Chapter 1: ♪๑ TA LETTRE - BLOWSOM ๑♪
Chapter Text
“It doesn't stop being magic just because you know how it works.”
๑ Terry Pratchett ๑
June 20th 1985 - 7:19 p.m.
An owl struck the workshop window. Emilie lifted her brush, letting a drop of ink fall onto the wooden table. With a curse, the woman placed it next to the artifact she was working on to open the window. The old owl presented her with a letter whose seal she immediately recognized. As she was about to grab the letter, the bird's beak bit her hand. She immediately retracted it, not out of pain but more out of fear that the owl would ingest a fragment of the magical ink staining her hand.
"You're hungry Darling ? You had a long fly didn't you ?"
Emily returned to her desk and grabbed some berries from her snack bowl. The inventor had a tendency to stay locked in her workshop all day and thus forget to eat. She returned to the messenger bird and handed it the berries with a smile. She then grabbed the letter as the owl ate quietly. She hadn't received a letter from Hogwarts since leaving Ilvermorny eight years earlier. It was only a congratulatory letter and an invitation to continue her higher education at the British institution. She had refused at the time, knowing full well that Hogwarts couldn't offer her the knowledge she desired.
She finally opened the letter, silencing the old record player with a flick of her hand.
Albus Perceval Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
EnglandEmilea Belleau
Bealleau Greenhouses Complex
America, State of LouisianaSUBJECT: Job Offer as a Professor at Hogwarts
Dear Miss Belleau,
Five years ago, you and your colleagues began a fight to include new subjects in the American school curriculum. Your struggle, though domestic, was heard abroad. On May 27, 1985, after much deliberation, the British Ministry of Education and Research decided to give the new subjects you proposed a chance.
I am not content with this letter to inform you of this; I also wish to personally offer you the position created for this occasion. I would like to welcome you to my school so that you may teach interested students the ancient arts of wandless magic, as well as the creation and manipulation of artifacts......Sincerely,
Emilie slumped into her office chair, stunned. She never thought she'd be offered such a job. Sure, she'd dreamed of it, but she didn't think her dream would come true in England of all places. Sure, she had suggested to the United States Department of Education and Research a few years earlier that wandless magic and Artifact education be included in the school curriculum, but she hadn't expected to receive a positive response, especially not from the department of a completely different country. She'd never been to England, and yet...
She put the letter back on her desk and turned on the lamp. Bending over the magnifying glass attached to the robotic arm, she picked up her brush and dipped it once more into the vial of ink. The small basin of magic ink bore a label indicating its contents, which then read 'Fire Ink: Test 278'. She traced the fire sigil in the center of the small circle and closed the artifact's bell. She pushed a small button on the base that closed the pentacle's circle and watched in silence as the ink glowed red before abruptly bursting into flame. The next moment, the flame extinguished in thick gray smoke that filled the small glass dome. Emilie sighed and leaned back gently in her chair. She closed her eyes and let her mind wander to her failure.
Febuary 17th 1974
"Miss Belleau, your behavior is a disgrace to your house," the headmistress bellowed.
"And your family."
Eileen was Emilie's father's younger sister. 15 years her junior, she was only 11 years older than her niece. Emilie sat in the chair facing the headmistress's desk. Her aunt had refused to sit down since learning the reason for her summons. Emilie had gotten into a fight with a boy from another house. He was seriously injured and currently unconscious in the infirmary. Her aunt sighed in annoyance and pinched her nose, as she usually did when frustrated.
"What am I going to say to Eddie and Rosalie... You'd better have a good excuse, young lady."
Emilie absentmindedly played with the folds of her skirt and whispered.
"Is Kyle okay?"
The headmistress let out an annoyed laugh.
"It wasn't Kyle you sent to the infirmary, Miss."
"I know... Is Kyle Wood okay?"
The old woman sighed and nodded.
"He came looking for us, saying a student needed help. We then found you straddling Elliot, hitting him. Before we punish you, I want to know the reason for this... incident."
Emilie sighed and wiped the blood from her lip with her hand. She looked calmly at the headmistress as she recited the Pukwudgie anthem.
"Like a healer’s hand, I am guided by my heart. Before the face of wrong, I will take my part."
June 21th 1985 - 9:57 a.m.
Emilie woke with a start the next day. She had fallen asleep there after two days of hard work. Her gaze fell on the letter in front of her and she smiled softly. She had succeeded. Someone had listened to her project and someone wanted to make it happen. She had never imagined herself teaching, and yet she knew she would love it. She loved more than anything seeing the faces of her fellow researchers light up when one of them presented a new discovery... so a bunch of children, every day? She would love that. She grabbed her writing utensils and swept the defective artifact off her desk.
Emilea Belleau
Belleau Greenhouses Complex
America, State of LouisianaAlbus Perceval Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
EnglandSUBJECT: Job Offer as a Professor at Hogwarts
Dear Professor Dumbledore,
Eight years ago, you wrote to me asking me to study at your school for the rest of my studies. I unfortunately declined your offer because your school could not have provided me with the knowledge I wanted to acquire in my life. Today, you are asking me to teach your students what you could not offer me eight years earlier. I will not repeat that offer this time.
I accept your offer to become a Professor of Wandless Magic and Artifacts at Hogwarts. I agree to live at the castle for the next few years of my life, and above all, I accept my role and the responsibilities that come with being the first to do so. I await your owl for further information about my new position and the exact timing of my move to the castle.Sincerely,
July 31th 1985 - 6:16 p.m.
Emilie gently squeezes the strap of her bag in the palm of her hand. Minerva offers her a doorknob.
"All you need is to insert it into the wall and your door will open. The caslte will make the perfect room for you. Don't worry."
Slowly, the young woman inspects the wall before sighing and pushing the piece of metal between two bricks. A warmth invades her body, making her shudder. An old wooden door painted with a multitude of flowers appears between the castle's shifting stones. She was speechless: never in her entire career as an inventor had she seen such a sophisticated artifact. This entire castle was a masterpiece of charms and enchanted objects, secrets lost for centuries. She glances at Minerva, who signals her to continue. Emilie finally turns the handle and finally pushes the door open.
The bricks can still be seen shifting to form the rooms of the small apartment. Emilie takes a few steps across the wooden floor, amazed. The first room consists of a small kitchenette against the right wall and a staircase on the opposite side leading to a mezzanine that, from where she stood, resembled a workshop with a library wall. In front of her was a dining table. She slid her hand along the dark, varnished wood as she moved further into the room. Under the stairs, she saw a green-tinted wooden door with a sign reading 'Bathroom' on it. The wall cut into the room just beyond the door, leaving a large opening between the dining room and the bedroom. As Emilie stepped through the curtains that hid the second room, Minerva beckoned to her.
"I have to go. I still have some business to settle with the other teachers. We'll all eat together in the common room at 8 p.m. Don't hesitate to join us."
Emilie let out a small noise to indicate she'd heard and continued to admire her new home. It was certainly smaller than her quarters in the family greenhouse, but she could easily accommodate it. She sat down on her bed and sighed before snuggling under the covers. It had been two days since she'd traveled from home to the distant province of England that housed Hogwarts. She was exhausted, and without even taking the time to change, she dozed off. The door to her quarters closed by itself.
Chapter 2: ♪๑ Dream - Fleetwood Mac ๑♪
Chapter Text
“Not all those who wander are lost.”
๑ J.R.R. Tolkien ๑
July 31th 1985 - 7:48 p.m.
Emilie woke up to the sound of knocking at her door. She got up and sumbled to her door. The woman came face to face with a house elf. The small creature was looking at her. At least, that's what Emilie dared to think, since the elf's large ears largely hid its face. The vision of the old flour sack that served as the creature's meager girdles worried the inventor, who thought how uncomfortable the textile must be to wear. In a thin, high-pitched voice, the creature murmured.
"Does Miss wish to eat with the other professors, or should Wimpy bring her her meal?"
At that moment, Emilie became aware of the lunch cart that accompanied the creature. She ran her hand through her brown hair and sighed. She was still drowsy from her recent awakening.
"Thanks for waking me, Wimpy. I'm going to join the professors. Could you wait here for me? I'll need your help to get to the Great Hall."
The elf jumped, her large ears perking up for a moment to reveal two large black eyes. Emily found herself wondering if house-elves' eyes had any magical properties she could use in her inks. She pushed the morbid thought from her mind and returned to her room to get ready briefly. She didn't need to look perfect, but she especially needed to be presentable, which was far from the case between her wrinkled clothes and messy hair. She looked like she hadn't slept in a week, which was partly true. Between her latest research and preparing for her trip to the castle, Emilie hadn't taken much time to sleep.
She came out a few minutes later and followed the little elf who was still pushing the food cart. Wimpy seemed to jump in panic every time the hem of Emilie's skirt brushed against her. Emilie moved away from the elf so she could walk at a distance that ensured her skirt couldn't touch her again. She made sure of that, though, by grabbing the hem of her skirt. Wimpy looked at the teacher for a moment, surprised, then jumped when she realized she was looking back and began to push the cart faster.
July 31th 1985 - 8:14 p.m.
The doors to the Great Hall were open, and the smell of food hung in the air. It wasn't the only thing in the air, considering the hundreds of candles illuminating the false ceiling of the school's Great Hall. Peals of laughter echoed through the great hall, and Emilie thought she recognized McGonagall's voice. The house-elf hesitated for a moment as she arrived at the great doors, as if she didn't really know what to do. Whisper something banal about the Great Hall? Point to the doors and run away? Emilie knelt down to her level.
"Thank you for showing me around. You must have important things to do, right ?"
The creature jumped before grabbing the cart and disappearing into an adjacent corridor. Emilie stood up, smiling, and watched the professors from afar. None of them seemed to have noticed her arrival. Well... Emilie caught the eye of a man, barely older than her. Or maybe younger? She had a strange feeling she'd seen him somewhere before. He had long black hair falling in loose curls over his shoulders, and his dark eyes echoed Wimpy's. Except his seemed cold and distant rather than frightened. She smiled softly at him and greeted him from across the room. He leaned toward Minerva and gestured in her direction with a small nod of his head. Meanwhile, Emilie had already joined the teachers' table. The assistant directress smiled and pointed to the chair right next to her.
"I though you wouldn't join us Dear."
"Oh no. I... had set an alarm. Yeah... I really wanted to meet y'all before anything."
Minerva laughed innocently and handed her a clean plate, inviting her to help herself. Minerva was one of those women who seemed to be in control of the moods of the people around her. Or maybe her good humor had radiated so much off Emilie since they'd met that she was jumping to conclusions. The woman reminded her a lot of her mother, with her graying hair that belied her fifties and her rectangular glasses. Minus the pointy ears, though.
"Everyone, this is our new colleague. Emilea Belleau."
Emilie smiled softly and helped herself to the dishes she'd already started. A woman with blond curls put down her glass of wine—although from the smell, it was definitely berry juice—and introduced herself.
"I'm Pumfresh. But you can call me Poppy, everyone calls me Poppy. Well... except Snape. Anyway, I'm the school nurse."
The nurse's initiative led the rest of the small group to introduce themselves. The old librarian with the fancy hat was named Irma Pince, and the woman Emilie's father said seemed to miss Woodstock informed her that she was 'haunted by memories of her past,' before the cold-eyed man interrupted.
"Trelawney. Divination professor as you would have guessed. And I'm Snape. Potion master."
Emilie froze for a moment when she heard her name. She suddenly remembered this article she had read in the magazine 'Magic Youth', a magazine she had gotten used to reading since she herself was an editor of one of the sections. She had read this article probably 4 years ago. Severus Snape, his full name, was described as a potions prodigy who had never left the Hogwarts benches since his integration at 11 years old until taking up his post 10 years later.
"Oh... Aren't you the youngest potion master in europe ? I've read about you in the newspaper."
Snape stared at her, and Minerva nodded, explaining Severus' annoyance when these articles had appeared a few years earlier. She teasingly ruffled his hair, and he immediately brushed her hand away. He adjusted his hair, not without staring at the transfiguration teacher, and sighed. He tapped the stem of his glass, which was filling with an amber liquid. Refiling glasses are a fairly common artifact that consists of a simple pentagram of communication between the glasses and the source of the liquid. Emilie had seen plenty of them in her career, as they were pretty fragile and needed regular maintenace if used frequently. She had even amused herself by making her own version of the artifact so as to never run out of base for her inks. Snape pursed her lips into a thin line at Minerva's childishness and turned to Emilie.
"And pray tell what subject you will be teaching to the students ? I don't recall any teachers missing in the team."
"Oh that's normal. I'll be teaching a new subject-"
Emilie broke off with a scream as a ghost emerged from the table. Poppy was about to get up, alerted by the scream, when Emilie started laughing.
"Oh dear Flamel... Sir Binns! You scared me."
"I'm sorry, Miss. I was simply intrigued by the mention of a new subject at Hogwarts. In my entire existence, living or dead, the last subject to be introduced was Divination."
Emilie then explained the subject she would teach under the watchful eye of the historian ghost floating above the table. It eventually fell asleep and disappeared into a luminescent powder.
"Well... I was wondering if there were any... anything to do before the return of the students."
A few glances turned toward the American, and Trelawney tried to interject again, interrupted by Snape's disapproving look. McGonagall was amused and nodded, swallowing the last of her plate.
"You'll need to prepare your lesson, but I'm sure you're already prepared, dear. You'll need to prepare your classroom too. I could use some help preparing textbooks from last year's donations."
"Donation?"
Poppy looked up from her plate after finishing it. She delicately wiped her lips with her napkin. The gesture reminded Emilie of her aunt, who abhorred table discussions. She strictly adhered to the etiquette of the pure-blood society and constantly wiped her lips with an old handkerchief, which, according to Emilie and her mother, smeared her lipstick in a horrible way, every time they touched food. The nurse smiled, unlike Eileen, and the memory of her father's younger sister faded from her mind.
"Indeed. 7th years or students who don't need their textbooks anymore donate them for new students who can't afford them. Many students need this system. Severus, for exemple, used to-"
"I used to do nothing. Could you all stop including me in this conversation ? I'm trying to eat peacefully."
Minerva ruffled her hair in an affectionate gesture that made the Potions Master sigh in annoyance, but he didn't push her away.
July 31th 1985 – 9:57 p.m.
The conversations eventually died down, and everyone returned to their rooms. Emilie passed by the door next to hers, catching a glimpse of the chaos inside, like the old storage room of her family greenhouse. Her theories were shattered, however, when Severus blocked the doorway and looked at her questioningly.
"Is there any problem?"
"No, no... I just—nevermind. Have a good night, Severus."
She leaned forward respectfully, then walked away to her room. Severus grumbled something about not calling him by his name, then slammed the door shut.
Lunatic15 on Chapter 1 Thu 14 Aug 2025 11:00AM UTC
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Lunatic15 on Chapter 2 Sat 13 Sep 2025 02:36PM UTC
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Lysaa_themys on Chapter 2 Sat 13 Sep 2025 02:46PM UTC
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