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Chapter Text

The first indicator of the impending disease that would shake the magical world to its core was Fief ignoring your temptations of shiny trinkets and juicy, fresh-picked berries in favour of hiding under your bed.

“Come on, sweetheart,” you murmur softly, ringing the little bell you’d fetched for her from Hogsmeade. “You loved this thing the other day. What’s the matter with you?”

It’s been a week since your trip to Hogsmeade and the awkward journey back to the castle with only you and Sevika. Sevika had chosen to sit with her back to the wind and opposite to you so that her cigar smoke blew directly into your face every single time she took a drag.

Neither of you had exchanged apologies or even pleasantries since you’d returned, but no longer do the portraits in the hallway shiver when you happen to pass one another; however, they do snicker whenever you drop seeds around her feet when she isn't looking.

With a decent haul from your shopping trip and confirmation from Viktor that he probably wouldn’t need any assistance for the rest of the month, you’d been looking forward to a relaxing week in front of the fire with your new book and Fief curling up in your lap.

Apparently Fief had other plans. When she’d accidentally nudged you awake in the middle of the night to dart from the warm blankets to beneath the bed you hadn’t thought much of it, presuming she’d just had a bad dream or wanted to pitter around for a while.

But when you rolled out of bed to prepare for the day ahead she was still under there, trembling violently.

“Come here,” you coo, gesturing her forward with one finger. “You’re shivering like hell, darling, I need to make sure you’re not sick. It won’t take long.”

Fief hurries forward and at first you think she’s finally come around - however, instead of leaving her spot, she takes your finger in her bill and tries to drag you back with her. You tut and shake your finger free. Fief retorts with a strange mewl which devolves into a series of short yaps.

“Silly girl,” you sigh. If she won’t let you check if she’s sick then it’s worth looking around to see if anything has spooked her.

You point your wand to the fire and various candles set up around the hut, filling the room with pleasant light more fitting for the evening rather than this early in the morning. Taking no chances, you look beneath the chairs, the stool and table, inside the cupboards, in the little bathroom that is set behind a small wooden door at the back… You even peer into the hearth to see if a salamander or something has moved in. Nothing.

“It’s just us,” you insist uselessly, but still Fief continues to squeak. “Fief, I really don’t have time for this.”

Still, you shrug on your new cloak and throw open the front door to stalk around the outside of the hut. There’s nothing sinister in the bushes, the shrubs, no threats lurking in the little neglected garden unless Fief had developed a fear of ants.

You go around the back of the hut, out of sight of the castle, and shut your eyes, letting your body painlessly contort and shrink, all the way down until green fabric was replaced by glossy black feathers. The persistent cold makes your feathers puff up uncomfortably. You spread your wings and flap, taking off into the air only to settle on the roof.

Apart from the smoke of the fireplace drifting from the chimney and the moss growing over the roof tiles, there is nothing that stands out. Your beady eyes scan the area and the ground below, in case there was something you missed. The birds’ eye view reveals nothing out of the ordinary.

Even so, Fief is inconsolable. Free of your feathers and back in the hut, you cock your head to the side in bewilderment.

As much as you’d like to figure out what has Fief so shaken up, you have a job to do. “Silly girl,” you repeat, lightly scolding her as you slide a small bowl of berries beneath the bed to sit next to her. As an afterthought you roll the bell down there with her too. “I’ll leave the lights on for you, alright? Don’t get too close to the fire.”

You step out of the hut and shut the door behind you, but linger for a few moments. It’s very quiet this morning. Perhaps more quiet than usual? In a ridiculous sense of precaution, you lock the door behind you.

There’s nothing different about your short journey down to the creature reserve so you can’t help silently chastising yourself for being so on edge. Fief was weird, even for a niffler. As much as you loved the troublesome furball she was definitely more of a pain in ass than any other niffler you’d come across - although that might have to do with your poor training instead of an innate issue on her end.

Arriving at the edge of the reserve field, you wave your wand to make one of ‘Stupid Horse’s’ food baskets float. You refuse to accept that really is what his name is - the best thing you can do for the poor thing is take advantage of Viktor staying inside more often during the colder months and get the abraxen used to a different name. ‘Caramel’ still sounds like a good alternative.

It’s still oddly silent as you make your way down the path and your footsteps the only thing you can hear. It could have something to do with how dark the sky is now that the days are getting longer but that doesn’t feel right.

Then you catch sight of Caramel.

Instead of being settled in the crook of his rock like he usually is at this time and getting up just in time for his breakfast, he’s already up and walking in circles. His hooves paw at the dirt and he tosses his mane in obvious distress.

“Are you all reading the same newspapers?” you quip sarcastically, lowering the basket onto the ground. You don’t want to get too close for fear of being crushed - he may be a big softie, but he’s still an enormous horse.

Maybe the pixies had wound him up? You glance at the pixie tree to find it has been picked clean of berries and is missing all of its pixies.

Frowning up at the tree, it suddenly clicks for you why everything is so quiet; you can’t hear any birds. Is that weird for this time of year?

“Oh!” you gasp, feeling a pressure on your back, and the tree sways along with you. Looking over your shoulder, you’re shocked to see Caramel flapping his wings, causing a great gust to push back against you, his haunches back, all ready for take off. Then he changes his mind, closing his wings up and walking around in another circle, his eyes rolling around wildly.

What the hell has gotten everyone so riled up this morning?

“Caramel?” you call over, not really expecting to get the abraxen’s attention. You step closer, wand at the ready in case he ends up trying to trample you in his confusion. “What’s the matter, lovely? Has something scared you?”

Caramel whines and stamps his hoof again, hard, like a child throwing a tantrum that they’re too upset to commit to. You’re not going to get anywhere at this rate.

The only thing to do is resort to the only thing you know will work on him - food. You hurry back over to his food basket and take off the lid. “You want breakfast? Come on, it’s all ready for you!”

This time Caramel turns his head in your direction and his stomping lessens in severity. However, when you squint, you can still see his feathered wings twitching. If food alone wasn’t enough to calm him down you might really be in trouble. Sorry Fief.

“Accio Berries!” you chant, pointing your wand up to the sky and holding out your hand, visualising the bowl of berries you’d left with your equally upset niffler.

Nothing happens for a second, then you hear a distant crash, the sound of something skirting a bush, and then you’re holding the bowl of berries in your outstretched hand. Half of them are gone, implying you’d rudely interrupted Fief in the middle of her meal. At least you knew she was stable enough to eat.

You dump the berries in with the basket, making sure Caramel can see. “You see the berries? Come on, they’re all ready, just for you. You love blueberries, don't you?”

Caramel relents. He folds his wings up fully and slowly walks towards the basket. You step back to give him space to eat, glad he’s taken an interest. On the other hand, you’re unnerved as hell.

Fief is hiding under the bed, the pixies have taken off somewhere, none of the birds are singing, and Caramel has had to be convinced to eat his damn food instead of flying off to who knows where. One or the other could be brushed off, however this was undeniably unnatural. So far it’s only animals and creatures, but…

Is Tinker okay?

A jolt runs through you at the thought. Without waiting to see if Caramel decides to chow down, you pocket your wand and begin striding further down the path. You take no notice of the thorn bushes that warn you not to get close to the forbidden forest - as if they’d ever discouraged you before - and find the gap between the trees, stepping through the bush into Tinker’s clearing.

What is that noise? Is it coming from above? You nearly look up to check but you’re distracted by the state of Tinker’s nest.

The nest which usually sits on the edge next to the thicket is half missing. Not destroyed, missing; the sticks have been neatly removed. You step further to find your immediate suspicions confirmed as the missing sticks have been moved deeper into the forest, out of the clearing but just visible.

Because Tinker doesn’t seem to be here, and because only half of the nest has been moved, you get the impression that she’s already given up on that idea. Why was she trying to move it in the first place? It would be warmer in the clearing since there was more chance of the sun shining down on her, something which would be helpful with her feathers still struggling to grow back and provide her with that extra layer of warmth.

The strange noise above you ceases, and you glance up just in time to see Tinker plummeting from the sky.

She twists in mid-air so as not to land on her stomach or her sides, and lets out a strangled cry when she lands on her back. You gasp in horror when you hear a crack and, forgetting your cautiousness up to this point, rush to her side.

But she is undeterred. Tinker gives a huffy squawk but rolls over slowly, standing upright and lowering herself to the ground, spreading her wings fully. You barely dodge getting hit by one of them as they take you by surprise, prompting you to stumble back.

With her wings outstretched so much, far more than ever before, you get a very good look beneath them. They are scratched, littered with old white scars and more patches of missing feathers. The one closest to you keeps twitching.

Tinker is in absolutely no condition to fly. Yet, to your horror, her front talons dig into the ground as she prepares to take flight.

“NO!” you shout. You dodge her wing again, and just as she flaps her wings you wrap your arms around her neck, forcefully keeping her grounded with your weight throwing her off balance. “You cannot fly like this! You’re just going to fall down and hurt yourself!”

Tinker’s talons tear up the ground beneath her in frustration as she twists her neck to get you off of her. Her wings move up and down weakly, trying to pick up speed and drop down at the same time. Tinker shakes her head wildly, her beak reaching around and scratching the back of your neck.

You hiss but forget the pain quickly, adrenaline pumping as your body realises what a precarious situation you’re in. While her wings are still moving you continue to hang on, refusing to let her do something so reckless in such awful condition. Tinker’s back hooves kick out in protest and she bucks forward, throwing her head back and taking you right off your feet.

It’s almost enough to throw you off but you clutch harder, refusing to be shaken. Her wings beat against the air more and more slowly, while the rest of her fights harder for freedom.

“If you’re that determined then at least let me fix you up!” you demand. Taking another stupid risk, you unhook one arm from around her neck and reach for your cloak pocket to get your wand.

Tinker isn’t taking any chances. Restrained by one less arm she suddenly rears back onto her hind legs, taking you with her. You let out a scream that gets louder when she throws herself back down violently, finally tossing you off of her.

You land awkwardly on your side, barely avoiding snapping your wand in two from your own body weight. Still, you don’t feel it, and stubbornly pick yourself up, ready for round two.

Thankfully there is no need. Tinker’s wings have stopped moving, drooping dejectedly down to the grass. Her beady eyes, however, are fixed on you. Whatever you’ve interrupted, she isn’t letting you off the hook that easily.

Tinker opens her beak and screeches, her voice a battlecry of fury. Then she charges.

You just have time to reach for your wand and point it toward her when she’s on top of you, one talon pinning your shoulder back down onto the dirt as you are forced onto your back. The other talon is raised up above you, sharp and curved.

For one awful moment, it isn’t the talon of an eagle. Instead it’s bigger, scaly, tinted grey. Tinker’s eyes flash a shade of red that doesn't belong there. You raise your wand hand up to shield your face as the claws slice down.

<>

In the spirit of Halloween, a holiday that Heimerdinger and the students always show a great deal of enthusiasm for, the great hall has been totally decked out.The floating candles have been put into pumpkins with carved faces, mostly done by all the students who hadn’t been able to attend the trip to Hogsmeade.

The fire too had been charmed to glow a bioluminescent green instead of the typical red and orange, and the tables were all covered in green and red cloth that Heimerdinger insists fits the Halloween theme and definitely isn’t meant for Christmas.

“There’s an orange cloth with black bats in one of the storage rooms, professor,” Jayce tries. He had snagged the seat next to Heimerdinger in the hopes his persistence would sway him. Mel is on Jayce’s other side, with Viktor next to her. “Red and green just suits Christmas a lot better, don’t you think?”

“Red and green is perfectly fine for Halloween!” Heimerdinger exclaims, white bushy eyebrows furrowed as if he hasn’t had this exact argument every single year since he started running Hogwarts. “Red is the colour of blood, that’s scary isn’t it? And- and green is like… Toxic fumes, like what the muggles are always showing in scientifically-fictional movies!”

“What sci-fi movies are you watching?!”

Mel taps Jayce on the shoulder, drawing his attention away instantly. “Do you know what’s the matter with those two?” she murmurs quietly, nodding subtly towards the other end of the table.

Silco and Sevika are sitting next to one another as usual, both of them silently eating their breakfast. They haven’t exchanged a word the entire morning.

The salt shaker is on Silco’s right side, while Sevika is on his left.

“Pass the salt?” she asks.

“If I say no, you’ll take it anyway,” he mutters in a bitter, unusually petty tone.
Sevika takes a deep breath, closing her eyes momentarily so nobody can see them rolling, and reaches across for the salt.

“Like I said,” Silco snips.

Jayce, Mel, Viktor and Heimerdinger stare at them, taken aback by the uncharacteristic tension between the two. Grayson and Singed, sitting on the same side as Silco and Sevika, pretend not to notice.

“I’m sure they’ve just had a disagreement about something,” Jayce whispers. “Let’s just leave them alone.”

“Where are the owls?” Grayson pipes up, pulling back her sleeve to check a rose-gold watch around her wrist. “The mail is late.”

“So is… Ah, there she is,” Viktor says as you finally step through the double doors of the great hall and pass the student tables. Viktor frowns when you get closer, noting the strange mood you’re in.

You keep your head down, eyes glued to the floor but obviously not seeing it. Your cloak is wrapped tightly around you, and your feet drag on the flagged stone.

“Did you not sleep well?” Viktor asks gently, reaching over to pull your chair out for you. You barely hear him, almost collapsing into your seat and making no move to fill up your plate. “Hello? You’re not unwell?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” you mutter. You shake your head and pull your chair forward, shooing his hand off the arm. “It’s fine.”

“Something wrong?”

You shake your head, brushing off Jayce’s question. “I said it’s fine. Something just has the creatures all riled up this morning.”

Viktor pokes at you a little longer but you won’t say anything else about the matter. His eyes drift from your detached expression to your cloak.

“A little early for you to be getting battle scars,” he says softly, only half-joking. “Silco may have something, if that’s the problem.” Seeing that there isn’t much else he can do, Viktor leaves you alone to dejectedly poke at some scrambled eggs.

Heimerdinger has also noticed your odd attitude. Noting how Viktor has quickly exhausted all that he can offer, he casts his deep blue eyes to Mel instead.

You look vacantly down at your empty plate as your mind wanders elsewhere, slinking around volcanic rocks and skipping over dragon scales that have been shed all across grassy plains.

Two gentle hands rest on your shoulders and rouse you from your unwitting daydreams. You shift to see Mel standing over you, smiling easily.

“I wanted to talk to you about something. If you’re not going to eat, why don’t you come with me to my classroom? It’s Saturday, so I don’t have to worry about lessons today.”

“I haven’t eaten yet…” you say weakly, but you know you can’t stomach anything right now. So you pull yourself up again and trudge behind Mel as she leads the way back past the tables and out of the great hall. She takes the familiar path past the quidditch trophy case and down the eternally twisting staircases that know better than to cause her trouble.

Mel’s classroom is set almost next door to Singed’s dreaded greenhouses, much to your surprise. Two such differing characters being so close together was nearly uncomfortable, although they never had much chance to interact despite the close quarters. Mel waits for you to catch up before placing a delicate hand on the golden doorknob and pushing the door open.

The classroom itself is both wonderful to look upon and perfectly practical, not unlike Mel herself. Twelve sizable desks have been split equally into three rows of four, each one meant to be shared between two students, and at the front on a slightly highered platform is Mel’s desk. It’s been kept neat, with a gas lamp on one side and two volumes of transfiguration textbooks stacked on top of each other.

The captivating part of the room though is undeniably the paintings. Hung up high on every wall to avoid any stray spells are beautiful portraits depicting various types of scenery. One is a field of wildflowers overlooked by a setting sun, one a sun-dappled forest, another an endless desert with a distant oasis…

You’re successfully pulled from the events of the morning as you gawk at the gorgeous landscapes, appreciating the real time ripples of natural ponds and gentle swaying of leaves and petals. “Are these… I mean, did you paint these?”

Mel hums and nods as she pushes you towards her desk. “Yes, I wanted to really make the classroom my own. They’re not too distracting in lessons and I’m quite proud of them.”

There’s a jungle too, and a cave beneath a flowing waterfall, and… And…

“Um, where’s that one from?” you ask, pointing towards one painting at the very back of the classroom. Mel follows your finger to the portrait depicting grey rocks with jagged red and orange cracks, and the ground is littered with clawed footprints.

“That one was a request,” she says shortly, looking away from it. “I’m happy with how it turned out, but I’ve never been there.”

“Oh. Wait, so have you been to all of these other places?” Imagining Mel in the depths of the jungle in her spotless white dress and high heels, you cover your mouth to prevent a chortle from escaping.

“Not all of them.” She smiles at you and reaches for a drawer in her desk, flipping through a few stray papers before finding the one she’s looking for. “I wanted to talk to you about getting the clubhouses up and running again. I think they were still active while you were at Hogwarts but I could be mistaken?”

“The clubhouses?”

The clubhouses were three enormous rooms that had been devoted to three different clubs that students usually had to pass a few requirements to be allowed into - they’d been very popular in your early years. Unfortunately you didn’t know all that much about them since you’d always preferred to keep a distance between yourself and your classmates.

“I know there were three clubhouse for one club each. Let me think… Dragon Club was sort of for ‘risk-takers’ and physical activities, like flying, duelling, that sort of thing. Sphinx Club was for doing extra activities involving history and constellations, I remember that was very popular with the ravenclaws. Then the Hippogriff Club was all about creatures, animals, plants and potion ingredients - all things to do with nature, to some degree.”

“Exactly.” Mel pushes the paper across the desk towards you. “Since we’re still a bit short on staff and can’t offer the same subjects or quality that Hogwarts used to be able to, Heimerdinger was very excited about the idea of getting these up and running again.”

“Sevika mentioned something like this,” you recall. “A little while ago she suggested I get involved with running a club since there isn’t much else for me to do outside of feeding whatever is staying in the reserve or helping out other teachers where I can.”

“I assume this was brought up during those precious five minutes where two were actually getting along?” Mel asks dryly. “We had said something about doing more clubs-wise, so I do appreciate her initiative I suppose. We are going to have a staff meeting to discuss the details more in depth soon. I thought you’d be a very good fit for handling the Hippogriff club.”

It sounds like the obvious choice on the surface but still you blink in surprise and shrink back slightly. “Erm, on my own? I don’t think I can do it alone. I mean, not at first…”

“No no, I wouldn’t dream of throwing you in the deep end like that,” Mel chuckles. “Silco and Singed will hopefully be getting involved too.”

“Oh.” That wasn’t much better. The thought of spending more time with them was… Disconcerting.

Mel puts a hand over yours in sympathy. “I know. But I would appreciate having you in the club along with them, considering their… ‘Unique’ approaches towards handling children. I won’t deny their talents in their crafts, however when it comes to the students I think having somebody warmer would do the club a lot of good.”

Unfortunately, that made a lot of sense. “Uh huh. What about the other ones?”

“Sevika and Grayson are the candidates for Dragon Club, while Jayce, Heimerdinger and I will be handling Sphinx Club.”

“How about Viktor?”

“We want to make sure he’s feeling up to it before we decide on anything.”

You pick up the paper and read through it slowly. It outlines rough plans for the subjects and activities these clubs would involve, as well as when they’d be running. The Sphinx club seems very interested in covering more history. That’s understandable - Heimerdinger is also the History of Magic professor, but his lectures tend to drone on and on about details that aren’t important in exams due to him actually living through half the events on the syllabus.

“I’ll think about it,” you say eventually. In other circumstances you might be more excited about the idea of teaching what you know about creatures to the next generation. After this morning, however, you just can’t quite seem to kick your brain into gear.

Mel takes the paper back and files it away into her drawer again. “That’ll do for now. If we get the clubhouses up to date, we could probably keep a variety of smaller creatures in there. It will have a fresh water system that we can filter throughout the room, there’s a spot put aside for a tree that would suit bowtruckles and fairies and the like…”

“Really?”

Mel takes note of how you perk up slightly. “Oh yes. Singed and Silco’s plants will also probably be a good chance to attract some other creatures or simple insects. Perhaps a few tunnels could be fitted in too, or little play areas for the more lively things like your niffler.”

“Yes, maybe… If we sectioned some of the water off and added plant life like seaweed and adjusted it for salt-water creatures maybe I could even get a kappa or two running around…”

Mel’s fear that you’ll actually go through with housing kappas in the clubroom is likely what motivates her to talk with you through the potential of these clubs for the rest of the hour. Even if little can be accomplished with ideas alone so early in this decision, at the very least the distraction is able to bring you out of your funk.

As the minutes tick closer to the end of the hour, however, you catch Mel’s hints that she has other work to do even if there are no lessons today. At first you assume she only wants you to pack up your rough drawn-up plans and give her some space, but then she puts a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“You’ll forgive me for asking about your distressed state at breakfast?” she asks delicately. She wanted to address the issue before she had to get back to work.

You could just dismiss her concerns, wave her off and just shrug your earlier mood off as the result of a rough night's sleep. However, it wouldn’t feel right to brush her way when she’s gone through the trouble of making you feel better.

“Something’s riled up all the creatures down at the reserve,” you admit, fiddling with the sleeves of your cloak. You hadn’t taken it off in all the time you’d been in the classroom. “I was checking in on a particular creature I’ve been concerned about but in her panic she ended up scratching me a little.”

Olive eyes fix you with a discerning gaze. “I understand you’ve a lot of experience handling dangerous creatures, so I find it hard to believe you’ve never before had a scratch or two.”

“‘Course I’ve been scratched up plenty of times.” Suddenly unable to look at Mel, you instead choose to focus on her beautiful paintings, zoning in especially on the painting depicting grey rocks and clawed footprints. “I’m not upset about the scratches.”

“Well something about it has you upset.” Mel squeezes your shoulder slightly with the goal of keeping you grounded in the moment. The good intentions don’t escape you but you shrug her hand off anyway to focus on articulating yourself.

“You… Erm, you know how right before this I was working with dragons?” Mel nods. “Right before I left there was an incident. One of the dragons - a Ukrainian Ironbelly - got scared or something and went on a rampage.”

“Oh, goodness,” Mel breathes. “Those are- Was everyone okay?”

There’s an uncomfortably strained moment of silence before you can bring yourself to answer. “No. I got out fine, obviously, just needed some potions and a week to heal up. Didn’t even leave a mark. My- My trainee, however…”

Out of a strange desperation you look away from the painting and back at Mel, only to be met with eager blue eyes and a tousle of ginger hair, one hand raised over her freckled face in an over-enthusiastic salute.

You twist your neck in the other direction so quickly you fear it will snap. After a moment of ensuring you can still move your head you slowly look back.

“Are you alright?” Mel asks, her eyes wide with alarm.

“I’ll get there. Thanks for your time.”

<>

You continue to be plagued by concerns over Fief, Caramel and Tinker, although you find yourself trying
to push the latter to the back of your mind. This behaviour is so bizarre and you can’t even distract yourself by admiring the various birds outside; there are no owls, no stray pets belonging to the students that have taken it upon themselves to wander the castle. Was every single creature on edge, or had they all been spirited away in the night?

The comparison would only piss her off, but you can’t help wondering if Sevika is feeling their paranoia. The idea hits you when you accidentally bump into her in the corridors on the way back from Mel’s classroom, knocking a folder out of her hand.

“Pick that up,” she snaps before you can apologise, prompting you to shut your mouth immediately. She was in an especially crabby mood today, and you sulkily pluck the folder up off the floor. “Actually, why don’t you make yourself useful? Drop this off for Vi for me,” she says, shoving a small stack of papers into your hands despite them now being full with her folder.

“Is this homework?” you ask, trying not to drop anything. You bite down a hiss when you’re forced to press the folder against your chest to juggle it all. “Why don’t I just drop it off at Gryffindor tower?”

“Because she might ‘lose’ it. She should be over by the quidditch pitch, I know the Gryffindor team has practice about now and they reserved it a while ago.”

You raise an eyebrow disapprovingly. “You want to publicly shame her into doing it? That won’t go down great. You should just talk to her, in my opinion.”

“Good thing I didn’t ask for it,” Sevika hisses. She turns her head away and scowls - you’re learning that’s how she suppresses her growls. What’s gotten her so wound up? “Just go and give it to her.”

“Now?” You hadn’t wanted to interrupt your meeting with Mel but since you’d been able to somewhat shake off the events of the morning, you wanted to stop by the medical room.

“Are you busy?”

“Not exactly, I just… Oh, can I have some more of that potion you gave me when we got- when I slipped? Is it in your office?”

Sevika regards you with a blank expression, then reaches forward to touch the fabric of your cloak on your shoulder. “Is there a reason you’re wearing this inside? We’ve already put down the heating charms.”

“I’m not that cold, I just had a bit of a scrap with one of the creatures.” Tinker is a rather big creature, so mentioning her might make this into a bigger deal than it is. “She’d had a bit of a fright, it was my own fault,” you add quickly when Sevika raises her eyebrows.

For a moment Sevika lets you quietly squirm under her gaze. Is she annoyed at you? Probably, which you wouldn’t mind if you weren’t after something of hers.

Then she sighs and one of her hands disappears beneath her poncho, rifling around in her pocket before producing the same potion bottle from before. It was much emptier now, but there was still plenty left. “Go on. Put it back in my office later.”

“Why’d you have it on you?” you ask, taking it from her.

“Because,” she says simply. Without another word, she rudely snatches the folder from you and pushes past you to continue on her way, leaving you to scramble balancing Vi’s homework and the potion so as not to break it.

She is so damn rude all the time, you think to yourself. Then she does something almost nice like this and leaves you wondering what her deal is.

<>

The quidditch pitch is set a fair distance away from the castle at about a ten minute walk from the training grounds where Grayson holds flying lessons. It’s a great structure with six towers on either side and stands for the audiences to sit between them on a lower level. They loom over you as you approach from behind. You can just make out the sound of shouts and whistles within.

Outside the pitch, however, is a large shed which is used as the quidditch players’ changing rooms - your loophole. You didn’t want to embarrass Vi by handing her so much work she was falling behind on, especially now that you’d grown accustomed to how much of a menace she and her friends could be. The idea of being shut up in another storage cupboard is far from appealing.

So the better option was to leave them in the gryffindor changing rooms by her locker. Did you know which locker was hers? No, but you could figure it out. Although if you didn’t, having the new staff member get caught poking around the kids changing rooms would not be a good look.

Before you can even step foot inside the shed however…

“Miss! Did you come to watch practice?”

You spin around quickly, looking left and right to see absolutely nobody there.

“Up here!”

You crane your neck upwards to see Powder waving down at you from the top bench of the stands, her short blue braid and her green-striped tie hanging down. She’s shed her uniform robe, preferring instead to wear her black top with the school crest and skirt. On her right, Ekko is too distracted to say hello as he keeps his hands behind Powder, obviously worried she’d fall down. Your hand slips to your cloak pocket where your wand rests when she starts bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just dropping something off for Vi!” you call up, waving the papers. There was surely no harm in telling them. They weren’t the type to tease Vi and land you in hot water yet.

“Oh, you can come up and give them to her! They’re having a break soon!”

“Erm, well, I think I’d better leave them here actually…”

“Please? It’s just me, Ekko and Mylo up here. And Mylo is really annoying.” Powder disappears for a moment, and you can faintly hear a new squabble between her and Mylo developing. Privately, you were glad they were arguing - Powder’s meek behaviour during the first few weeks of school had you worried she’d take whatever crap Milo gave her if Vi wasn’t looking.

Unfortunately you are the adult in this situation and also a staff member. It is now literally your job to keep this behaviour in check.

“I’m coming up!” you shout reluctantly, tucking Vi’s papers under your arm. “Don’t throw each other off the stands!”

Between two of the towers is an opening to two staircases going in opposite directions. Going up the stairs on the right takes you up to the level of the stands on the same side as Ekko, Powder and Mylo.

Whatever tiff Mylo and Powder had been having had already died down as they were back to ignoring each other. Instead, Powder is talking animatedly to Ekko as he nods his head - whether it was because he was actually keeping up or just wanted her to think so was up for debate - while Mylo was clearly distracted, hunched over in his seat and staring out at the pitch.

A blur of red and gold rushes past, followed by two more. You squint to see Vi on her broomstick, legs wound around it tightly, her hands gripping hard to keep her steady. Her short hair is whipping around her face wildly as she ducks and weaves, dodging around her pursuers as she keeps herself flat against the broom.

One of the two chasing Vi is Claggor, also keeping down against his broom to pick up speed but not nearly as much as Vi. His goggles are lowered over his face, obscuring his eyes from watchers, but you get the idea he purposefully isn’t going as quickly for fear of crashing into the stands. His broom rocks to the side more than the others, making it seem like he’ll flip upside down if he isn’t careful.

The other pursuer is a girl you don’t recognise with dark skin, black lipstick and locks that remain impressively sturdy against the air resistance. Her position is between that of Vi and Claggor, hands clutching her broom as she throws herself forward. Even from afar, her eyes are filled with determination.

Vi is leading them on a chase. Despite her best efforts her broom won’t fly as quickly as theirs, forcing her to switch directions often to throw them off, violently swinging around midair - she even forces the other two to scatter when she suddenly turns to ram straight for them, a brutal scare tactic.

“Wow,” you say involuntarily, staring after them in admiration.

“I know,” Mylo sighs, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his palms. He doesn’t sound impressed so much as wistful.

You sit down by Powder and Ekko, content for now to watch. You didn’t have anywhere pressing to be anyway, although you shouldn’t linger too long so you could apply some of Sevika’s potion. The thought makes you frown and retreat a little more into your cloak.

“Is your cloak green because you’re supporting Slytherin?” Ekko asks. “I don’t think you should be watching Gryffindor practice if you are.”

“It’s green because green is a nice colour,” you respond. “There’s some gold lining too. You can count that as support for Gryffindor.”

“If showing support for Slytherin is enough to get kicked out of here, why is she allowed to stay?” Mylo grumbles, throwing Powder a spiteful glare. You couldn’t fathom how he was so bitter towards an eleven-year old. “She’s going to jinx our chances of getting to that house cup, you just watch.”

Powder huffs and swings a spindly leg forward to kick his seat from behind. “Vi is on the Gryffindor team, so I’m supporting Gryffindor! I’m going to make banners and everything!”

“Yeah, she’s obviously on our side, so she should get to stay!” Ekko insists, jumping to Powder’s defence. His school robe too has been put to one side, his white top a contrast to Powder’s black. “She’s doing more than you are.”

Mylo scoffs and holds up his red and gold striped tie. “I’m on this team through and through. Powder seems to think she can jump between teams. I bet you’ll abandon ship the second it looks like Slytherin is in the lead.”

“At least I’m on the ship, you’re just waving at it!” Powder snaps back. Mylo jumps up from his seat and Powder awkwardly raises her fists.

“Both of you sit down and stop bickering,” you say sternly, catching everyone (including yourself) by surprise. “Do you think Vi wants to see you two fooling around up here or does she want you to cheer her on?”

Mylo and Powder visibly deflate, lowering their hands like they aren’t sure where to put them. Ekko puts a hand on Powder’s shoulder to comfort her, and starts talking about painting banners again.

You don’t hear what Ekko’s new ideas are though, too distracted by a flash of dark blue under the stands seats. It’s very hard to make out - you probably wouldn’t have noticed it if it hadn’t jumped when you spoke up. “Who’s under there?”

“Under where?” Ekko asks. Powder giggles and elbows him in the chest.

“Under the stands - see?” You point to a gap between the seats where a head of blue hair is trying to sink down. “Caitlyn?”

Mylo whips around to make an abrupt dash for where you were pointing, reaching into the gap.

“OW! That’s my hair!”

Mylo laughs even when a loud ‘smack’ can be heard cracking across his skin, causing him to snatch his hand back. “VI! Get over here! Your cupcake’s committing foul play!”

The activity on the pitch fizzles out as everyone pulls their brooms to a halt in the air. Vi swivels around and darts up to where you’re all sitting, and where a certain Ravenclaw is desperately trying to cover her tomato-red face with her hands.

Vi squints through the gap and lets out a triumphant bark of laughter. “I don’t believe this! You're so worried about us beating you this year that you’re spying on us, Kiramman? I’m disappointed.”

“You seem perfectly happy to me,” Caitlyn murmurs irritably as she finally gives up her foiled hiding place and crawls out from beneath the stands, straightening up and brushing off her skirt. “Yes, alright, you’ve caught me, well done,” she adds sullenly.

“What the hell? What makes you think you get to show up to our practice?” A new voice joins in the confrontation, coming from the girl who had been flying with Claggor and Vi. She joins Vi in mid-air, crossing her arms over her chest. Very brave for somebody on a broomstick. “And after all those damn lectures you gave us last year!”

“It wasn’t my idea!”

“Yeah? You’re still happy to go along with it though?”

You take a second to notice Vi and the girl’s brooms, when put side by side, were different despite them being on the same team. The girl was sporting a commendable Comet 290 - one of the fastest brooms to exist back when you were a student - while Vi was seated on a Shooting Star, a broom notorious for being incredibly cheap and losing height and speed as they aged.

She must be using a school-issued one - no wonder the others were able to catch up with her so easily.

“Alright, calm down,” you say tiredly, putting two fingers to your forehead. Did your coworkers have to listen to this all the time? “Caitlyn, I’d expect you to know better than to try to cheat. You never struck me as the type.”

Caitlyn flushes harder and hangs her head, scowling as Mylo leans forward to gloat “Ooooh!” in her ear. Vi tilts her broomstick and smacks him upside the head.

“No, no,” the other girl scolds Vi. “Let him.”

“No!” you interject. Merlin, this would be easier if they’d save beating each other up for when you weren’t around to take responsibility for it. “Stop hurting each other before I start taking house points off of you. And Caitlyn…”

“I know. I apologise for spying on your practice,” Caitlyn sighs begrudgingly.

“It wouldn’t have done any good even if we hadn’t caught you,” says Claggor, who had managed to escape your notice by hovering below Vi and the other girl. “We’re just doing warm ups today since none of us had a chance to go on our brooms over the summer.”

“Oh.” Caitlyn sighs dejectedly. “I see.”

“Did you come by to cheer us on?” Vi asks, turning her broom to face you.

“I’m rooting for all of you,” you say sweetly. That sounded like the sort of thing a non-biased teacher was supposed to say - in reality you’ve never cared for quidditch. “But no, I was actually here to drop off some homework you missed. Professor Sevika told me to give it to you directly.”

Vi’s face falls as you hesitantly produce the stack of papers from your cloak.

“Wow, I thought there’d be more,” Mylo says nonchalantly. Powder takes the paper and helpfully puts them in her satchel, presumably to give to Vi after practice.

“Get that done, Vi,” the girl warns, “I don’t want whatever shit you have with Sevika to get you held back and kicked off the team.”

“Yes, Gert, I know,” Vi murmurs. Then she brightens up and looks to Caitlyn, then to you, then back to Gert. “I’ll get it done.”

It doesn’t take a genius to know Vi has already decided to use Caitlyn’s spying as leverage to get her to do her homework and is waiting for you to leave so that she can pursue her blackmail scheme. Fortunately she hasn’t said it explicitly in front of you. As far as you’re concerned, it’s not your problem.

‘Gert’ fixes Vi with a hard stare but shrugs and takes her word for it, swirling around on her broom and flying down to the pitch. “Quick break!”

“So, Miss,” Mylo starts, flashing you a toothy grin which isn’t nearly as charming as he thinks it is, “Professor Ogre treating you right?”

“Don’t say that,” you scold. “What do you mean?”

It then hits you like a ton of bricks that Mylo is probably privy to Vi and Caitlyn’s belief that you and Sevika have something going on behind the scenes. Even worse, you’re wearing the cloak you’d had on in the shop - would they notice it was the same one? Had they even clocked there was anybody else in the shop when they were talking? You’d been pretty quiet.

To your dismay somebody has clearly let Powder and Ekko in on this false information.

“I know you really like creatures, but you’re too pretty to marry an ogre, Miss,” Powder quips. The way Mylo snorts and playfully slaps Powder on the shoulder gives you whiplash. Caitlyn slaps his hand off again and begins hurriedly whispering in Powder’s ear, likely begging her to stop talking.

Shutting this conversation down might have the negative effect of confirming their suspicions. The best alternative? Play dumb.

“Marry? What, Sevika? Merlin, no, I can barely stand…” You clear your throat, pretending it was a slip of the tongue. “We barely know each other. You shouldn’t call your teachers names, Powder.”

“She calls us brats, I’ve heard her.”

“Ah, well… She shouldn’t do that…”

Caitlyn cocks her head suspiciously. “I don’t believe you barely know each other. You obviously know enough to play on her weaknesses - I’ve noticed you sprinkling seeds on her. You’re trying to set the crows on her, aren’t you?”

“Not crows specifically, I just thought it was funny when-” you cut yourself off from an actual slip of the tongue this time. You ought to start hitting yourself over the head with a book that says ‘you work here, you can’t talk to students like this’. “Are crows a weakness of hers?”

“Oh yeah, she hates them,” Vi chuckles. “She’s superstitious as hell. She doesn’t even walk under ladders, and she won’t sit at a table if it makes thirteen people.”

Sevika is superstitious? You weren’t her biggest fan but she always gave the impression of being very no-nonsense (unless she wanted to piss you off by threatening to cook Fief into a stew) and sensible. “And… She hates crows because of it?”

“In our first year a crow got into her classroom through the window and landed on her desk. She wouldn’t go near it. When the lesson was over we stayed behind and she tried to ‘wingardium-leviosa’ it back out,” Caitlyn recalls. Mylo and Vi nod along in reminiscence.

“If she asks, we know nothing about the crow that somehow got into her bedroom,” Mylo adds.

“I seriously don’t,” Claggor says quickly. Way to throw his friends under the bus but you don’t blame him.

“BREAK’S OVER!” Gert shouts from the pitch below. “Come on, we’ve only got the pitch for another forty minutes!”

“That was barely two minutes!” Vi groans, but she and Claggor turn their brooms around and dart down to join her.

“Er, I ought to get going now,” you begin.

“Wait! I wanted to ask-” Powder gets cut off as she trips over her satchel in her haste. She decides to stay put. “Have you seen Mouser? I haven’t seen her all morning.”

“Oh yeah, why didn’t we get any owl mail by the way?” Ekko asks. “I thought that was a daily thing, apart from Sundays.”

“Mouser is missing too?” you ask slowly. “Sorry, I don't know. I think something has all the animals spooked. None of you go down to the creature reserve by the way,” you add suddenly. If it weren’t for your mood this morning you would have had the sense to tell Viktor or Heimerdinger to issue a warning to students, lest they be trampled by an upset Caramel.

“What something?” Ekko queries curiously.

“Um…”

“MYLO! KNOCK IT OFF!” Vi shouts from across the field. You all turn to see Mylo dangling Powder’s school robe over the side of the stands and trying to fix it to the adjacent tower.

“Why?!” Powder squeals in dismay as she and Ekko stumble over each other to make a rush for Mylo. In moments Mylo has been pushed onto his bottom to be abused with Powder’s satchel.

Caitlyn sighs and turns to you, expecting you to step in. You, however, have seized the opportunity to slip away.

Maybe you weren’t qualified for this job after all. Thank goodness you were literally the only person who wanted it.

<>

A couple of nights later, Fief has calmed down enough to sleep on the bed with you instead of underneath it. She buries herself beneath the quilt before you’ve even slipped on your pajamas for the evening - baggy bottoms to keep warm that are rendered almost useless when you pair it with a simple black tank-top. You need to get on top of your laundry.

The quilt should keep you perfectly warm too, and you’ve left the fire on. It won’t do any harm. You push back the cover and collapse into bed. Fief crawls onto your chest the ways she’s used to, but you hiss quietly and gently push her down to your stomach instead. You pull the quilt over you both, then stretch your arms up, a lengthy yawn escaping you.

“Night, sweetie,” you murmur. Fief squeaks softly in response. She really is a sweetheart when she isn’t ruining your social life.

It’s already midnight, very late for a school night. You had procrastinated heading to bed by keeping yourself busy reading your encyclopedia and circling your favorite creatures with coloured pens. The niffler section was covered in little pink hearts in case Fief ever checks. And learns to read.

You wrap one arm around her comfortingly and your breathing slows as you relax. It’s nice to drop off to sleep in a warm bed, by a warm fire on a cold night…

Fief knows before you do. One moment she is peacefully curled up on your stomach, then next she’s tangled in the quilt, erratically squealing and honking, accidentally scratching you as she tries to make a break for it.

“For goodness-” You throw the quilt off and Fief skitters onto the floor, dashing around the room in a panic. “What the hell is your problem recently?”

Then the hut starts shaking. The mugs in the cupboards create an awful symphony of ceramic on ceramic, your mismatched chairs doing a shaky dance around the table. The quaking causes stray embers to leap from the fireplace and onto the floor.

You snatch your wand off the bedside table and point it to the fire, putting it out immediately and dowsing the hut in darkness. Then you leap off the bed and make a grab for Fief, cradling her against you and diving beneath the table.

An earthquake? At Hogwarts? Didn’t the school specifically have spells set up to prevent this sort of thing? You were under the impression that the school was unaffected by even the most devastating of natural disasters.

Fief trembles wildly in your arms and unbelievably falls silent. Even as the table shuffles around above, you whisper comfortingly down to her, holding her tight and stroking her fur with your thumb, clutching your wand alongside her.

The shaking goes on forever. Your quilt falls off the bed at some point and the stool falls over. One of the cupboard doors swing wide open and bowls begin falling out, smashing onto the floor and their fragments end up nicking your back. Fief nips your arm once or twice but you don’t let her go.

The third time she nips you is when you realise it’s finally stopped.

“Sorry,” you murmur, loosening your arms. Once again she grabs some of your top with her bill and begins failing to drag you back under the bed.

You need to check on the reserve, but you can’t leave Fief on her own. So, in spite of her squealed protests, you come out from under the table and gather her up in your arms, refusing to give her an inch. You throw your cloak over yourself, pull your boots on hurriedly, and dash out of the front door.

Fief squirms relentlessly as you hurry down the rough gravel path from your hut to the reserve, but squeaks in confusion when you come to an abrupt halt.

The blackness of the sky above isn’t enough of a cover to disguise the enormous shape soaring through the skies, two massive wings beating desperately as Caramel flees Hogwarts, disappearing into the clouds. And to think he didn’t even wait for breakfast this time.

<>

There was a mad rush in the castle halls as the groggy teachers herded their students to the great hall, reiterating that there was nothing to worry about and for the love of Merlin to stop shouting over each other. The jack-o-lanterns still hanging in the darkened hall don’t do much to calm down the younger students.

Heimerdinger in a tiny, bright blue dressing gown isn’t something you can say you’ve ever considered. At least it helps him capture the students attention.

“Please remain calm everybody!” Heimerdinger calls out over the hall, standing on top of the staff table to project better. “There is nothing to be worried about! If any of you have suffered any injuries, kindly refer to the school nurse to be checked over!”

“We have a nurse?” you whisper to Mel, who is dressed in a simple, white, floor-length night dress. Her hair is no longer tied into her bun, and flutters out like a dark, golden-flecked cloud. She keeps glancing nervously down at your stomach, which is covered by your cloak. Fief is still thrashing around in your arms wildly, biting your arms desperately. However, she likes you too much to bite you properly, so it just feels like hundreds of weak pinches on your skin.

“Something like that.” Mel points to Singed, who has his moth-bitten cloak wrapped around him to deny anybody seeing his pajamas - if he was wearing any - being tentatively approached by a few nervous students who look like they’d rather take their chances of infection. “We’re awfully short staffed.”

“Especially tonight,” you murmur. By now the students have been shepherded into sitting at their house tables so Grayson and Silco can stalk around the hall and take attendance. Silco, for whatever reason, is dressed in his usual day attire. Grayson is the staff member who got the short end of the stick, dressed in shorts and a tank top that reveals a shockingly toned form that could rival Sevika’s, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

Speaking of Sevika… She isn’t here.

You glance around the room to find her - she isn’t exactly easy to miss. The ceiling displays the sky above perfectly, so you know there isn’t a full moon tonight. Perhaps she’d fallen asleep and hadn’t noticed the earthquake.

Jayce and Viktor are absent too. They’re situated near Ravenclaw tower so Mel ought to have knocked on their doors at least.

Before you can ask Mel anything though, the hall doors creak open, and all three of them troop in with Sevika in the lead and Viktor the last. He’s leaning heavily on his cane and his skin looks paper white. Jayce’s perfect hair is askew. All of them are dressed like they typically are during the day.

Silco finishes taking attendance of those in Slytherin and Gryffindor, then makes his way over to the late group. Sevika winces when she sees him coming and Jayce not-so-subtly tries to hide behind her. Silco whispers to them with annoyance, his voice low and his hands moving in furious gestures that you don’t understand.

Heimerdinger clears his throat. “I’ve performed a quick scan of the castle and it appears a few of our usual protective spells have faded tonight - as all things do with time! - and thus are the likely cause of this sudden quake. Thank you for your cooperation, you are all free to… Return…” He trails off, starting to fidget with the end of his moustache.

Uncomfortable mutters among the students create a tense atmosphere. Powder has abandoned her place at the Slytherin table to take up the spot next to Vi at the Gryffindor table, who has one arm wrapped around her protectively.

Mel clears her throat to encourage Heimerdinger to finish his statement.

“Erm, one moment!” Heimerdinger turns around to you and Mel, lowering his voice. “Perhaps it would be better if we stayed in here for tonight? As a precaution?”

“Do you really think that’s necessary?” Mel asks in a tone that plainly states she disagrees.

“If it was simply faded spells it wouldn’t be an issue, however… It hasn’t been so long since Miss Young…”

Once again he doesn’t finish his sentence, hoping you’re able to fill in the gaps. You can see where he’s coming from - a member of staff disappeared completely less than a year ago, and spells that have protected Hogwarts probably since the beginning have only just faded now?

Mel’s brows furrow in consideration. “It is your decision, Professor.”

Heimerdinger pauses, shuffling his feet under his dressing gown. It really is small, but still oversized on him. He turns around to face the student body once more, throwing his hands up into the air the way one might do when welcoming everybody to a grand party.

“For tonight, we’ll be having a sleepover in the great hall!” he announces merrily. The announcement is met with a clashing chorus of groaning, excited giggles, and a loud “Seriously?!” from Mylo.

From where you’re standing you see Sevika’s eye twitch and she shoves a hand into her pocket. To your surprise it’s Viktor who tiredly smacks her hand when he sees her pulling out a cigarette.

<>

The staff summoned sleeping bags from a retired storage cupboard in the dungeons, more than enough for all the students present. Strict house grouping had been relaxed for the evening and the students had huddled their bags into groups so they could whisper to one another.

Vi, Mylo, Claggor, Ekko and Powder have claimed the right corner of the hall closest to the door in a rough circle. One of them had snagged a jack-o-lantern with a particularly toothy grin to sit in the middle. Deckard, the blonde slytherin prefect, keeps scowling at those who choose not to remain with their house-mates.

“We’re in the hall,” he grumbles as he sits on the steps of the staff table platform nearby where he has his own sleeping bag set up. “We should be sticking with our own houses.”

Silco is sitting where he normally does at the staff table and flipping quietly through a clipboard of student attendance. “The distraction it provides is beneficial,” he murmurs loudly enough for Deckard to hear. Deckard frowns but doesn’t breathe another word about the matter for the rest of the night.

“Lights out everyone!” Mel announces. The teachers have all their own sleeping bags against the left wall. Jayce, Heimerdinger, Viktor and Grayson are already tucked in. Heimerdinger had tactfully decided the students would sleep better if Singed were allowed to sleep in his own room.

You on the other hand are standing outside the hall with Fief still tucked under your arm and your wand raised to the ceiling. “Accio,” you chant quietly, then tuck your arm back beneath your cloak. The distance might be a little much, and being inside can dampen the spell’s effect. “Hold still, Fief, I can’t cast properly if you’re squirming like mad!”

But Fief is inconsolable. Her nips are getting more painful and it’s difficult to keep a solid hold on her rounded body. Part of you wants to give you both a break and simply set her down to find somewhere for her to calm down but now that everyone is gathered in the great hall and nobody is around to keep an eye on their shiny valuables…

Would Mel be upset if you used her as a shiny distraction?

You grunt when Sevika pushes past you and scowl at her back. “There was so much room!”

Sevika doesn’t even have the grace to turn around and acknowledge you, let alone apologise. In return, you don’t grace her with a warning.

The book zooms around the corner and flies in your direction. Its break-neck speed doesn’t give it time to swerve around Sevika, who is now directly in its path.

You wish you could see the split second of realisation on Sevika’s face. She barely has time to raise her hands up to protect her face before the book collides with her, forcing her to grunt and brace herself to keep from falling over. Amazingly she manages to grab onto it, breaking your spell.

“For fuck-” she cuts herself and looks around wildly to check for anymore flying books. “What the hell?!”

You shrug your shoulders innocently, but it’s all for nought when Sevika looks down at the title of the book.

She blinks slowly before her expression becomes familiarly stormy, her brows knitting together and her lips being pulled back in an irritated snarl. She marches back up to you and shoves the book into your chest, making Fief squeak. “Yours?”

Your hand shoots out quickly from under the cloak to snatch your creature encyclopedia. “Whoops.”

Sevika growls and turns around again to continue storming off to wherever, her poncho flourishing dramatically. At this rate Sevika would be in constant fear of the sky - first birds were being set on her, now books could start falling from the sky. The thought brings a satisfied smile to your lips.

It falls when Fief changes her target. “Don’t bite my encyclopedia!” you gasp, a hidden battle taking place beneath green fabric.

The darkness of the great hall and hushed whispers among the students make your struggle all the more embarrassing as you wrestle with Fief all the way over to your sleeping bag.

“Viktor,” you wheeze, “drugs please.”

Jayce rolls over in his bag to hide a smile and Viktor, who had already fought his way into his sleeping bag, wearily points to a little satchel bag Jayce had fetched from his room earlier. You were privy to the knowledge that Viktor would sometimes take some sleeping draught to help him drift off if his legs seized up or ached more than usual.

Mel notices you cringe as you realise you’ll have to drop either Fief or the book to grab the potion - dropping Fief could result in disaster, dropping the book would emotionally pain you - and kindly takes it upon herself to rummage through it with delicate hands until she produces a large bottle with a rounded bottom, only half-full of dark purple substance.

Jayce starts and rudely snatches it from Mel’s hands. You and Mel stare at him.

“Ah- Sorry,” he stutters, handing it back awkwardly. “I thought it was something else.”

With effort you kneel down onto your sleeping bag and angle yourself to put the book harmlessly to one side. Then, with your arms still well-covered by the cloak, you wrangle Fief down onto her back, one hand on her stomach and the other holding her head so her bill won’t nip.

“I know it doesn’t look like it right now, but we’re very close,” you reassure Jayce and Mel breathlessly. Mel hesitates but uncorks the potion bottle, tipping it slowly over Fief’s bill that you squeeze the sides of to make her open wide.

“No more than a few drops,” Viktor mutters. He isn’t even watching the commotion, only his head of hair and the back of his head visible from how much he’s tucked himself in. Snug as a bug in a rug.

Mel obediently pours a few precious drops directly into Fief's bill. They fade onto her tongue and your jaw drops when her thrashing ceases almost right away.

“You drink this regularly?!” you gape towards the back of Viktor’s head. “How long is that going to last?”

“Mm, considering her size… She may not wake up.”

“I will feed your cane to snakes.”

“Yes, yes, she’ll be up tomorrow morning. Perhaps early noon.”

<>

The fountain in the centre of the courtyard continues to run even at this time of night. The water may still be flowing well after Heimerdinger’s time; perhaps it hadn’t stopped since the very first time you’d stepped off the Hogwarts Express.

The square ledge surrounding it provides a good place to sit and you’re happy to take it up, settling with your back to the water and crossing your legs. Then you take out your precious reading material, stroking a finger affectionately down the leather spine.

Flipping the book open, you drag your finger slowly down the contents page to find the ‘Hippogriff’ chapter, then shift through the pages in search of it. It was a bad time to go anywhere near Tinker but you’d be foolish not to take the opportunity to grasp a vague direction of where to go next with her.

You can smell Sevika before you can see her -she’s become synonymous with the scent of smoking. You regretfully shut your book again when she approaches.

Is she still in a bad mood? She still has bags under her eyes, not nearly as bad as when she was going through the werewolf cycle, but still noticeable. She isn’t smoking now though. Is the smell

“I need that potion I gave you back,” she states plainly. “I saw you still haven’t put it back in my office.”

“Oh, sorry.” Truthfully you were half-hoping Sevika had forgotten all about that. You still needed it. “I’ve left it in the hut. I could ‘accio’ it but I don’t want to break it.”

“Well get it back first thing tomorrow,” she demands. You see her left hand fiddle beneath her poncho to go for the cigarette pocket, then fall away again in a surely heinous exercise in self-restraint.

“Why do you need it so bad? Did you hurt yourself? Can’t you get another one from Silco?”

“Silco’s in a shit mood with me right- none of your business,” Sevika corrects herself. “Just get it back to me.”

The way Sevika’s left hand continues to rub the edge of her pocket doesn’t escape you. It also hasn’t slipped past your notice that Sevika exclusively used muggle-cigarettes and cigars. There are plenty of magic-branded cigarettes which promote not being harmful or nearly as addicting as the muggle sort, typically marked with coloured rings all around them. You recall seeing one of your old muggle-born coworkers being stuck on the addictive muggle brands though.

“Smoking muggle-cigarettes seems like a hassle,” you say, unprompted. “Don’t potions to combat the negative effects usually have to be commissioned?”

Sevika stiffens and her nostrils flare. A few more weeks and maybe you’ll have conditioned her to do that whenever you walk in the room. “I didn’t ask your opinion. If you ever think it’s wanted, it’s not.”

You lean forward on the fountain ledge curiously. “Is that what you use the potion for?”

“Also none of your business.”

“Why would you give it to me if you needed it?”

“I didn’t know I’d need it or that you’d take so damn long returning it! Quit being so nosy.” She squints. “Why do you still have it anyway? I thought you only had a few scratches.”

“None of your business.”

“I gave you my potion for it, maybe it is my business.” She holds up her left hand before you can disagree. “I actually don’t care- shit…”

Sevika retracts her hand quickly back beneath her poncho but you’ve already caught a glimpse of a large black bruise that stands out even on her dark skin. She scowls when you jump up from the fountain ledge and put the encyclopedia to one side, miraculously forgotten.

“Leave it!” she snaps to no avail.

“How the hell have you done that?” you ask incredulously, ignoring Sevika’s protests and reaching tentatively for her poncho. Her undamaged arm shoots out and her hand wraps around your wrist firmly.

“I said leave it!” she growls - really growls - and she wrenches your wrist upwards, forcing you closer while keeping you from feeling around any more. She bares her teeth fiercely and her warm breath brushes against your cheek. “You don’t see me getting up close to you, do you?”

You blink a few times, then glance back and forth from Sevika’s hand around your wrist and her narrowed eyes. She frowns and loosens her grasp, letting you stagger backwards. You automatically go to rub your now free wrist but she didn’t grip it hard enough to really sting.

“Merlin, you’re touchy,” you mumble under your breath. You could swear you see one of her ears twitch in the split second before she takes a swipe at you. You take another quick step backwards to avoid her, but her hand catches on the bronze buttons of your cloak.

You smack her hand away hurriedly and turn all the way around to hastily do the buttons back up but Sevika has already seen it.

“Hang on.” You squeal when one hand lands on your shoulder and forcefully turns you back around to face her. “Just some scratches, huh?”

“It’s fine,” you mutter, unable to move away with Sevika’s restricting hand.

“Did you get attacked? Don’t do that, let me look,” she orders as you attempt to wriggle free again. Now that you’ve seen the bruise she doesn’t continue trying to hide it, and uses her other hand to push your cloak back. She takes a sharp intake of breath at the state of you.

You don’t blame Tinker one bit for the deep, purpled scars that run over your chest, or the bruised pecks she’d left on your arms like she’d tried to take a chunk out of you. They are unfortunately visible with only your black tank top as a cover now. You shrink back slightly when Sevika tries to run a finger over one of the bruises on your arm.

“That sensitive?” Sevika frowns at the marks. “This is what you wanted my potion for? You’ll need something much stronger than that. Ask Silco.”

“I didn’t want to bother anyone.”

“You bothered me.”

“You don’t count.”

“Hmph. Did you use ‘episkey’ on it at least?”

“Mine isn’t very good,” you admit. “And I didn’t bring a cauldron to brew some healing stuff for myself.”

There’s a pause as Sevika digests this. Then she sighs and pulls her wand out of her other pocket. “Mine’s alright. Sit down.”

In the next moment you’re sitting back down on the ledge. Your cloak has been taken off and folded up next to your book, and Sevika is leaning over you as she holds the tip of her glowing wand over your injuries, murmuring under her breath. She isn’t leering down at you and doesn’t even scold you when you wince, or make a comment when you whimper pathetically at the stinging feeling.

“You’re fine,” she mutters gruffly when you kick the fountain with the back of your shoe in reaction to the spell making contact with a particularly tender scar. “Talk to Silco tomorrow about getting a potion made up. He won’t ask questions, if you’re worried about the hippogriff.”

You’re not surprised she’s realised the real reason you didn’t ask for help earlier. “Is that why you guys get on so well?”

“Usually. Get him to make you a batch if you’re going to be doing this sort of thing regularly. Hogwarts doesn’t need any more bad press.” Sevika quickly takes her wand away when you let out another pained hiss, then hovers the tip over again more slowly. “If you’re worried about wearing him out you could knock off another ingredient on that list he gave you. What did he want again?”

She’s making you think to keep you from focusing on the pain. “Silco wants unicorn blood and dragon liver. He wasn’t specific about what kind of dragon, but it’s not like I’m going to find one in the forest.”

“But a unicorn is more likely?”

“Oh yeah, there’s definitely unicorns in - ow - in the forbidden forest, although they might have moved to some of the further reserves.” Actually, with all the creatures acting up, they may have retreated even further. “Have you noticed the creatures or animals acting weird?”

Sevika shrugs. “Owls haven’t been delivering mail for a couple days. Heimerdinger put it down to poor weather.” Finally she lets the tip of her wand go out. “Better?”

“Better.” You look down to see your scars and bruises have faded just a little bit, and you’re much less sore than before. “I was gonna read up on hippogriffs to see if I could do something about Tinker.”

“If it’s willing to do that to you, maybe you should keep your distance. Is it all the creatures acting up?”

“Yeah, think so.”

“Then what good is reading up on just her going to do?”

“No, she was acting off before all of this,” you say quickly, grabbing your encyclopedia and flipping to the hippogriff page. “She won’t eat fish.”

“... Is that it?” Sevika asks tiredly.

“I mean she’s more skittish than your average hippogriff and her nests are an absolute mess but that’s because she’s on edge all the time. She’s pretty traumatised - Viktor and I suspect she came here after escaping being hunted. Hippogriffs are obviously part bird so fish is a big part of their diet, but she absolutely refuses to eat any.”

“Horses can’t eat fish can they?” Sevika interjects. “Maybe she’s just more horse than bird.”

“I heard they can in certain regions,” you say vaguely. “I don’t know much about them. She also won’t eat ferrets, but she’ll wolf down steak.” You scan the hippogriff page quickly. “Baby hippogriffs are averse to fish from certain waters, but she’s definitely an adult. And unlike regular baby eagles, they’re better suited to cooked meat rather than raw.”

“Was the steak you gave her cooked?”

“Yeah, but the fish and ferrets weren’t. But she isn’t a baby,” you emphasise in frustration, dragging your finger over the page in search of answers. “I could understand it if she was pregnant but…”

Sevika tilts her head as you trail off. “What?” When you offer no response, instead giving the page a prolonged blank stare, she slaps your cheek lightly. “What is it?”

You shake your head and turn the page, frantically tapping the tips of your fingers against the paper. “I haven’t been able to get a good look at her stomach,” you mutter. “If she’s the type of hippogriff to lay eggs then she would have done it ages ago. But she’s been here for almost a year.”

“How long does a hippogriff pregnancy take?” Sevika asks. She seems to have forgotten how much she doesn’t care about the subject.

“In good conditions, about sixteen months. Oh, here we are - ‘in months leading up to labour, mothers may refuse food typically accustomed to their diet in favour of eating food more suitable for their young until they give birth. Similarly this may occur when the mother is in a stressful environment and is anticipating an early-induced labour.’”

An awkward silence follows your quotation from the book. Sevika opens her mouth, then shuts it in surprise when you slam the book shut and slam it hard against your forehead.

“What the fuck did you do that for?!” she demands.

“For being stupid!” You leap up from the ledge and stuff the encyclopedia under your arm. “I need to find her and check if she really is pregnant - I need to bring her cooked steak too, but I’m not sure if the kitchen is open… And, and-”

“-And Heimerdinger will lose his mind if you go out into the forbidden forest in the middle of the night when the creatures are acting up and we’ve just had an earthquake.” Sevika picks up your cloak and hands it over to you, ignoring the way your face falls. “Leave it until Silco has made you some potions. If she really is pregnant and panicking, you might not get off so easy the next time you get up close to her.”

“... Sure,” you say. Your tone is too chipper for Sevika’s liking.

“I’m walking you back to the hall.”

“What- Why?” you whine.

“To make sure you go there and stay there. I’m sick of you wandering off to go wherever has the highest chance of taking your head off.” Sevika steps forward, then stops and stomps her foot on the ground. “Come on…”

“What is it?”

“There's fucking seeds in my shoes. I don't know where they keep coming from,” she grumbles, crouching down to take her boot off and shake it empty. You look down and pretend to inspect the buttons of your cloak.