Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

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Alya, as a general rule, liked being right. She didn’t think that was really anything noteworthy, though. Everyone liked being right, just like no one enjoyed being wrong. It was a simple fact of life, and she was obviously no exception.

Sometimes, though, she couldn’t help but think that she’d like to be.
Sometimes, very rarely, she would very much like to be wrong.

Not often, of course, and only under very specific circumstances, but some days the wish was definitely there. As a soldier (and Alya would likely never stop thinking of herself as one, not even now that she was no longer Helena—Dumbledore had more than just made sure of that), she couldn’t afford to be wrong under any circumstances, and even if she were, she at the very least couldn’t doubt herself on her decisions. People could die if she doubted herself, she had learned during the war—being wrong, making a mistake, that was what got both civilians and her comrades into danger, but it was hesitation that killed them. It was not something she could afford, and as such, she really disliked every instant where it happened. 

Being wrong, she had long since realised, was only nice whenever it involved awful predictions of the future. Those short little quips, these quiet remarks—the sentences that would best be described as ‘someone jinxing themselves’. Something terrible is about to happen. Someone is about to die. This is not going to end well. Those were the kind of things Alya greatly enjoyed being wrong about. Only good things ever came from being wrong about those specific kinds of things.

So, of course, she would have also very much liked to be wrong about her two newest predictions for the future—that Fiole Belaya was going to be a common sight and that something big was coming.

She would have very much enjoyed being wrong about either of those things.

As was often the case, she wasn’t.

Belaya, as she had somewhat expected, was the bigger (or at least the more immediate) of the two problematic predictions.
After the first (second) accidental run-in with him outside the DADA on Tuesday, he somehow managed to show up everywhere. When they left Potions class that same day to walk to the library (Natty wanted to get a book on History of Magic for Anne), he was there next to the fountain, sending her a friendly wave and a grin as she walked past. That same evening, they settled into seats at the Gryffindor table only to discover a few minutes later that one of Belaya’s friends was sitting just behind them at the Hufflepuff table—suddenly, unwillingly, Alya spent her entire meal sitting as good as face-to-face with the person she wanted to see the least right now.

Within just one day, she had stumbled over Fiole Belaya three separate times, a number of coincidences that would have been weird even for someone of her own House or year. Alya would honestly think that he was doing it on purpose, showing up everywhere, if it weren’t so very obvious that he wasn’t.

It wasn’t his fault that his DADA class was after hers. It wasn’t his fault that he was in the main hall that one time when they actually walked through it instead of using Floo flames to get to where they wanted. And it most definitely wasn’t his fault that the people who were already sitting at the Hufflepuff table before her group sat down for dinner just so happened to be Belaya’s friends.

Alya had never been so sure that Fate was to blame for something as she was in this instance. After all, once may just be a happenstance, and twice only a coincidence, but three times was a pattern.

And it was most definitely a pattern, because it continued.

On Wednesday morning, Fiole was crossing the Transfiguration Courtyard just as Alya stumbled out of the Floo flames, still half asleep and held up mostly by caffeine and Garreth’s arms around her shoulders. She pretended to be too sleepy to see the way he waved at her as he passed by, but sadly, that only worked for that one occasion.

When she ran into him a second time that day, once again at the mermaid fountain in front of the library, Fiole Belaya actually chose to stop her so that they could talk. Frankly, she wasn’t sure why he even bothered—personally, she was more than happy to ignore the fact that they were seeing each other everywhere these days. Alya didn’t want to talk to him, but he also hadn’t done anything to warrant ignoring him.

“You really are everywhere,” he called out with something akin to humour in his voice once she got close enough that he wouldn’t have to shout for the entire hall to hear, the tone making her metaphorical hackles rise. “It’s almost like fate.”

Fate. Right. Fuck this bloke, seriously—it was like he was somehow saying all the wrong words without having any idea what he was doing. Which, thinking about it, could actually be the case because this most definitely was all Fate’s fault. This was Fate in the most literal sense of the word.

At this point, she wasn’t even sure if this entire thing made her somewhat unreasonably angry or if it was just a terrible sense of discomfort that had her stomach in knots, unlike her boys. Garreth, Sebastian, and Ominis—gathered around her and pressed into her sides as if it would allow them to shield her from Belaya’s very existence—were most definitely angry and also very much aware of that fact. They were angry and, by the looks of it, also more than willing to act on those feelings as well. Something that would likely have been sweet if Fiole Belaya were indeed the problem here—as effective as the three might be against a student, there was little they could do against the real culprit: an omniscient, immortal entity.

Still, at least the way the three boys closed ranks around her had the smile on Fiole’s face freeze, enthusiasm dimming ever so slightly. Good.

“I’m sure it’s nothing nearly as dramatic,” Alya denied with the fakest of all possible smiles, trying her best to keep her voice gentle so that she wouldn’t come across as rude. There had been far too many somewhat hostile people in her environment lately, and while she didn’t exactly care, she also didn’t want to make things worse by being unreasonably rude to one of the school’s most beloved students. People like Yaxley and Reyes were one thing—they thought too highly of themselves, but no one actually cared all that much about them. Being rude to them was even something people might applaud her for. But Fiole Belaya was popular—not just for his character and looks, but also because albinos had a certain reputation. It was vexing, but Alya couldn’t afford to be rude, at least not unreasonably so.

When he only chuckled in response to her words, she used the opportunity to kick her friends back into gear, nudging the two closest boys into motion.

Somehow, by the grace of some high power that couldn’t possibly be Fate, she managed to get out of that situation with only five seconds of her life wasted. The meeting had ended relatively well, this time, because it was barely even a meeting at all—but it also caused all of them to be on the defensive.

“I don’t like this,” Garreth of all people mumbled as soon as they were out of earshot, sending a suspicious glance over his shoulder back at Belaya. “He’s right, he’s somehow everywhere we—you—go, and it’s not even because he’s stalking you.”

“Exactly,” Ominis agreed out loud, face pulled into a deep frown while both Alya and Sebastian nodded along. “I can’t even say that he must want something from you, because he doesn’t seem to be instigating these meetings. He’s just somehow always there. Just running into him randomly, six times in three days…”

“Hogwarts is a large school,” Sebastian murmured the words they were all thinking, starting a list of all the facts that they already knew but needed to hear right now. “There are over one thousand students, and he’s in a different year and a different House. We shouldn’t be running into him so often. Just, probability-wise, right? It’s weird.”

He received three mumbled agreements, all of them in definite consensus.

For a moment, silence descended upon the four of them as they made their way towards the History of Magic classroom. Neither Garreth nor Sebastian had anywhere else to be right now anyway, and Alya could and would never deny that she was glad about their presence right now. It was comforting. Safe. Not in the physical sense, specifically—not when Alya herself was the one who’d be in charge of defences should anyone attack them simply due to her superior reflexes compared to her mostly untrained friends—but safe in an emotional sense. 

Ron and Hermione might have always had her back physically, but they were also almost as emotionally incompetent as Alya was. Having someone guess at her emotional state—like some kind of sixth sense—and then act accordingly, was a welcome and novel experience. She loved the friends she had been forced to leave behind, but none of them were made to deal with emotions—neither their own nor anyone else’s. 

Unlike her new friends. Somehow, these people who had only known her for a few months could seemingly tell whenever her mood shifted ever so slightly—and every time it did, they were able to find the perfect answer, each of them somehow knowing exactly what she needed to hear to feel better.
Like right now, for example.

“You’re not going anywhere alone, not in the castle and not in Hogsmeade either,” Sebastian decided with a sense of finality—something that would have likely pissed her off under any other circumstances but now just made her feel incredibly relieved. She did not want to be alone the next time she met Belaya (or any time after). Just because he’d been perfectly friendly up until now didn’t mean he couldn’t still change, and just because their first encounter had been fine didn’t mean that any of the ones that followed would be okay either. 

Something felt off about that bloke in a way she couldn’t reasonably explain, and for once in her life, Alya was not eager to find out what it was.

“Thank you,” she mumbled instead, shifting ever so slightly to lean a bit more of her weight into Sebastian’s side—the closest they’d likely come to hugging while actively walking, at least while Alya was the one initiating the touch. As she had predicted (and hoped), though, Sebastian responded to her slight bump by raising his arm, ever so casually slinging it over her shoulder and pulling her in close. “It’s one thing during school hours, someone’s always with me, but he’s… everywhere.”

On her other side, Ominis hummed like he knew exactly what she was talking about (and knowing him, he probably did), moving a little closer, following after as Sebastian’s arms pulled her away from him. It was kind of cute, in a way—like he needed to know that she was still there.

“It’s a good thing that you aren’t leaving the castle as often anymore,” he stated, the tone caught somewhere between relief and teasing, neither one nor the other. “You just stay in the Room most of these days, and it’s not like he can follow you there.”

That was true—over the past month, the requests for her to do shit had drastically decreased. 

There were multiple reasons for that, from what Alya could tell.
For one, the students weren’t asking for her help as often as they used to. She wasn’t exactly sure what the reason was, truth be told—she would have assumed that the people who had stayed behind to celebrate Samhain at the school might have told everyone about the strange ghostly shapes that had appeared when she had done her part of the ritual, but everyone was reacting normally otherwise. If they were scared of her, she knew from experience, things would look vastly different. 

Her best guess was that they had either grown a conscience (unlikely) or were afraid of getting involved with all the bullshit that was currently happening in her life—Reyes, Yaxley, and Clopton being the prime examples of why life without any connection to her might be easier.

The requests from people around the Highlands, meanwhile, had come to an almost complete stop. She had a better guess for that, actually—no one wanted to be out and about in this weather, magic or not, and as such, there were both fewer poachers and Ashwinders fucking shit up, as well as just no people getting lost in questionable circumstances. In her books, that was a very welcome change.

These days, Alya only really needed to leave the castle for personal projects (either her own or her friends’), and her daily mail had also dwindled massively. Even the love letters had decreased in number, showing that the school idiots were indeed capable of learning and thinking.

“I hope the bloke has enough intelligence to back off without a fight,” Sebastian grumbled next to her, arm tightening its grip on her shoulder a little as Garreth hummed in agreement, his expression dark. “Detention won’t be so nice if we have to hex him as well.”

Alya tried her best not to feel too touched by the fact that all three boys were more than willing (and in fact already prepared) to throw hands for her.

She failed.

△

Wednesday night was the full moon that Poppy had been waiting for—the one that would likely reveal where they needed to go to find the Golden Snidgets they were looking for. She was a bit of a nervous wreck during dinner, fidgeting constantly and glancing at the watch like she was expecting the full moon to vanish any moment.

The rest of the group, hilariously enough, seemed to pick up on the nervous energy and imitate it. Frankly, Alya had no idea why—usually, whenever she was the one who was stressed or otherwise emotionally compromised, they always seemed solid as stone, picking up on her emotions and talking her through it.

Now, all six of them were practically vibrating with varying levels of restlessness.

Garreth seemed just as nervous as Poppy. Natty was staring into space, completely lost in her own thoughts, even as her knee bounced in place. Anne was fidgeting with her utensils, barely even eating, which was, of course, causing both Ominis and Sebastian to fuss over her. This was their favourite outlet for their own uncertain thoughts. Alya had come to understand that pattern quite well over the past few months.

It really was hilarious, because Alya, in comparison, was feeling as tranquil as the Black Lake itself. Completely and utterly calm, absolutely unbothered by what was to come.

Because, frankly, what was there to be worried about? 

It was just a full moon. Alya was weirdly superstitious about a lot of things that her new friends thought to be somewhat weird—she had been tense throughout the entirety of October, waiting for the other shoe to drop on Samhain at the latest, just as it had done every other Halloween during the past eight years of her life. She knew that shit was about to be weird now that Christmas—Yule, in this time—was just around the corner because something always happened during that holiday. And, of course, shit would most definitely go down in some rather deadly way once the school year came to an end because it always did.

Truth be told, it wasn’t so much superstition as it was simply a matter of experience, and she had a lot of that. It was that experience that had her scrunch her nose in disgust at the sight of politicians and the Daily Prophet, that had her squint suspiciously at every flask she saw, and that caused her to be rather wary of most Hufflepuffs.

Perhaps it was slightly ridiculous, but life had taught Helena to be wary of many things. Full moons, though, had never been a part of that—not even after she’d gotten attacked by a (very apologetic) werewolf.

If anything, a full moon was a good thing in her books. Quite a few things in magic were connected to the moon, and more often than not, the full moon had incredibly positive effects on her projects. Over the past few months of having the Room of Requirement set up as it was now, Alya had spent most of her full moon nights up and about, plastered with Pepper-Up potions to keep running as she flitted from brewing potion to potion, checking up on plant after plant, and creature after creature.

In a way, it was the most productive day of the month for her, and she really wasn’t so sure what her friends were so nervous about. She’d seen moonstones interact with the full moon before—one of her subordinates at the ICW had specialised in enchanting trinkets, and most of the squad had rather enjoyed watching him work on engraving runic arrays into jewels under the light of the full moon.

She really wasn’t nervous about this—at most, they’d somehow end up discovering some kind of hidden passageway, and given how long the birdies had already been extinct, Alya kind of doubted that they’d find anything living inside except for maybe spiders. Nothing that couldn’t be easily dispatched.

Honestly, she wasn’t even worried about the poachers. There had been no traces to indicate that they had been even close to discovering the beautiful cave where they had found the moonstone, so they most likely were even further away from discovering the place where they needed to go for the next step.

Especially since that place was, apparently, in the middle of bum fuck nowhere.

The henge where they were supposed to place the moonstone they had retrieved was not, as it turned out, in the area people called Hogwarts Valley. That… wasn’t exactly a problem in itself. Hogwarts Valley was generally what people called the area north and south of the castle, as well as surrounding the Black Lake—the Forbidden Forest, Hogsmeade, and the land around the river that led towards the coast.

It was a large area that was comparable to the entirety of modern London in its size, and Alya was pretty sure that most students never bothered to leave it (or even just the general vicinity of the castle itself beyond Hogwarts and maybe their own homes), but it was not forbidden to leave Hogwarts Valley. Obviously, otherwise, Alya and her friends would have been in a lot of trouble long before this day.

Feldcroft was its own region, after all, though it was quite a lot smaller than the valley, and so was Poidsear Coast, where Arawn Caisteal was situated. 

They were allowed to leave, and usually, the various Floos situated all over the Highlands made getting anywhere rather easy. Even people like Ominis (or Hermione and Neville) who weren’t overly fond of brooms could get wherever they wanted without trouble, and even relatively quickly.

The henge where they had to place the moonstone, though, wasn’t in what people usually called the Magical Highlands—the various areas from North Ford Bog all the way down to Feldcroft in the south and then to the easternmost tip of Cragcroftshire in Poidsear Coast. No, this stupid hedge was all the way up in the mountains west of the Forbidden Forest, almost fifteen minutes by broom even from the Floo flame at the western edge.

None of them were happy about that.

Ominis mostly because he hated flying, but the rest of them hated having to find their way in the pitch black darkness of the winter night, snow falling around them and obstructing their vision even further. Finding the hedge, they discovered, was an awful hassle, and the fact that Alya was in mild pain the entire time, even while layered in warming charms, did absolutely not help matters.

This entire trip, she decided as they finally touched down in the right area, was a terrible idea. Not because of anything actually terrible, but just because it simply sucked to be out and about in this weather.

Frankly, Alya wasn’t even sure if the full moon would do much. It was visible in the sky, certainly, but the night was still anything but clear.

“I think we can safely say we know where the moonstone goes,” Poppy tried to joke through subtly chattering teeth once they had all piled their brooms just outside the henge, a jerking motion of her head pointing towards the large stone in the middle of the old ritual site. 

Alya could feel it, all around them in the air—it was what had actually led them to this particular spot in the end. There was magic humming all around them in the air, old but not ancient, humming remnants of various rituals that hadn’t been performed in what had to be centuries, the henge showing clear signs of having been abandoned long ago.
The actual henge—that was, the large stone in the centre—didn’t look as old. Still weathered, yes, but not nearly in as bad a condition as the rest of the large boulders. 

This set-up had been created later, Alya surmised as she looked around. Someone had repurposed this place specifically to hide the Snidgets.

In silence, she continued to watch as Garreth took the large moonstone out of the bag slung over his shoulders, almost reverently holding it up as it shimmered in the light of the full moon before handing it over to Poppy, allowing her to finally place it exactly where it was meant to go—in the large hole carved somewhat off-centre into the boulder, the edges of it decorated with lines that were likely meant to represent the moon and it's light.

It only took a fraction of a second for the stone to react.
All at once, the large gem seemed almost to suck up the moonlight, the area growing noticeably darker even as the glow of the round jewel grew brighter and brighter until it almost looked like there was a second, much smaller moon right there between them, glowing so bright that it almost hurt to look at. And then, just as quickly, it was over again, the light dimming as it spread out, bleeding out of the moonstone and into the markings of the boulder, lighting up the lines Alya had noticed before as well as faint runes that had been invisible up until now.

She was so transfixed on the letters that she didn’t even notice that the light had also had a different effect until she heard a faint but familiar sound from behind her, her head snapping around just in time to watch at least a dozen pure white Mooncalves step out of the tree line, their fur glowing with the same light as the boulder in the centre of the henge.

“What is happening?” Ominis asked them in a barely audible whisper, sounding not exactly as if he was expecting an answer. He still pulled a face when Anne, of all people, shushed him, her eyes glued to the mooncalves as they jumped into motion as if guided by an invisible puppeteer.

They (or at least the ones of them that could see) watched transfixed as softly glowing mushrooms (Glimmerwood Willowcaps, a voice that sounded faintly like Neville’s offered somewhere in the back of her mind, sounding excited even as nothing more than a figment of her imagination, a species that has been extinct for four centuries now) sprang up beneath the small hooves of creatures, drawing lines across the ground beneath them.

“That was a mooncalf dance!” Poppy exclaimed in absolute awe once the cute animals had stopped their movements, gathering around their little group to softly coo at the still-glowing stone in the centre. “Do you know how rare it is to see even one? They’re supposed to be a myth! There’s been no reported sighting in centuries, even though all the books say that the Mooncalves dance for the light of the full moon!”

That… explained a lot, actually.

“I think there might have been a misunderstanding,” Alya breathed as she carefully reached out to pet one of the mooncalves, smiling when the animal leaned into her touch with another soft coo. “They didn’t dance for the full moon up in the sky; they danced for the moonstone glowing with the light of the full moon. Given its form and size, it certainly looks like a full moon, and that must have been lost over time. That’s why no one has seen one in ages and why these little mushrooms are believed to be extinct. If the calves grow them with their dance that hasn’t been seen in centuries, then it is only logical that no one has seen the Willowcaps either!”

“Mushrooms? There are mushrooms here?” Ominis, the poor bloke, repeated in utter confusion, just as Garreth (enthusiastically as ever) turned wide eyes towards her and exclaimed, “Wait, these are supposed to be extinct?! What’s their complete name? I’ve got to research them properly once we get back! What were they used for? We’ve got to collect as many of them as we can before we leave.”

“Glimmerwood Willowcaps,” Alya offered, just as enthusiastic at the thought of what working with these new-yet-old ingredients could mean—maybe she would even be able to find some old recipes that called for them in some of the old books in her possession—and what it could mean as a whole.

This was a huge discovery! Not just in terms of what it could mean for potioneers worldwide, but also because the seven of them were currently the only people in the world who knew how these mushrooms were grown. Granted, they weren’t yet sure if it was connected to this specific boulder or this specific location and if the mooncalves in question needed to be pure white, but these things could be investigated.

If everything went well, they would be able to monopolise the knowledge and, therefore, the Glimmerwood Willowcaps themselves. All sales would go through them, and while Alya herself didn’t need the money, the same couldn’t exactly be said for the rest of her friends.

This had the potential to be a huge opportunity for them—the possibilities might not be endless, but they were definitely vast as fuck, and—

“You can’t collect them,” Natty interrupted them, mild but amused, looking almost fondly exasperated when both redheads snapped around to look at her and protest. “Not yet, at least. Look at them—they’ve grown in some kind of pattern! I highly doubt that either the mushrooms or the mooncalves themselves have the answers to where the Snidgets are hidden, so it has to lie in the pattern here.”

Oh. Oh, yeah, that was why they were here.
Fuck, that was embarrassing.

“The books say that the pattern is part of the dance,” Poppy offered enthusiastically, oblivious to the embarrassed glances that Alya was exchanging with Garreth, before her expression dropped into a thoughtful frown. “Though they also say that no two patterns are the same. We should definitely draw a sketch of this one, though I can’t fathom how exactly it will help us.”

“I’m sure Dorran will know,” Anne offered the best comfort she could while Sebastian obediently pulled a loose roll of parchment from his robes (she really needed to introduce her friends—and maybe the wizarding world as a whole—to the concept of notebooks), quickly ducking down to transfigure one of the small stones on the ground into a piece of coal that could be used to sketch the mushroom pattern.

Alya wasn’t really paying attention to any of that, though; her focus was still on the Glimmerwood Willowcaps’ general existence and the question of how to grow them.

Coming to this henge every full moon would be a hassle. Of course, now that she knew where the place was, she could just Apparate to it in a matter of seconds, but it was still not ideal. This area was in the middle of nowhere, and it was unlikely that people would ever find it, so at the very least, she would likely not have to worry about ever being attacked while she was here.

That didn’t mean that she wanted to spend every full moon night in the future out here collecting mushrooms. Sure, magic made the entire thing easier than it would be for a Muggle, but easier didn’t mean easy. 

No, easy would be replicating this entire thing in her Vivarium.

It would likely not even be as complicated as she feared. The Room of Requirement should be able to recreate a perfect copy of this henge in the Vivarium, and even though it likely wouldn’t be able to reproduce the invisible runes, she should be able to reproduce them. Granted, she wasn’t exactly sure what had been used to write the runes, but she could test her way through different options should her first choice (a paste made from the very mushrooms beneath her feet) not work out. 

She could create an identical set-up, she was certain. Once that was done, she could command the Room to make a full moon rise at night, and hopefully, the large herd of mooncalves that was living in her Vivarium would respond by dancing and growing another batch of mushrooms. She was pretty sure that she had some of these completely white mooncalves back in her own herd as well, so even if not all of them would dance, those most likely would. As long as the stone would work…

It would probably be the best decision to take these mooncalves back to the Vivarium, wouldn’t it? With the same moonstone, a full moon, and the same herd, her variables would mostly boil down to whether or not the boulder would work, and if it didn’t, she could still try to bring the one out here to her Vivarium—though she would prefer to leave this area untouched if possible.

Yes, she decided just as Sebastian finished his drawing, she would take along these twelve little sweethearts. They would be safer with her anyway—there were poachers everywhere, so who knew if these little ones would even still be around in a month or two?

Exchanging another glance with Garreth (and completely ignoring how Sebastian, Poppy, and Anne were discussing the drawing and how it looked somewhat like a bird), they both got to work.

△

Thursday morning started great because they didn’t go to the Great Hall for breakfast. It was a little sad that she needed to point that out specifically, but these past few days, every meal eaten in the Great Hall had inadvertently ended up with Fiole Belaya being far too close to her, looking at her for far too long, and not being subjected to that was amazing all on its own. She had never been so happy to eat breakfast in the Room of Requirement before, and Alya was only a little embarrassed about the fact that all her friends had noticed.

The six of them, she realised somewhat absentmindedly, were starting to become rather protective of her. And frankly, she wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that.

Not while they were still eating breakfast, at least. 

While they were eating breakfast, Alya couldn’t help but feel weird about the idea that her friends—all of them together far weaker than her—were protective of her. That they thought she needed their protection. 

She would love to say that she hadn’t needed someone else’s protection in years, that she had been the one protecting other people instead, but that was only half the truth. Protecting people may have been something that she had been trying (and mostly succeeding) to do for the last few years, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t needed anyone to protect her as well. There just simply hadn’t been anyone there to protect her—not just because there wasn’t anyone, but because those that were there had simply been incapable of doing so. The only ones who had ever been in a position to protect her were Ron and Hermione, and they had protected each other. They always had, it was what made them equals in their little trio.

She didn’t have that kind of relationship with these six, not yet. Whenever Alya thought of someone needing protection, it was a physical thing, and none of her friends were at the level necessary to protect her back from attacks just yet. By all rights, everything in her told her, her new friends shouldn’t be able to protect her at all.

After breakfast, though, the idea stopped being weird, because they (as in Alya, Natty, Sebastian, and Garreth) left the Room of Requirement to head to Potions and ran into motherfucking Fiole Belaya just in front of the Charms classroom. Because of course they did.

“Good morning,” Fiole greeted her—and probably very specifically just her because she was the only one he was looking at—but that was as far as he got before Garreth started talking over him.

“Oh, I just thought of something,” he exclaimed almost a little too loudly, the rest of his acting absolutely on point—facial expressions and general movements all indicating that he had indeed just got an idea that needed immediate sharing. “Do you have some of the mushrooms we found yesterday on hand? I think Professor Sharp would love to see them; he might actually know more about them. I mean, Professor Garlick would likely know more about it since it’s a plant and all, but it’s not like we’re interested in cultivating them ourselves; we just want to know if they’re useful for brewing potions.”

Belaya didn’t stand a chance to get another word in—by the time Garreth had stopped talking long enough to take a breath and let Alya answer, they were already halfway down the stairs, too far away for him to say anything to them without shouting after them. Knowing that they were still most definitely both in view and in earshot, she happily played along.

“That’s not a bad idea.” She nodded, only slightly less enthusiastic since she actually meant the words. “Professor Sharp probably knows a lot about potions we’ve never even heard of, and I don’t think he’d spread word that we have these mushrooms. If we’re lucky, he can help us write a paper on their properties and uses, and if we get that done during the school year, it might even impact our O.W.L. scores! Both for Potions and for Herbology!”

“You think that’s possible?” He asked, his voice a little quieter now that they were halfway down the next flight of stairs, definitely out of earshot of her not-quite-stalker, sounding both doubtful and hopeful at the same time. “Students aren’t generally allowed to publish papers.”

“That’s why Sharp will be useful,” she pointed out. “He’s not the kind of man to take credit for other people’s achievements, and besides that, it’ll become very obvious that this is our research once people realise that we are the only people who can get their hands on these mushrooms.”

“You don’t intend to share that discovery?” Sebastian cut in before they could dive further into the technicalities of their newest plan. 

“Not if we can monopolise it,” was her immediate counter. “We don’t know their uses yet, obviously, but if they end up being useful for potions, or even just somewhat tasty, then selling them could net us a lot of money. As the only supplier, we could set the price to whatever we want, and depending on just how useful they are, people would have no choice but to buy them anyway.”

“I think that’s a conversation we can save for when we actually know more about those mushrooms,” Natty offered almost diplomatically when the boys only stared in stunned silence, grinning a little as she eyed their visible disbelief with amusement. “Or for the next time we stumble across Belaya. For now, let’s agree to stop walking everywhere, even if we need to stretch our legs and walk off a meal. We should just go from Floo to Floo, and all meals should be in the Room—not the Great Hall, not the kitchens. I think we underestimated just how often the bloke pops up.”

“Sounds good to me,” Alya agreed immediately, glancing warily at the ceiling above them as if she could look right through and at the creep. “At least the buddy system is working.”

“Don’t worry,” Sebastian told her, finally shaking off his shock at the prospect of how much money they might or might not be able to make in the future, “we’ll get him to back off sooner or later.”

Yeah. The question was, just how long would that take?

△

As predicted, Professor Sharp was absolutely ecstatic about the small glowing mushroom that Alya pulled from her pocket at the end of the lesson. Alya, Natty, Garreth, and Sebastian all stayed behind as their teacher shooed the rest of the class out of the room, dissolving into something she would have called ‘excited babbling’ if it had been anyone except Aesop Sharp or if every third thing out of his mouth had been something that wasn’t a breathy ‘remarkable’. 

As it was, they simply watched with not-so-slight trepidation as he flitted into his office and returned with arms full of old tomes, the leather bindings of the books already falling apart at the seams, and the pages yellowed and worn with age. Watched as he leafed through the pages, careful but hectic in his excitement, holding the small mushroom up against various drawings for comparison until he finally found what he was looking for. 

“Glimmerwood Willowcaps,” he finally breathed out exactly the name she was expecting to hear when he landed on the right page, absolute wonder on his face. “Miss Peverell, Mister Weasley, where did you find this?”

Garreth, fidgeting under the wide-eyed stare of their teacher, opened his mouth to answer, despite everything she had said before class had started, so Alya interrupted before he could blab.

“Trade secret, I’m afraid,” she bulldozed over anything the boy might be trying to say, her voice cold in a way that had a bit of that childish wonderment fade from the ex-Auror’s face (something that made her almost feel a little sorry for him—everyone deserved a delight every now and then), his usual gruff seriousness taking over again.

“Of course,” he said, stone-cold sober once more, also exactly as she had expected, clearing his throat as he straightened and tried his very best to slip back into his professional persona. “Apologies. I assume you are at least tangentially aware of just what this discovery entails?”

“Only somewhat,” Garreth admitted a bit sheepishly. “We know that this mushroom is considered extinct, and that’s about it so far. We thought it might be faster and safer to just ask you what you know instead of searching through books ourselves or even just experimenting.”

“I’m glad you came to me first,” their teacher told them both with a sigh that practically translated to a very tired ‘teenagers’, one hand coming up to rub at the bridge of his nose. “Historically, there are many known uses for Glimmerwood Willowcaps, mostly in various healing potions and fertility concoctions. Boiled, fried, juiced, roasted, chopped, steamed, diced, stewed, dried—it’s supposedly one of the most versatile ingredients ever used. Their loss set back the world of potion brewing by multiple centuries. If it can be proved that these are indeed Glimmerwood Willowcaps and a steady supply can be brought into rotation, it could very well be the discovery of the century.”

She could hear it—all the things Aesop Sharp wasn’t saying, meaning layered beneath each syllable, unsaid words dancing in his eyes.

There was a silent deal there. A question. A desperate demand. A subtle begging.

Aesop Sharp wanted nothing more than to be a part of this. He wanted to do the research himself—to try out every single one of the preparation methods he had just listed, to brew these ancient potions with his own hands, to watch as every word of that report got written. He was salivating at the mouth to join them, and he was perfectly aware that this matter was entirely in the hands of the supplier. Their hands.

“It will be,” Alya agreed, fully convinced and completely confident in her words. “And I’m sure we will be able to come to an agreement that will leave all of us satisfied.”

The grin on the Professor’s face was probably the closest thing to feral he’d ever been.

△

For a day or so, Alya was sure that this was the second thing she had initially hoped to be wrong about. That creeping feeling of something big coming.

For a day or so, Alya revels both in the fact that she had been right, that something big had indeed come for her once more, and in the big thing itself. The find of the century. A research project that would put her and Garreth’s names out there by the end of the school year, that would get her guaranteed and easy O’s for the rest of her time at Hogwarts if everything went well, and even the possibility of a flourishing business following in the wake of their paper being published. It was big—not in the way she was generally used to, with no life-threatening danger involved, but it was important. Impactful. Incredible, even.

So, for at least a little while, she allows herself to bask in what feels like a victory.

In a way, it’s almost too good to be true.
Almost by complete accident, she had managed to stumble her way into a situation that allowed her early access to a community that none of her political power would be able to grant her access to. Maybe the old books taken from the Keepers could have helped her get a foot in the door in the future (provided that she’d actually find the time to read and translate the things first), but up until Wednesday night, Alya had assumed that her only way into the world of all things potions would be to sell all (or at least most) of the advancements made in the field over the past century as her own.
It hadn’t sat well with her and likely never would (though minor advances such as stirring techniques were definitely an exception—people needed to know about those, the sooner, the better), but she needed that in.

Alya’s expertise lay in spells and combat. That was what she was good at. She was talented, and she was powerful, and she was relatively certain that she would be able to defeat anything the magical world might throw at her (or anyone else) in the next century.
But she was under no illusion that, once the fighting was over and done, she’d become all but useless, nothing at all for her left to do. It didn’t matter just how many new spells she knew and how many people she’d manage to teach them to—combat spells would never be the future of the wizarding world.

The future, and she had absolutely no doubt about that, hinged on the progress made in Potions and Herbology, in Runes and Arithmancy. 

Health and technology—or at least the magical equivalent of it. That was what was important if she wanted to make a difference. Saving lives was one thing, but she needed to do more than that.

So, yes, Alya had almost giddily assumed that the big thing she had anticipated was this discovery, this deal. A perfectly logical assumption, and one that made it absolutely impossible for her (or Garreth) to stop grinning for the entire remainder of the day. Granted, at least half of her good mood stems from the fact that she did manage to avoid another meeting with Fiole Belaya.

Frankly, that part was almost more exciting than the deal they had struck with Professor Sharp.

Potions, Divination, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Astronomy—all classes of the day went by, as did lunch and dinner, and there was not a single white hair in sight; her creepy not-quite-stalker was finally absent. Maybe that was exactly what had her go complacent: this joy. What had made her stupidly forget that, so far, every single time she had felt like something big was coming, said big thing had turned out to be a big problem. Every single time. Usually, and she should really know that by now, these big things tended to happen in waves—like a landslide, they would start with only a few small rocks before the actual flood hit, completely overwhelming her and leaving her to fear for her life.

She should have known that this deal wasn’t what her gut had warned her of. Nothing positive ever was, and most definitely nothing as obvious as this.

It was stupid of her, but at least it didn’t last long—neither the assumption that her Belaya curse had been broken nor the idea that the big thing was actually something positive this time. The very next day showed her the errors of her way. 

Transfiguration class had just ended, and Alya was deep in a conversation with Garreth about the meeting with Professor Sharp that they had planned for this evening as they headed through the courtyard and back towards the Floo when, of course, they stumbled over the devil himself. 

“Alya!” Fiole Belaya called out from where he was once again sitting around the fountain with some friends of his, his tone far too familiar and far too happy. “How nice to see you again. Say, do you have a moment?”

No. That was all she wanted to say in answer. Scream, really. She wanted to climb to the top of the castle’s highest tower and yell it out for the entire world to hear, screaming from the top of her lungs that no, she didn’t have a moment to spare for Fiole Belaya. That she didn’t want to talk to him. That she could think of only very few things she’d enjoy even less than being forced into another conversation with this singular boy.
Saying no would be so easy.
As long as she didn’t actually end up screaming or yelling at him, saying no would be perfectly acceptable. He had asked if she had a moment to spare, after all, and that was an easy enough request to refuse. She could simply tell him that she had plans. That she didn’t have the time to spare to talk to him. It wouldn’t even be rude; it would just be quick. Easy.

But this was also an opportunity, no matter how much she hated it. 

Over the past few days, Fiole Belaya had only ever attempted to greet her. He had smiled in passing, waved from a distance, and wished her a good day. On Wednesday, he had tried to start a conversation with her, but still, that was different. That had only been small talk—an attempt to garner goodwill, to make them seem closer than they truly were, a way to build a connection. Asking for her time meant that he had something he wanted to discuss with her, though. 

It meant that he was finally dropping every (or at least most) pretence and telling her exactly what it was that he wanted from her.

And if he finally told her what he wanted from her, she would also finally be able to tell him no.

“If you make it quick enough,” Alya decided to answer, somewhere between joking and genuinely annoyed, sending Garreth a reassuring glance when his face pulled into a worried frown at the words, his form tense, his eyes clearly confused. Oh, how she wished she could explain what she was doing. Avoiding Belaya had been all they’d been talking about for days, and yet here she was, inviting the bloke to have a conversation, and poor Garreth had no idea why.

Belaya himself, meanwhile, beamed like the bloody sun, something like relief lighting up his features as he stood from his seat, one of the other boys with him clapping him on the back as if he had just achieved something tremendous. 

She didn’t like it. 

No, quite frankly, it made her skin crawl in the worst of all ways, the feeling of being just another trophy to win both very familiar and very unwelcome.
Merlin, how she hated being objectified.
Maybe that was why she felt weirdly vindictive when the albino stopped before her, chancing a slightly awkward glance at Garreth by her side—a look that said more than a thousand words, all of them being a variation of ‘go away’. Why she felt vindictive when Garreth simply raised his head, met Belaya’s eyes, and refused to move so much as a bloody inch.

If she had to be uncomfortable with this whole situation, then so the fuck did he.

Silence stretched between them—one second, two, a third and a fourth, followed by so many more that it became terribly awkward. Garreth continued to stand there and stare, the expression on his face turning more and more smug with every passing second, self-satisfied like the cat that got both the cream and the canary—right up until Belaya gave up and heaved a half-suppressed sigh of defeat.

It felt like a victory. As did the red burning on his ears, the way he was uncomfortably rubbing at his neck. His embarrassment felt more like a trophy than the two Orders of Merlin she had back home, silly as it was.

“So, uh,” Fiole Belaya started before stopping again, hesitating, breaking the eye contact he had struggled so hard to establish in the first place, “I had hoped to talk to you about this in private.” He paused again, the silence pointed and purposeful—and entirely ignored by both of them. Belaya cleared his throat. “I—I know it must have probably sounded like nothing but a joke to you, but I really can’t help but consider the sheer number of times we’ve met over the past few days as a sign of fate.”

Fuck, she wanted to interrupt him so badly. Wanted to tell him to take that idea and shove it so far up his arse that it would come back out his throat, so fitting for the bullshit he was spewing. Especially since he was most definitely right—this was absolutely and without a single doubt Fate’s fault. Didn’t mean that was a positive thing, though.

She wanted him to shut up and go away. But sadly, he first needed to finish what he had to say. Not that it was much of a mystery anymore, the question of just what exactly he wanted to say to her—she’d been in this exact situation far too often already not to recognise what this was.

It would be a lie to say Alya wasn’t at least a little bit disappointed, though.
Despite everything, she had kind of hoped that Belaya would prove himself to be different from the dozen other creeps who had seen her maybe two or three times (if even that) in their entire lives and decided to ask her out. Somehow, for whatever reason, she had at least expected some originality from this one. Maybe because he had actually managed to refrain from doing… this for the first half a dozen meetings they had. That was more self-restraint than just about everyone else who had ever tried had shown, so somewhere in the back of her mind, she had kind of just… hoped.

Alya would never become friends with him (never mind more than that), not with how creepy the frequency of their meetings was, but she couldn’t deny that friendliness without any kind of ulterior motive would have been a nice change of pace.

It was not a secret that she was paranoid, not by any means, and in a peaceful environment like the Hogwarts of 1890, that was a flaw. Not a problem per se, but simply something that was more of a hindrance to her than anything else. There were no dangerous people lurking around the shadows, trying to catch her unaware so that they could take out the saviour of the wizarding world—just children with their petty fights and meaningless squabbles. Or at least it should have been. Hogwarts should have been peaceful enough for her to finally learn how to let go of her paranoia, but instead, there were just more people who wanted to use her and fewer friends whom she knew for a fact she could trust.

It made her want to hex Fiole Belaya (and his friends, for good measure) to high heaven.

“So,” he started once again, still not looking her directly in the eyes (he was staring at her nose), one hand moving to awkwardly tug at one of his earlobes until it turned even redder under his grip, “I, uh, I thought it would be nice if we could maybe plan one of these run-ins for once.”

She’d rather die. And she wanted to open her mouth and tell him a slightly nicer version of that, but he was babbling now, pale pink blush spreading from his ears and all the way over to his face, his neck, and down past the collar of his shirt. 

“Uh, multiple ones, if you would find yourself agreeable. Oh, uh, don’t get me wrong, I do not want to presume anything, but… I would like to have the honour of accompanying the lady to this year’s Yule Ball, but I have to confess that I’m a rather impatient person. I would prefer not to wait two weeks to be given the pleasure of indulging in your company—”

Belaya continued talking, but Alya wasn’t listening anymore; his words were only a background noise, barely registering as if through a thick layer of wool. 

Yule Ball, that was what her mind was stuck on, repeating over and over again like some kind of broken record. Accompanying her to the Yule Ball. In two weeks. Fucking hell, she hadn’t even heard of there being a Yule Ball up until now, but what was almost worse—she couldn’t even be surprised.
It should have been obvious. She should have known. During her fourth year, they had held a Yule Ball only because it was a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament to do so, but in these times, people actually still celebrated the holiday itself. Of course, they’d also hold the ball.

Fucking hell, a ball. Again.

The last one had been horrible. Helena had been at the centre of attention in the most uncomfortable way that entire year, but the ball itself had been a special kind of hell. The entire thing had been humiliating and uncomfortable, a new low of a new kind at the time.

Somehow, Alya feared that this time, it would be even worse, but in an entirely different situation. This time, she wasn’t the school pariah, hated by just about everyone, but instead the young noble lady that everyone’s been trying to ask out since the year had started. That Belaya was here, talking about taking her to this Yule Ball before she had even received an invitation to the thing, only proved that.

Oh Merlin, she was about to be harassed by wannabe suitors again, wasn’t she? 

“—what do you say?” Belaya ended his nervous speech, the sudden lingering silence bringing her back down to Earth, blinking rapidly to centre herself. 

“No,” she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind, then cleared her own throat in mild embarrassment. As much as she disliked both the boy and the situation, she could have worded that a little more elegantly. Especially since Garreth next to her had snorted hard at her answer and was currently doing a rather poor job of suppressing his laughter. “I mean, I’m flattered you asked, but I am not interested. My apologies.”

And then, fearless and brave soldier that she was, Alya took Garreth’s wrist to tug him along and booked it the fuck out of there, her friend’s laughter trailing after them as they raced to the Floo.

△

“He asked you to the ball?!” Natty repeated what she had just told her, Poppy, Anne, and Ominis, her voice tinted by absolute disbelief. She probably looked rather disbelieving as well, but it was rather hard for Alya to tell since she had her face buried into her arms, groaning into the tabletop to let her misery be known.

“That’s bold,” Ominis said in a voice that almost sounded grudgingly impressed. “And smart—asking before the invitations are even sent out, before anyone else could ask. Damn.”

“I wasn’t even aware that there is a ball!” Alya complained, turning her head just enough for her friends to be able to hear her. “Why is there a bloody ball of all things?! I don’t want to go to a ball!”

“Most of us invited don’t want to go.” Garreth shrugged, still sounding far too amused for her liking. “Not everyone can afford fancy gowns, so generally only the children of rich pureblood and half-blood families end up being invited. It’s stuffy and formal, and it sucks, but if you get invited, you basically have to attend. That’s just how it is.”

“I’ve never been invited,” Poppy declared, far too happily for the words she was saying. “Which is great, because the rest of us who aren’t invited have an end-of-the-year party in the dungeons while the ball is going on. It’s awesome.”

“Why are we talking about the parties?” Sebastian wanted to know as he joined them at the table, brushing some dirt off his robes from his Floo travel. “And why does Alya look like she’s regretting all her life choices again?”

At least three people started talking at once in answer. Garreth, predictably, started laughing again, the absolute dick.

Alya, still buried in her own arms and mountains of regret, had the vague feeling that this was going to be the longest lunch break of her life.

△

It took quite a while for things to settle and for Alya to get her answers—mostly because Sebastian was anything but happy to hear that Fiole Belaya had once again declared their interactions to be fate and had asked her to accompany him to the Yule Ball. It was an anger she could get behind, truly, and she likely would be just as pissed if the matter of a Yule Ball existing at all hadn’t distracted her so thoroughly. 

As popular as Belaya seemed to be, he really couldn’t be overly smart if he thought that asking out (or even just contacting) a girl who was clearly uncomfortable with his very presence was a good choice. Bloody moron.

Luckily, once everyone had calmed down (including the still far-too-amused Garreth), Anne and Ominis actually worked together to explain the whole ball thing in a bit more detail.

As Garreth had already mentioned, not everyone could afford to attend a fancy ball simply because various costs came along with it; mainly, the procurement of the actual ball gown, the shoes, and the jewellery was too expensive for most families, more so for those with daughters instead of sons. Hogwarts, as the best magical school in the country, had a lot of students who came from rich families, but even then, not all were generally invited. No, according to Ominis, who was and who wasn’t invited was entirely dependent on the current headmaster of the school.

Under the last Headmistress, Professor Eupraxia Mole, a wide variety of students had been invited. Pureblood nobles, the children of successful half-blood families, and even the sons and daughters of wealthy Muggles. Everyone who had the monetary means had been included, as well as the top students of each year. Headmistress Mole had even paid for the gowns of the students who couldn’t afford them, calling them a reward for their good grades. 

Under Professor Black, the number of students who received an invitation had shrunken significantly. Muggleborns were no longer invited at all, and even half-bloods with one Muggle parent only got one if the wixen parent was in a significant political position. Now, all that had remained of the once rather enjoyable event was just another networking opportunity.

It wasn’t all that surprising, given that they were talking about Phineas Nigellus Black.

Fiole Belaya, Alya had also been informed, had been invited every year since the Arse had taken over as headmaster. Not because of familial connections, of course, but because his status as an albino and the legends surrounding that particularity promised him a rather successful career in the future. While it had been rather rude of him to invite her to the ball without even having an invitation (as Sebastian liked to remind all of them at any given opportunity), it wasn’t strange of him to assume that he would be invited once more. That they both would.

The invitations were traditionally sent out on the first day of December, so they would only know for sure next Monday, but Alya had little doubt. She was a Peverell, after all—the Peverell. The only one left and the first one in centuries. There was no way she wasn’t about to receive an invitation.

Which was actually quite sad, because the other party, the one that Poppy had mentioned, sounded far more amusing than the posturing that was about to happen in the Great Hall.
Where the one upstairs was a stuffy event made by adults for adult-like-teens, the one downstairs was made by teens for teens, and it was very noticeable. According to a very enthusiastic Anne, it was a night (yes, an entire night) full of too loud music, a variety of illegal substances of questionable origins, no rules, no supervision, and far too much alcohol.

It sounded like one of the twins’ Quidditch parties, just on an almost incomparable scale, and Alya didn’t even have an invitation yet, but she was already regretting the fact that she would be forced to attend the stuffy black-tie event.

The only consolation was the fact that the ball actually ended late in the evening, so generally every teen in attendance would then make their way down to the dungeons anyway.

Alya… wasn’t quite sure how to feel about the event.

Everything about the entire thing was screaming at her that this was going to suck.
For the next two weeks, she would likely be subjected to everyone and their mother trying to land a date with her, while also handling her least favourite thing to do—shopping for dresses. And once all of that was finally, finally over, she’d be forced to spend an entire evening rubbing arms with all the people she’d usually avoid, forced to smile and answer politely while people crowded around her.

That was one side of the story.
On the other hand, she could also still remember her first and only Yule Ball. As awful as the event itself had been, Helena had enjoyed one thing about it, and that had been the time spent with her friends.

Shopping for dresses hadn’t been enjoyable—she hated trying on dress after dress after dress, walking in and out of changing rooms to model them, feeling like a damned dress-up doll. She hadn’t enjoyed that part, and she likely never would. But she had enjoyed the time spent discussing colours and cuts with Hermione. She had enjoyed the hours spent in her dorm room, right before the ball itself, while Lavender, the Patil twins, and Hermione got ready with all of them flitting around, talking excitedly as they helped each other into their gowns, fixed makeup, and styled hair. That part had been enjoyable. As had been every minute and every second she’d been able to spend with her friends at the ball, once they’d managed to get away from the official bullshit.

It wouldn’t be the same, of course. Even in her fourth year, as the pariah of the school, she had a lot of friends in Gryffindor. Back then, she had danced with the girls on her Quidditch team, the twins and Lee, the boys in her grade—she’d even danced with Victor at some point. She’d never been alone, and so no one had approached her to be a dick.

In this time… Alya herself was guaranteed to receive an invitation, as was Ominis. Garreth and Natty would likely receive invitations, more because they had family among the staff than because of their family names. The four of them would have to attend—but Anne, Sebastian, and Poppy were not.

Last year (because just like her own Yule Ball during the Tournament, the students attending had to be fourth year and above), Ominis had taken Anne along as his date and Sebastian had apparently agreed to a date with the first girl who had asked him, only to ditch the girl within five seconds and then spend the rest of the evening hanging out with his twin and their best friend. This year, Alya feared that even though no one had really brought it up just yet, things would likely be more complicated.

Luckily, before they could do any kind of deep dive into anyone’s dating history (Alya so did not need that kind of conversation again), lunch break ended. She wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to come back to this topic either.

△

That was the first pebble, not that Alya knew that just yet. The first small stone that had broken off, barely more than a slight disturbance on its own, not even worth mentioning in the grand scheme of things. It was nothing but a small pebble, and that was fine. One small pebble was not a problem.

The problem would be everything that would follow—the landslide that she couldn’t see just yet, the one that would inevitably hit.

Once everything would hit her all at once, Alya was sure she’d start missing the stupid pebbles. Or at least she would be if she had any idea that they were coming.

△

“Alright, everyone,” Professor Ronan called out about halfway through their Charms class after lunch, waiting for all of them to settle down and fall silent before he continued speaking. “As I am sure you are all aware, there are only two more weeks left until Yule break, making the halfway point of the school year. Unlike in previous years, this means that once you are all back from the holidays, we will begin revision for your O.W.L.s instead of learning something new.”

He stopped his speech there for a moment—not to be dramatic, Alya was sure, but to allow the students to quiet back down from the excited chatter and the nervous mumbles they’d broken into. An understandable reaction. They had all been warned at the beginning of the school year that this semester would be more taxing than any of the years before that, but they hadn’t seen the full extent of it just yet.

This was an important reminder for all of them. But it was also strange that it was announced now, and not in two weeks, when the holidays would begin. No, Alya was sure, there was something else there.

“As tradition dictates,” Professor Ronan started again, the particular wording immediately catching her attention—because as far as she was aware, there was no tradition that should be coming into play here, “we, your teachers, will be giving you all one last fun project before the grueling repetitions begin.”

He had to stop for a second time here as new whispers swept across the room, much more excited than the first wave. Alya couldn’t blame them for it—honestly, she was just as excited. Projects were a rarity, due to how practical and hands-on most of the subjects in the magical world were, but the few she’s been assigned so far had always been incredibly interesting.
And, just as the Professor had stated, it would indeed be a welcome last reprieve from the repetitions that were soon to begin.

“Now,” their teacher continued, a little louder when the murmurs didn’t settle down immediately, the smile on his face telling her that he didn’t actually mind, “every single one of your Professors has a different project in mind, and I am sure that they will be more than happy to explain their own expectations in your next lessons with them, but I’ve always had a preference for partner projects myself.”

The reaction was immediate—students turning towards each other, eyes meeting in excitement, silent promises being made in the span of just a second or two. Alya was no exception, gaze firmly fixed on Natty next to her, the grin on her face so wide that it almost hurt.

“Ah! Don’t get too excited now!” Professor Ronan chastised them before more than that could happen, grins falling off faces en masse at the words. “I know how much you would all love to work on this project with a friend, but your partners have already been decided at random.” 

Protests rose through the room, but the man didn’t blink or stop; he just raised his voice and continued talking, completely unperturbed. 

“Part of this project’s grading will be the cooperation with your partner.” He explained patiently, smiling like he knew exactly how much they hated what he was saying right now. “The main focus, though, will be an essay of at least two rolls of parchment about a charm of your choice—its origin, its effect, its incantation, and how it works. Now, please stay quiet and seated while I read out the list of partners.”

If Alya didn’t know that it would only make Fate laugh at her, she would have probably started praying right then and there. Helplessly, she glanced at Natty as Professor Ronan read out the first pair of names. Her eyes met Garreth’s and Poppy’s next, right across from her, and then Sebastian’s further down the line.

Then she did the next best thing to praying.
Mentally and completely silent, she started cursing Fate.

△

Blankly, Alya stared at the partner that had been assigned to her.

Looking just as unsure as she felt, Alexandra Malfoy stared back.

△

By default of her profession, her general life experiences, the fact that she had two more years of schooling than everyone else in the room, and her own tenure as a teacher, Alya knew a lot of spells. Transfigurations, charms, hexes, jinxes, curses, counter spells, and even healing magic—she had dabbled in all of it before, in some more than in others, and she had done quite a bit of research on all of them with Hermione by her side.

Especially on charms.

A Charm, by definition of the Standard Book of Spells Grade 1, is a spell that differs from Transfiguring Spells in that a charm adds certain properties to an object or creature, whereas a Transfiguring Spell will change it into something utterly different.
That was the official definition. Wingardium Leviosa was considered a charm because it added the property of weightlessness to an object. Lumos was a charm because it added light to the tip of the caster’s wand.

Personally, Alya had always thought that the definition for charms was incredibly loose and even somewhat misleading because there were charms that didn’t actually add anything. Not really.

The Expelliarmus was also considered a charm, after all.

After all the time spent researching them, Helena had decided that classifications, maybe, weren’t really all that important for someone who was overall just making sure that people could defend themselves. For her own sanity. Despite that decision, though, Alya was pretty sure that she was the person in class (aside from Professor Ronan himself, of course) who had the most knowledge on charms.

It made choosing a spell for this assignment both a lot harder and a lot easier.

In this assignment, both Alex (as the Malfoy girl had asked to be called—which was a much better start to a relationship than the ones she’s had with every other Malfoy she had ever met) and she had agreed, their final grade would undoubtedly be influenced the most by what charm they would end up choosing.

Any spell from the first four years of their schooling would be too easy. Their teacher had already spoken about the spells at length in class, and they’ve had years to get familiar with how they worked, so more or less half of the actual work was already done. They had little doubt that choosing the easy option would only make them lose points in the end. 

In contrast, both girls were sure, choosing one of the spells they’d only learned in the past months of their fifth year would likely be exactly what Professor Ronan wanted the students to do. He had already mentioned that it didn’t matter whether or not multiple groups chose the same spell to research, so Alya was certain that this project was, in part, actually about their work ethics.
The lazy ones would choose the spells learned over the past years, the easy out. The dutiful ones would end up with the Colour-Changing Charm or the Silencing Charm or any of the other that had been introduced over the past three months—an early start to the revisions that were awaiting them.

 But people like her—like them, like Sebastian, like the rest of her friends once their competitive natures were activated—who look back on what they already had discussed and decided to then look forward at what was to come instead… they both agreed that this was the best way to earn a good grade.

Discovering the undiscovered territory. Or, well, the territory that her classmates had yet to discover, but that Alya herself was already incredibly familiar with.

That was the easy part about finding a good spell to research, she decided as she scribbled charm after charm onto a piece of parchment, listing the rare and complex ones that even most of the seventh years had likely never heard of. She knew so many of them already, knew how they worked.

The problem was to make an actual decision on which one they should choose.

There were simply far too many good options. The Protean Charm was N.E.W.T. level and rather complicated, as Alya knew from experience. It had taken her and Hermione almost two weeks to figure out how to enchant those Galleons. The Portus Charm was even harder, even rarer, since it was a charm that was strictly speaking only meant for employees of the Ministry—which, frankly, was actually a reason not to use it. 

A part of her wanted to suggest Legilimens or Piertotum Locomotor, two spells that weren’t even a part of Hogwarts curriculum, but it likely wouldn’t be a good idea to tell a group of impulsive teenagers about spells like that. It had been one thing in her own war-torn time, where even the youngest member of the DA knew about the risks thanks to her extensive lectures, but in this time…

Alya didn’t want to imagine what the likes of Clopton would do with spells to read other people’s minds, or charms to animate every single suit of armour and statue in the castle.

Just like she didn’t exactly want them to know about the Fidelius just to accidentally ward off something they needed, while then being unable to ever reach it again due to various dumb reasons.

Some spells, she had to agree with her teachers and the people who created the curriculum, were better off not being in the hands of the general public. As fond as she was of the Fidelius Charm, keeping it out of the limelight was probably the smarter choice.

There were other wards she could think of. Alya liked warding charms and enchantments—preventive measures were always a good choice in her books.

Protego Totalum was always a good choice, very basic. Everyone should know that one. Repello Muggletum should really be a spell that everyone knew how to use, just in case, especially since it was a lot easier to use than the Memory Charm (a spell she wouldn’t even suggest for obvious, Lockhart-shaped reasons). It was better to just remove the threat of ever being forced to use that one. The Disillusionment Charm would also be an option, though there was a risk of maybe ending up in trouble with the teachers over that one. Cave Inimicum was risky for the same reason, truth be told, though it was very tempting for the sheer rarity of the spell. The book they had found that one in had looked like it had spent the past five centuries buried in the Room of Hidden Things—which was partly why they had liked using it so much while on the run. All things considered, Salvio Hexia would likely be the smartest choice, th—

“I think,” Alex interrupted her thoughts, voice sure even as she somewhat nervously tapped her own sheet of parchment, frowning lightly, “this spell here could work really well. It’s really hard to do; the origin and history are fairly complex, and even most of the N.E.W.T. students don’t know about it. It basically just exists as part of the curriculum as extra credit for the few who have good chances of making it into the Auror Academy.”

That did sound good, Alya decided silently. Rare and complicated, yet also already part of the curriculum, so nothing they should get in trouble for. Unless the spell was something actually dangerous, like Confringo.

Noticing her own lapse in logic, Alya leaned over and glanced at where Alex was still tapping her quill against the parchment, immediately biting her lip to not laugh out loud in disbelief at what she was reading there.

Of course. Merlin, why hadn’t she thought of that?

Then again, after using it for years and successfully teaching it to at least four dozen people, it was not exactly a spell she could still think of as rare, hard, or overly complicated.

If Ron and Hermione knew, she was sure, they would never stop making fun of her ever again.

“Sure,” Alya agreed to the proposed spell with a smile that was more sad than supportive, picking up her quill again to note the spell down on her own parchment. Somewhere, she was sure, Fate really must be laughing at her right now. “Let’s go with the Patronus Charm.”

△

“You’re lucky,” Ominis told Poppy and Garreth as soon as their group reconvened after class, turning away from the stairs most of them needed to take to get to the Ancient Runes classroom. Walking Alya and Poppy the short way back to the Room of Requirement, then taking the Floo from there was better than dragging the two girls down to the classroom with them, they had all decided quite some weeks ago. More private as well. “I can’t believe you were actually lucky enough to be paired up together. So much for the draw being random.”

Alya wasn’t sure if she had ever seen Ominis so grouchy before. If she didn’t know better (and she actually didn’t), she’d say that he was pouting right now.

“You’re just mad because you have to work with Marius Longbottom,” Natty pointed out what all of them were thinking, and Alya had to subtly slap a hand over her mouth to stiffle her laughter when Ominis visibly wilted in the middle of the stairs.

“The bloke is an absolute imbecile,” he positively whined, his usual poise nowhere to be found as grace gave way to despair. “That absolute chowderhead actually wanted to use Expelliarmus for this project, can you believe it? Expelliarmus! Of all the spells in the world! How that gump actually manages to pass any of his classes is beyond me!”

Bloody hell, she was actually starting to feel a little sorry for Neville by association. Poor bloke was the descendant of an absolute moron, apparently.

“What spell did you settle on instead, then?” Garreth wanted to know as he stopped in front of Barnabas the Barmy’s tapestry to wait for Alya to open the Room, grinning when Ominis glared at him for the obvious amusement audible in his voice. They fell silent for a second as two third-years passed them by, listening to see whether or not they could hear someone else coming, before Alya hurried to make the door appear for them.

“I got him to agree to writing about the Silencing Charm, but I think I’m going to end up doing most of the project by myself at this point,” Ominis finally offered as they slipped in through the door, silence greeting them since Anne had decided to spend some time with some friends in Feldcroft this afternoon. “What about you?”

“Bubble-head Charm,” Poppy offered with a satisfied smile. “It’s one we’re going to learn next year, not too complicated, but hard enough. Not all of us are total overachievers.”

“Oi,” Alya protested at the same time that Sebastian did, both barely hiding their laughter at the very pointed jab, but it was Natty who actually fired back an eloquent answer. In a way.

“How dare you lump me in with this lot?” She demanded in a scandalised voice so obviously fake that it made Poppy outright cackle, full on clutching a hand to her chest like she was holding imaginary pearls. “I’ll have you know that Hector Fawley was perfectly reasonable, and we both agreed to a sixth year spell as well—we’re covering Aguamenti.”

The world really was unfair to Ominis, Alya thought to herself as she watched the boy pull a face. He was forced to work with an idiot, while the rest of them all had competent partners. Or at least she was pretty sure they all had competent partners. Alex was smart and ambitious, as far as she was able to tell from their limited interactions, Garreth and Poppy had each other, and Natty was partnered up with the future Minister of Magic.

Granted, that last one wasn’t exactly saying much, especially not since Fawley had been forced out of the office for his failure to acknowledge Gellert Grindelwald as the threat that he was.

Still, that left a question.

“What about you?” Alya asked Sebastian curiously—not only because he was just as much of an overachiever as she was, but also because she had no idea who his partner actually was. When they had all paired up, he had only seen him meet up with a blonde Ravenclaw, and that was the extent of her knowledge.

Alya, as had been firmly established by now, was not a person who liked not knowing things. Especially not when it came to strangers speaking to her friends, even in situations as innocent and irrelevant as this.

“What charm did you and your partner decide on? And what’s her name, by the way, I don’t think I ever even seen her before today.”

“That’s because you’re about as interested in our classmates as you are in the weather in China,” Sebastian commented rather drily, playfully bumping their shoulders together and earning himself an elbow to the ribs. “No, it’s actually not your fault for once, don’t worry. Clora’s just always preferred to stay in the background or with her friends. Prefers books to people, as far as I know. Very smart, though. We’ve decided on a N.E.W.T. level spell I found in your book, actually—Cave Inimicum?”

Clora, huh? That was… weird. Sebastian didn’t usually call people by their first names. He wasn’t as brusque about it as Ominis usually was, but it was still strange. Had they become friends already?

“That’s a good spell,” she managed to offer, somewhat distracted, not quite able to focus on anything else but this weird new information. “I was thinking of using that one as well, or maybe Salvio Hexia. Honestly, thinking back, Protego Horribilis would have also been a good choice.”

“I have never heard of any of these,” Garreth pointed out rather drily, amusement as present as ever. “Care to fill the rest of us in, Miss Overachiever?”

“Fuck off,” she laughed back, but did as asked. “They’re all wards of some kind. Designed to defend a specific area against either incoming people or curses and hexes, especially Protego Horribilis. Very useful, I can teach you about all of them, if you want.”

“Gladly,” Ominis agreed, somehow managing to sound both dismissive and grateful at the same time. “But do you mind telling us what charm you actually decided on before we have to leave for class?”

“Alex suggested the Patronus Charm,” she told them all with a roll of her eyes, crossing her arms. “Saw no reason to argue against it, that spell is awesome. And now get to class, the lot of you, we can talk more about this during dinner when Anne is back as well.”

“Yes, mum,” Natty joked, dodging the punch Alya aimed at her shoulder, and fled towards the Floo flame, the boys following after her with low grumbles and absolutely zero motivation.

She couldn’t help but watch them, watch Sebastian, as they all grabbed some powder from the small pot that Deek was making sure to keep filled each and every day, throwing it into the flame to let the Floo whisk them away to the Ancient Runes classroom. Something was weird here, she decided privately as she watched his broad back vanish in a swirl of green, one hand unconsciously raising to press against her chest. Really weird.

“Are you okay?” Poppy, next to her, the only one who remained, asked with something like worry in her voice, but Alya didn’t look, staring into space as she tried to figure out what was wrong. What it was she was feeling right now.

“I don’t know,” was all she finally managed to answer when Poppy nudged her arm in an attempt to get her attention, viciously shaking her head to get rid of her thoughts. “Come on, want to check up on Smaug with me? I think her egg is going to hatch soon.”

For one of them, that distraction was successful.

Somewhere else, where no mortal eye could ever see, a metaphorical pebble broke away and rolled, and Fate, absolute bitch that she was, laughed at the sight of it.

△