.” Poppy hissed in his ear, cutting him off.
The boy was seriously considering casting a Levitation Charm on Leander now—possibly also dropping him in the lake afterwards for good measure. ‘The Kraken can have a go at him.’ But the tugging on his arm had grown especially determined. Poppy was small—easy enough for him to physically resist—but… ‘You’re just going to make it worse for her if you keep this up.’ He sighed and relented, glowering at the Gryffindor one last time before turning and making his way over the bridge without another word.
Leander gloated in the distance as they retreated, “Run along now. This is exactly why I told Sebastian it was foolish inviting you into Crossed Wands—Hufflepuffs aren’t cut out for it! But I’ll thank you in advance for an easy win!” Without looking back, the new fifth-year merely shot him a rude hand gesture in response. It was only once he had cleared the bridge and was fully out of sight that he began to finally calm down.
Continuing on his way with Poppy, the boy glanced over at her out of the corner of one eye to gauge her reaction. She was utterly silent for the first time in a while—her stony face giving nothing away, especially with her hood still pulled up. The uncomfortable friction now lingering between the two of them was palpable.
It was impossible not to notice how she was intentionally ignoring him after that fiasco. He tried to speak up multiple times but couldn’t find the words to properly broach the subject of what had just happened. ‘You really are blowing this, aren’t you?’ Although what was he supposed to do? Just let it go? Pretend they hadn’t overheard Leander’s slimy insults? ‘Not a chance.’
As they walked on in sulking silence, the pair trundled past an entrance to the forest—multiple warning signs hanging over the dilapidated archway leading into the area. At the sight of it, Poppy finally spoke up again, but her tone was listless and purely informational. “That’s the Forbidden Forest,” she informed him, as though she were imitating the world’s least inspired tour guide. “Students aren’t allowed in there.”
He would have liked to ask Poppy a few follow-up questions about the area. In particular, what types of beasts roam the forest—they had just witnessed two hippogriffs emerging from the thicket after all—but it was no use right now. Their prior repartee and easygoing conversation were completely gone, lost to damnable silence.
A few more minutes passed with no further words exchanged between the two before the boy finally had enough. Figuring any amount of awkward conversation would be better than this intolerable sullenness, he spoke up at last. “Poppy, I’m… sorry.”
The girl huffed out an annoyed breath. “No, you’re not.”
“I—” He hesitated for a moment before ultimately exhaling a deep sigh, realizing it was no use lying to her. “No, I’m not.” The new fifth-year paused and subsequently turned to face the girl while tamping down on the frustration brewing inside him after having his apology so swiftly rebuffed. ‘Would it have killed you to play along though?’
But there was no use grumbling about that. Poppy wasn’t going to let him off with an empty show of remorse, which meant they had to hash it out, however unpalatable the conversation may end up being. The young wizard took a deep breath and tried to explain his actions. “That—back there—was just something I had to do. I mean… friends stand up for each other, right?”
The irked Hufflepuff brushed him off in annoyance, speaking with finality. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? I don’t have any human friends.” Poppy didn’t bother slowing her walk as she passed by where the boy stood—stopped in the middle of the road. Instead, she pressed on, widening the gap between them—not even deigning to look back as she offered one final piece of advice. “Do yourself a favor and stick with Natty.”
The boy started up again, walking backward so that he might keep pace with Poppy while still facing her way. It was the only available option, seeing as she was dead set on keeping her eyes facing straight ahead—in total disregard of him. “Actually, I’d prefer to—”
“Prefer to what? Humiliate us both again?” The girl snapped. “You think you were doing either of us a favor back there? That you were what—standing up for me?” His awkward shrug, as if to say ‘kind of’ in response to her question, only left the girl rolling her eyes at his high-minded gallantry. “I didn’t ask—or want—you to do that on my behalf.”
“I know.” He admitted, biting the inside of his cheek. The boy closed his eyes and hung his head dejectedly, a disquieting sense of contrition taking root in him after her verbal lashing. “I knew you wouldn’t approve.”
“Yet that wasn’t enough to stop you.”
“No, because…” His hands ambled about in the air, stalling for time as he gathered up the proper reply. “I did it because I—I saw how much his words were bothering you.” The boy’s tone took on a hint of exasperation as he grew more animated and imploring. “What would you prefer I have done? Pass them by and go back to chatting about Hippogriffs? Let you endure that abuse and then just move on as though nothing happened? Who would I be if I could do that?”
“Leander can be a git sometimes, but that doesn’t mean you’re allowed to stoop to his level—you could’ve easily landed yourself in detention had any professors been around to witness that little altercation.”
“I don’t care.”
“But I do.” She finally halted in the road, looking up at him with disappointment that cut deeper than any insult the Gryffindor had hurled his way. “That entire confrontation was degrading for both of us. And Leander’s going to be twice as obnoxious from now on. If you’re actually concerned about what he says, you certainly didn’t help matters.”
“I am sorry—truly—for making the situation worse for you. I want to make things right. It’s just… he called you that name, and I didn’t want you thinking that’s who you were.”
“Peculiar Poppy…”
He nodded, “I told you earlier, there’s nothing Peculiar about you—and I meant it. I don’t care what others think.”
“Most of the time, I don’t either.”
“Then why—” He was cut off with a shout.
“Because next they’ll be saying it about you too!” Her sulking tone turned fiery all of a sudden, the outburst catching the boy completely off-guard. “You think I want to be the reason other students start excluding you? To see them start whispering—laughing—behind your back?”
“Well, at least I wouldn’t be alone in that—you seem to be making it work just fine.” The boy’s biting response had been more indignant than intended, but he refused to be cowed. Softening up ever so slightly, he continued, “I’d rather be ostracized than join in with bullies. If that means we both end up as social pariahs, I can live with that.”
“Don’t use me as an excuse to become a loner. It’s only your first day—you can still change what others think of you.” Her frustrated expression grew more somber. “Everybody already knows I have no friends. Merlin’s Beard—even Professor Weasley knows it. Probably the only reason why she stuck you with me for this trip in the first place. As if I was ever the right choice.”
“Wait, what?” His head cocked back an inch in surprise, eyes darting around as he decoded the misunderstanding taking place. ‘Weasley never told her?’ Apparently, the Deputy Headmistress felt that particular detail was meant to remain in confidence, leading his companion to an entirely incorrect conclusion, which he summarily corrected. “Poppy, that wasn’t the professor’s choice. Weasley originally asked me to go with Natty or Sebastian. But I uh…” He gulped. “I wanted to go with you instead.”
“Oh.” The Hufflepuff girl went very quiet.
“I’ve—” He looked away, embarrassed and red-faced. “—been having a really wonderful time with you today. And I am sorry if I went and ruined things. But I truly don’t care what the others may say about me—not as long as I did what I thought was right.” He hesitated for a moment, no longer quite so adamant, but still managed to finish with a quiet resolve. “Maybe I went about it the wrong way, but don’t tell me it was wrong to stand up for someone being demeaned like that. I know you didn’t ask me to do it, but that’s the point—you shouldn’t have to.”
“I…” Poppy looked between him and the ground, unsure where to fix her gaze. “I need time to think.”
“Alright.” The boy grew apprehensive, unsure if this new development was a good sign or not. ‘Just have to wait it out. For the time being, there's nothing you can do.' Without another word, the pair turned and started on their journey once again. They followed the trail in silence, not meeting each other’s eyes while trekking onward.
They soon passed by a carriage being pulled by four black, skeletal horses with hairless reptilian skin. ‘Thestrals,’ the boy thought to himself. Professor Fig had already explained their significance to him last night after he’d witnessed their appearance in the midst of the dragon attack. ‘Only visible to those who have seen death—they’re rather morbid creatures…’ though he supposed it wasn’t their fault they were born that way. ‘It’s not as if they chose to be associated with death.’
He noted Poppy watching the beasts as they trotted along the path, instantly realizing that, ‘She can see them too.’ He would never ask, but the boy was saddened to think of the story that must be lying buried in the girl’s past, which explains her ability to perceive the creatures. Of course, she would already know that he could see them after their earlier conversation.
For the first time with a new beast, he actually felt his Field Guide humming as the entry was recorded. But he was in no mood to read it right now, the surrounding atmosphere feeling too gloomy—as though the Thestrals truly had cast an ominous shadow over them. The pair of Hufflepuffs trudged forward as the carriage eventually rolled out of sight behind them.
The path turned from dirt to cobblestone as they approached the hill upon which the village of Hogsmeade sat. Not too far away now, the road began winding back and forth on itself, cutting through the tree line as it snaked its way up the slope. More students and villagers began to dot the hillside as they neared their destination; a few passed by, heading back towards the castle.
Total silence still prevailed over the two Hufflepuffs, but at least it was bearable this time. The uneasy peace was disconcerting but certainly preferable to the suffocating silence that had previously hung over them like a miasmic cloud. ‘I do wonder what she’s thinking about over there.’ He was getting nervous imagining, at any moment, Poppy was about to inform him that after this trip they shouldn’t see each other anymore. ‘Only known the girl for a couple hours and yet—'
“Stop.” One word out of her was enough to completely derail his anxious thought process.
“What is it?”
Poppy didn’t answer, instead pulling off to the side of the road and sitting at a bench which overlooked the path they’d just come up from, affording a gorgeous view of Hogwarts and the Great Lake. He wasn’t entirely certain he was welcome until she patted the space beside her.
Fidgeting as he sensed some type of resolution fast approaching, he sat down, maintaining a respectable distance between them. ‘Here it comes.’ It was only a couple hundred meters until the top of the hill; was she about to send him off to run his errands alone? He didn’t regret any of the assertions he’d made, standing by his beliefs in right and wrong, but… ‘Why’d you go and admit it wasn’t Weasley’s choice? Are you intentionally trying to scare her off? I mean, talk about coming on strong.’ The new fifth-year sighed internally, realizing Sebastian had been right earlier, ‘too much honesty in Hufflepuffs…’ Not that he could help it most of the time.
Poppy was staring out at the lake while he eyed her from the side. To him, her expression may as well have been unreadable. She looked at the ground, blowing some of the hair on her fringe as it hung down, working up the courage to speak the words she’d been feeling right up until the pair had crossed paths with Leander. “Today has been… one of the best days I’ve ever had at Hogwarts—thanks to you.”
The new fifth-year sat there, stunned by the admission. ‘Because of… me?’ He’d heard the words correctly but still couldn’t process them, his mouth opening and then quickly shutting multiple times in a row without making a sound before finally stammering out a shaky response. “I—um… am flattered?”
“Well, don’t be. Not if you’re going to make an ass of yourself.” The words sounded harsh in theory, but he noted there was no venom behind them. She was… almost smiling? It was hard to say for sure, given she was still staring at the ground—her loose hair had started dangling freely, obscuring her features.
He wasn’t sure what he had anticipated when they came to a stop in the road—more frustration perhaps? But certainly, he was not expecting, ‘whatever… this is?’ He thought it best to stick to an apology, unsure what emotion the moment called for but figuring honest remorse couldn’t hurt. “I am sorry—genuinely, this time.”
“I know you are.” She put a hand over his, where it rested on the bench, and gave it the gentlest squeeze. “Thank you for doing what you thought was right.”
He blushed, angling his face away from the girl. “No points for execution, I suppose.”
She shook her head. “Uh-uh. But it’s the thought that counts.”
They both grew quiet again, staring off into space. ‘Seriously, what is this?’ Were they friends now? Did she fully forgive him? Why was it so hard to adjudicate those answers when it came to Poppy? Natty was straightforward and transparent. Sebastian was conniving and full of secrets. Those two represented entirely opposite ends of humankind, and yet, after fifteen minutes, he could come away with a better understanding of where his relationship stood with either of them than he could after spending hours with this one reclusive Hufflepuff girl. It was maddening not to know, but, at the same time, he was terrified to ask. What if the answer wasn’t to his liking?
He admonished himself for being so jittery. Poppy had accepted his apology and admitted they’d been sharing a marvelous day together—which was exactly how he felt too. And circumstances worked out in the end, far better than he could have hoped even as little as a few minutes ago. ‘If all that’s true, then why are you still so damn nervous?’ The agitated teen boy pulled his hand out from under Poppy’s, anxiously rubbing at his newly freed wrist while fretting about what to say next—finding only two words. “What now?”
She finally looked back up and smiled over at him. “Why, we have to get you to Hogsmeade, of course.”
“So, we’re… okay?”
“Yeah.” Poppy stood up with a stretch. “Can we just go back to the way things were earlier? I much prefer chatting about hippogriffs.”
Feeling an enormous sense of relief wash over him, helping to renew his failing confidence, the inquisitive youth knew just what to ask for once as they returned to the cobblestone road. “In that case… care to tell me what you actually named those hippogriffs?”
“Ha—not Sugarfoot, that’s for sure,” emphasized the girl. “The leading one goes by Highwing. As for the other… I haven’t decided yet. Prancehoof isn’t actually that bad, though. But only if he’s a natural dancer—I forbid you from slinging any spells at his feet to force the poor creature to tap dance.”
“I would never! Not to an innocent beast.” The boy scoffed at her slanderous insinuation, “May a Graphorn charge up this hill and flatten me if I’m lying.”
“Not even to Gerald?”
“Well, he’s obviously not innocent, now is he? So we’ll have to see in his case.” Their breezy dialogue was finally coming back, along with another menacing stare out of Poppy, which he still wasn’t completely sure was a joke or not.
“In the interest of not encouraging your worst impulses—” Poppy saw him tilt his head, giving her a mock offended look. “—I think it’s better if I rule out Prancehoof, just to be on the safe side. Did you have any suggestions?”
Not wanting to skip a beat, the boy chimed in with an answer, holding a fist up grandiosely. “I would name him Blackbeak, scourge of the skies—it sounds properly distinguished and noble if you ask me.” He looked over to see the girl giving him a halfhearted wave of the hand, signaling her stiff reception to the name. “You don’t like it?”
“Sounds like something a pirate would name their Fwooper.”
“Don’t you mean parrot?”
Poppy shook her head. “No.”
“Merlin, I am really going to need your help this year.”
“That’s what I’m here for. And we’ll need to workshop your name ideas. Scourge of the skies? Really?”
He rolled his eyes, responding in snarky fashion, “Oh, well, sorry my suggestion didn’t live up to your lofty standards.”
“Hmm, I will say one thing about it.” She flashed him a playful grin. “Your talent for naming beasts is certainly more accomplished than your sense of humor.”
“Thanks, I—hey, wait!” Poppy laughed, starting off in a jog, inviting him to try and catch her after that savage double insult she’d so cheekily delivered. He couldn’t pass on the opportunity to avenge his wounded pride, immediately giving chase. ‘And I thought Leander was a bully.’
Pursuing the nimble girl proved quite challenging, however—being not too dissimilar from chasing after Diricawls during lunch. Just when he thought Poppy was within his grasp, she’d elude him once more—either picking up speed or sidestepping him whenever he was within range to catch her.
Looking back, Poppy gloated as she ran ahead, “I thought you’d be faster?”
“You were sitting in class before this.” The boy huffed, feeling the strain now. “I was running around the castle for Professor Ronen.”
The two kept up the act for a little while until running uphill in dress shoes became more effort than it was worth. Poppy was breathing hard and laughing at having deftly avoided being caught. Her would-be pursuer, meanwhile, was panting ragged behind her, ‘she’s certainly sprightly—and I definitely need to exercise more.’ Not that cardio workouts would be much of a problem at Hogwarts with its endless staircases.
“I win!” Poppy declared triumphantly.
“We’ll call it—” He gasped out in protest, “—a draw.” Though that non-concession would likely have been more convincing had it not been punctuated by his heavy wheezing.
“Uh-huh.”
“I was… just about to get my second wind.”
“If you say so,” retorted the girl in a singsong manner, spinning and resuming her stroll up the hill while the second-place finisher tried to keep up, still catching his breath.
‘Aerobics were never really my thing anyways.’ Or at least, that’s what he told himself to justify losing a footrace to someone a full head shorter than him.
As the two moseyed towards the very top of the hill, they began passing by alternating sets of street lanterns decorating the sides of the road—a sure sign that civilization neared. Off to the left stood a distinctive, snappily dressed man who appeared oddly perturbed at the moment.
“Mr. Moon!” Poppy called out before filling in her travel companion. “He’s the caretaker at Hogwarts. Looks a bit worse for wear though.” She greeted the man as they approached. “Hello, Mr. Moon. Have you met our new fifth-year?”
“Pleasure.” The squirrely caretaker hastily replied. Then, turning back to the girl already familiar to him, Mr. Moon passed along some cautionary advice, only to interrupt his own words with an ill-timed hiccough. “You might want to turn back Miss Sweeting. Turn and—hic—run.”
“Is everything all right, sir?” Poppy asked earnestly, concerned with his erratic mannerisms.
“Oh, it looked right at me—eyes big as saucers!” The agitated man whined, seemingly terrified. His voice quavered with fear while he steadied himself against a tree trunk to remain upright.
“What did, Mr. Moon?”
“Demi—hic—guise. Ugly and hairy and… terrifying.” His panic was beginning to look entirely unwarranted now. Poppy’s shoulders slumped—all prior concern evaporating. She was evidently unconvinced that a Demiguise was anything to be afraid of. The boy was growing less worried as well, but for a very different reason. Each additional hiccough that punctuated the caretaker’s supposed warning made the man’s claims seem more and more dubious. Mr. Moon, however, paid their skepticism no mind. Too jittery and frightened to remain close to Hogsmeade any longer, he bid the two Hufflepuffs goodbye. “I shall be at the castle where it’s safe. Good luck to both of you.”
Once the man was out of earshot, Poppy finally spoke up again, somewhat exasperated by their strange interaction with the quirky caretaker. “A Demiguise? Merlin, what’s gotten into him?”
“And a Demiguise is…?”
“Oh, right. Think of them as something of a cross between sloths and small apes.” She clarified for the benefit of her uninformed partner. “But they’re only native to the Far East. You certainly wouldn’t find any in Scotland. And, even if one were here, it’s doubtful Mr. Moon actually saw it. They’re usually invisible.”
“Are they apex predators or something?” He asked, struggling to envision that it could be true. ‘Lethargic, invisible apes… hard to imagine them at the top of the food chain.’ But he assumed there must be some logical explanation behind the caretaker’s extreme phobia of the creatures.
“Herbivores through and through. And their eyes aren’t particularly large either. Perhaps Mr. Moon spotted a mooncalf instead—those are much more common around this area. Though, I’ve no idea how anyone could mistake the two. Still, he seemed rather frightened.”
“Is that usual for Mr. Moon?”
“I’m not sure—would hardly say I know the man all that well. But I’ve never seen him in such a state before.”
“Hmm, curious.” Or maybe it wasn’t so curious at all. Mr. Moon’s repeated hiccups suggested he may simply have gotten too far into his drinks this afternoon. As a new student, the boy didn’t want to speculate out loud on the off chance his conjecture might be wrong, but he suspected the older man was under the influence of something after their interaction with him. Alcohol seemed a rather mundane explanation for the man’s erratic behavior, but in his opinion, it was far more likely a possibility than Poppy Sweeting being wrong about beasts for the first time in her life.
The conversation about Demiguises had carried the pair all the way to the outskirts of the village. Finally arriving at the top of the hillside, the two Hufflepuffs crossed over a bridge together and forayed into the town. ‘So, this is Hogsmeade then.’
The area was alive with hustle and bustle. Townsfolk sat at outdoor tables enjoying their meals, children ran through the streets playing games with one another, even a Siamese cat brushed up against his leg as it chased a rodent into the alley. A multitude of shops lined the main road, their signs advertising all sorts of bargains and deals, their windows lined with fancy luxuries boasting high price tags. He and Poppy walked a little way into the village while admiring all that was on display. It seemed the shopkeepers were putting in a little extra effort today—Hogwarts’s start of term portending the arrival of a great many returning customers, especially for the shops catering to the needs of students.
Poppy stopped at a junction in the road. “Here we are. I know the village can be rather overwhelming on your first visit, but you’ll get the hang of it soon.”
“Is it always this lively?”
“Usually, except maybe when it rains. Hogsmeade is the only all-wizarding village in Britain.” The girl pointed out signs of magic around them. From a trail of floating tomes hovering behind a witch as she exited the bookstore to an animated watering pail tending to a small, nearby garden by itself—a wizard in the distance absentmindedly waving his wand to stop the thing before it overwatered the flowerbed. “Many witches and wizards tire of living among Muggles and having to hide their magic all day. When that happens, they flock here like bowtruckles on doxy eggs.”
He nodded at the unfamiliar idiom, deducing its meaning through context clues. “I see.”
“Anyways, Professor Weasley mentioned you would know what you’re here for?”
“Yes, dittany seeds, some spellcrafts, and a couple potion recipes.”
“And a new wand, don’t forget! I’m guessing, hmm…” Poppy's voice tapered off for a moment as she sized him up. “You strike me as the type of wizard to match with a unicorn hair core.”
“Is that so? Care to make a wager out of it then?”
Poppy laughed at his bravado. “You don’t have anything of value to wager, I’m afraid. Isn’t that why we’re here in the first place?” She hoped he wasn’t going to try betting his wand again.
“Touché. In that case…” His voice died down while he contemplated what offer he could make the girl. But, owning virtually no material possessions, he really didn’t have anything interesting to gamble with. Instead, he’d just have to open a line of credit with his fellow Hufflepuff and hope his word was good enough. “Alright, I’ll wager an unspecified debt, which you may call upon in due time.”
“Really? And how does one collect an ‘unspecified debt’ I wonder?”
He shrugged, “Name anything you want.”
“Anything at all?” Poppy exclaimed in surprise, raising an eyebrow at the audacious claim.
“Anything. At any time. In perpetuity until you collect,” he resolutely declared.
“That’s quite a bold wager. Sure you don’t want to put any conditions on it?”
“No conditions. I trust you.”
“Even if I asked you to be best friends with Gerald?” She ribbed, making him instantly regret his conviction in the girl.
“There is now one condition,” he flatly deadpanned, glaring at her.
Poppy snickered, having finally gotten to the boy, “So be it. I accept your terms.” She gazed up at him with impenetrable eyes and an inscrutable countenance he found unreadable. “I’ll… bet the same.”
“Deal.” Their bargain now struck, the new fifth-year was even more eager to get to Ollivander’s.
The girl seemed excited as well, needling him lightheartedly. “Though you should know, you’re going to lose.”
“Such confidence, but the odds are stacked against you, miss. I’m told wand cores come in three varieties, and you’ve only bet on one of them. Personally, I wouldn’t feel enthusiastic about two-to-one chances.”
“And I’ll be sure to remind you of that when I call in the debt,” remarked Poppy, undeterred.
The boy threw up his hands with a shrug. “Alright then.” If she was so eager to take on a losing bet, he wasn’t inclined to stop her. “Where to first?”
“Actually—” Poppy looked up at the position of the sun, which was starting to hang low in the sky. “In the interest of time, perhaps it would be best if we split up for now—the walk over took longer than expected.”
It was true, their journey to Hogsmeade had taken quite a bit more time than it should have—mostly because he’d taken just about every opportunity to slow them down. ‘For good reasons… That run-in with Leander notwithstanding.’ It was unfortunate they didn’t have enough daylight remaining to run their errands together, but perhaps they could return to Hogsmeade in the future, when time constraints were less pressing.
“Good idea. I can make my own way from here; the Field Guide has a map of the village.”
“Brilliant—I was about to ask. Meet me in the town circle when you’re done.”
“I’ll see you soon, Poppy.”
“Extraordinary,” gasped Mr. Ollivander, taken aback by the sudden flash of blinding light that had illuminated his cramped little shop. From beside his shelves of boxed wands, he spoke with great gusto and delight after having finally found the perfect match for his latest customer. “Another wand, another beginning of a bright and magical future!”
The new fifth-year turned back toward the elderly wandmaker, beaming enthusiastically. ‘Weasley was right; it does feel superior.’ It had taken a few tries—the shopkeeper made a point to test several variations of length, core, wood, and so on to little success. But after a few tries, everything changed the moment his hand came into contact with this particular wand. The boy had immediately sensed a thrum of magical potential rising within him, which manifested in the form of a radiant display of bright light.
“Now, how did that feel?” Mr. Olivander asked inquiringly.
“Good—different. I sense a sort of surge of some kind.”
“A match. Your connection seemed particularly powerful. The right wand will learn from you just as you learn from it.”
“I’m eager to try it out.” He twisted the wand in his hand, admiring it.
“Indeed! Treat it well and you shall find no more dependable a wand than one with a unicorn hair core.” The boy sighed, knowing that meant he’d lost the wager. Meanwhile, the shopkeeper continued speaking, blissfully unaware of how much his customer had been hoping to connect with a Phoenix core. “And the bond between you and your wand should only grow stronger. Do not be surprised at your new wand’s ability to perceive your intentions—particularly in a moment of need.”
The Hufflepuff, resigned to his defeat, decided to look on the bright side. Sure, he’d lost his bet, but the connection he felt to the wand held in his hand felt especially strong. It was far beyond anything he’d experienced with his loaner, as if entirely new magics were now his to command. Turning back with an enthused smile, he couldn’t wait to test it out. “That sounds wonderful, Mr. Ollivander.”
“I’ll let you get to it. Do come and see me again if ever I can be of further assistance.”
The newly equipped wizard wandered out of the shop, wand grasped firmly in his hand. ‘This is going to be an exciting year,’ he thought, hearing the door close behind him, its welcoming bell jingling out as it shut. ‘Now to find Poppy.’
The boy had already completed his other errands for the afternoon, having previously collected his Spellcrafts and other essentials for Transfiguration, Potions, and Herbology class—all of which he would be attending the following day. ‘As well as Flying.’ Thankfully, he didn’t need to bring his own broom for that particular course—Professor Fig having assured him the school kept plenty of loaners on hand for the less affluent students to make use of during class. ‘Heh, less affluent is certainly one way of politely saying penniless bum.’ Without a Knut to his name, the destitute fifth-year wondered how he’d ever be able to afford his own broom for recreational flying outside of class. A part-time job seemed out of the question given his already impacted schedule for the year. ‘Something to worry about another time,’ he supposed. At least the school had been generous enough to pay for everything this afternoon—replacement supplies and a new wand didn’t come cheap.
With everything in order and his to-do list fully checked off, he started heading in the direction of North Hogsmeade. His fellow Hufflepuff had indicated he would find her there. As he walked, he passed by a musician single-handedly playing a symphony of instruments while conducting them all with his hand. ‘Impressive, must take real talent coordinating them all at once,’ mused the boy while strolling by. He’d have thrown a coin or two in the collection hat if he had anything to give, but poverty was the harsh new reality of his life—as he was becoming increasingly aware. ‘I’ll throw you double next time,’ he silently promised instead.
Ambling under an archway, he entered into the town circle and caught sight of yellow robes over near a statue. There were quite a few Hogwarts students about, but they were mostly fifth-years and up, making this particularly tiny Hufflepuff stand out among the crowd. The boy casually strolled up behind her while she admired the centerpiece.
“I like your new haircut.” It hadn’t been much of a change, but her shoulder-length hair had been pared back a couple inches and now curled inward at the neck. It ever so slightly jutted forward at the ends now, just enough to keep the tips from brushing against her robes whenever the girl turned her head—as she did just now in response to the voice coming up behind her.
“Thanks. I try to keep it short for the beasts.”
“They have a preference for short hair?”
“No.” She smiled at his naïve confusion. “They have a preference for long hair—and that’s the problem. Ponytails and the like make for prime targets when the Kneazles are in a playful mood and looking for new toys to bat around. Also, the longer it is, the easier it is for beasts to pull on it—best to keep your hair trimmed if you ever plan on becoming a magizoologist.”
“Magi-zoo-what-now?” He apologetically motioned with his hands, reminding her, “Still just an oversized first-year, I’m afraid.”
“A witch or wizard who studies magical creatures professionally.”
“So… what you already do, essentially? Except they get paid for it?”
“No, they get paid because there’s actual research and publishing involved at the professional level. My Gran would know; she’s quite an accomplished magizoologist—probably authored hundreds of papers over her years of study.”
“That sounds like quite a noble profession—hopefully one that pays well enough to afford frequent haircuts.”
“We certainly aren’t a wealthy household—those tend to be sorted into Slytherin anyways—but yes, Gran at least sends me to school with enough Galleons for a monthly haircut.”
“Well, it suits you.” That was the diplomatic way of putting it. Were he bolder, he would’ve told her she looked quite fetching or that the haircut charmingly accentuated her features. But he was, unfortunately, rather clueless and a coward when it came to flirting. Plus, he considered himself lucky she was even still deigning to talk to him after that earlier mishap with Leander. It was probably best to just keep the conversation polite and cordial for now, if only to minimize his risk of cocking things up again. “What else have you been up to?”
“Brood and Peck was holding a start-of-term sale—I may have splurged on a new brush while I was there. Plus, it was nice to see Miss Peck again. And of course, it wouldn’t be a proper trip to Hogsmeade without purchasing a few treats.” Poppy retrieved a folded-up wax paper bag from a pocket lining the inside of her robes, holding it out for him. “Here… for you.”
The smell of warm pastry wafted through the air. The boy detected both sweet and savory hints as he bit into the confection, which turned out to be some type of roll filled with ground walnuts, currants, and a trickle of spices that left a warm and pleasant aftertaste in his mouth. “Mmm, that’s delicious. Thank you, Poppy.”
“Honeydukes has plenty of magically infused treats too, though I find the less gimmicky sweets to be the tastiest. Mr. and Mrs. Redding make fantastic pastries.”
“I can tell. This nut roll is fantastic. The cinnamon adds a beautiful kick. And yes, I’ll be sure to keep it away from Gerald—as if I’d share anything this tasty with that gremlin.”
“You better.” Poppy stood there, carefree and smiling a tad impishly in his direction as he finished off the last of his pre-supper treat. “So, about that new wand…”
The boy sighed, no longer able to avoid that particular subject. “Unicorn hair—you win.”
Poppy clasped her hands together behind her back while triumphantly reminding him of the stakes they’d wagered. “Anything I want, huh?” She was practically rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet in giddiness.
“Please go easy on me.” He entreated, wondering how she had predicted the outcome so easily. “You were so confident earlier—thought for sure that hubris would be your downfall. How did you know, anyways?”
“Easy. You would’ve felt too guilty about the dead dragon to match with a heartstring core.”
“I suppose that makes sense.” Poppy was correct that heartstring could only be harvested from a dragon that had died… or been intentionally slaughtered. ‘Are Mr. Ollivander’s suppliers really out there hunting down living beasts?’ That thought made him uneasy—the exact reaction his Hufflepuff companion had no doubt been counting on to push him toward one of the other two types of wand cores. “So, it was actually a fair coin flip then.”
“Not quite.” Poppy smiled, revealing her final bit of guile. “Phoenix cores are the rarest by far. It was certainly a possibility, of course, but—in the words of someone I know—the odds were stacked against you.” She flashed him a crafty grin. “You really ought to have heeded my warning.”
“Tch—to think I was played for a fool so easily. How could I be so naïve?”
“Well… you are just a glorified first-year, remember?”
The boy pouted facetiously. “Oh wonderful, now she’s using my own jokes against me too.” He met eyes with the devious charlatan who’d hoodwinked him, sensing absolutely no remorse in her. ‘Ha, figures—she and Gerald truly are made for each other. Both cunning and dastardly, it’s a wonder she’s wearing yellow and not green…’ It was going to be a long year if he kept allowing himself to be bested like this. “Is this how Poppy Sweeting gloats in victory?”
She gave him a consolatory pat on the arm. “I was one step ahead this time, but you’ll learn eventually.”
The new fifth-year rolled his eyes—there was certainly one thing he’d learned over the course of their exchange. “You have a unicorn hair core as well, don’t you?”
“Mm-hmm. Unfortunately, you don’t win anything for guessing that now. I already gave the game away.”
Figures the girl that holds sympathy for trapped Lacewing flies would never match with a dragon heartstring wand. And while Poppy did strike him as the rare sort of individual that would bond with a phoenix core, he had a feeling she just preferred unicorns in general. “We’re more alike than I realized. Well, professor, what can you tell me about unicorns?”
“Too much to cover before we have to head back, but we can make a study session out of it someday if—um… you’d like that?”
‘Yes! Okay, deep breath, even tone of voice now.’ He smiled reassuringly, trying not to reveal the true extent of his inner excitement. “I uh—would very much like that, Poppy.”
“Good. I can tell you that unicorns are fiercely loyal and noble-hearted—qualities they pass on to their respective wands. Mr. Ollivander would tell you unicorn hair, while reliable, makes for the weakest type of core overall—but he’s wrong about that.”
“Is that so? And when did you become an expert in wand making?”
“Not wand making, but my family does have some amount of expertise in unicorns. My Gran’s great-great-grandfather was a remarkably gifted Magizoologist specializing in their care. And if he were alive today, he’d tell you that unicorn hair cores are stronger than any other—or at least, they are when bonded to a witch or wizard truly worthy of them.”
“I’ll take his word for it—and try to be worthy. Guess that means I really can’t afford to go sprinkling cinnamon and cloves over Gerald’s food.”
Poppy narrowed her eyes at him. “You better not. Or I’ll end up doing something very unworthy as well.”
“Kidding. Kidding.” Why did these jokes always have to end in him raising his hands in fearful surrender? “Keep in mind, you can’t collect on the debt if you murder me first.”
“Then you best behave yourself.”
“Duly noted. And thank you for the lesson. Perhaps you can introduce me to an actual unicorn one day.”
“Um… actually I’ve never met one myself. Not even when I was a child…” She trailed off, though the boy could swear he heard her whisper, “Thank Merlin for that,” just under her breath.
“Odd, I would’ve expected you to have met loads by now.”
“No—never seen one in person, I’m afraid. I’ve always wanted to.” She replied wistfully. “But they tend to be elusive in the wild. And the few unicorn sanctuaries that do exist are fiercely guarded, owing to how highly sought after the beasts are.”
“Well, maybe someday you’ll get your chance.”
“Perhaps.” Poppy gazed up at the sky, prompting the boy to tilt his head up as well. The sun was starting to hang low; nightfall would be upon them soon. “Seems we’ve exhausted all our time here. Best to head back now if we want to make dinner in the Great Hall…” The girl tapped her fingers together nervously, looking as though that wasn’t all she had to say.
“What is it?”
Taking a deep breath, Poppy spoke quietly and timidly. “Actually… I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind—” But whatever request she was about to make froze in her throat. Not out of stage fright, but rather, she was cut off when a heavy crashing noise resounded through the town circle. Everyone in the area paused as the very ground started to tremble beneath them—rumbling in a way that grew louder and louder, eliciting gasps from several of the pedestrians congregated in the center of Hogsmeade.
‘Earthquake?’ Thought the boy as the clamoring continued unabated. But it couldn’t be that. The uproar was coming entirely from one direction. Furthermore, it seemed as though the disturbance was drawing nearer until finally the true source of the commotion came sprinting into view. A gigantic mountain troll leapt over the cobblestone retaining wall, bringing its massive war club down as it landed in the center of the town circle—missing a pair of witches by mere inches. The enraged beast roared as it hefted its weapon back up, ready to strike once more.
The town circle remained still for a single moment. Then total pandemonium erupted in Hogsmeade.
Notes:
I do apologize for taking so long on this one. Ideally I'd like to get two chapters out per month. Not one chapter out every two months. But this is a long update at least, clocking in at nearly 18k words, so hopefully it will be enough to keep everyone happy for a little while. Also I was fostering an adorable maltipoo puppy with a heart condition for the past few weeks so he, very understandably, ate up most of my free time. But I will try to be faster in the future.
This chapter went through a couple revisions as I tried to nail the sweet spot between the cute little moments but then also have the frustrating blowup that happens toward the middle. Didn't want everything to go too smoothly or be too idyllic for our future couple. I think it introduced a small hiccough while still moving the plot forward in a meaningful way and we got a nice little heart-to-heart out of it too. So I'm excited to hear what people think about this one. And happy to listen to any constructive feedback too if you've got suggestions.
I do apologize to any Leander fans in the crowd. I promise he won't be a complete jerk or anything for the entire duration of the story. But you must admit he does come off as a lil' bit of an asshole at the start of the game. Though perhaps he'll earn some redemption eventually. But we can worry about that later cause there's a troll to fight for now. Chapter 4 will certainly make for a interesting change of pace as we get into the first major fight of the story and (finally) wrap up the first day of the story. I've got some plans in the work which are starting to be foreshadowed, I'm excited with where things are heading.
Also, just a quick thank you to everyone who left encouraging comments on the last chapter, I really do appreciate it! Trying my best here. I've never written anything significant before so this is all new to me. Hopefully you continue to enjoy this story. It may take about a decade to complete at the current rate (I have A LOT of future chapters planned) but I definitely want to finish it eventually.
Sacredsword3421 on Chapter 2 Thu 02 Jan 2025 05:48AM UTC
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ashara (Guest) on Chapter 2 Thu 30 Jan 2025 02:16AM UTC
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Ashara (Guest) on Chapter 2 Sat 01 Feb 2025 03:51AM UTC
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Kingswriter on Chapter 2 Thu 30 Jan 2025 10:08PM UTC
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Bunit117 on Chapter 2 Fri 31 Jan 2025 05:45PM UTC
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IAML3G3ND on Chapter 2 Tue 25 Feb 2025 06:45PM UTC
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Bunit117 on Chapter 2 Sun 02 Mar 2025 08:59AM UTC
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Genboxcutters on Chapter 2 Thu 27 Feb 2025 01:38AM UTC
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Bunit117 on Chapter 2 Sun 02 Mar 2025 09:02AM UTC
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IAML3G3ND on Chapter 3 Sun 02 Mar 2025 03:07PM UTC
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Kingswriter on Chapter 3 Tue 04 Mar 2025 12:13PM UTC
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Genboxcutters on Chapter 3 Thu 06 Mar 2025 07:09AM UTC
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