Chapter Text
It didn't rain very often at Ilvermorny, which was why Liam always cherished the rare light rains when they came. He would dit back and indulge in the soft lull of rain and wind. Even now, as they traveled somewhere deep in the hills of Scotland, he was grateful for the steady downpour outside.
He looked out the train window, barely able to make out the green hills through the sheets of rain. The storm made the walls of the compartment creak with each sway, causing the glass to rattle loudly against the frame. He glanced down at the small bundle in his arms— his little brother Caleb, wrapped snugly in Liam’s robe, fast asleep despite the clattering noise and rain battering the windows. The rhythmic tinkling of the rain was oddly comforting.
After a few more minutes, Liam felt Caleb stir. His brother blinked owlishly up at him, his big blue eyes gradually focusing on the window and then back at Liam.
"Sleep well?" Liam asked softly, biting his lip when all he got was a small nod in return.
Caleb, nearly five years old, had always been a quiet child— more reserved and shy than any of the other kids Liam knew, not that there were many. But Liam couldn’t help wondering if that quietness was his fault. He knew, deep down, that all the chaos he had brought into their lives— the reckless decisions, the consequences that followed— might have carved that silence into Caleb.
He hadn’t meant to hurt him. But guilt was a constant now, settling in his chest like a weight he’d grown used to carrying. Caleb’s wide, cautious eyes and wordless dependence only seemed to drive the knife a little deeper. Used to the lack of conversation or any sign Caleb might drift off again, Liam gently shifted him onto the seat beside him. They both turned toward the window, watching the rain ease into a gentler drizzle. The hills rolled by, endless green pastures and thick clusters of trees looming on the horizon.
“Look, Li,” Caleb said, pointing out the window. His small finger traced the tracks ahead, where the rails disappeared into a wide, dark lake. Without another word, Caleb curled back up beside him, resting his head against Liam’s side and clutching his robe with a small hand.
It was as if he could sense Liam’s unease — and this was his quiet way of offering comfort.
---
Hogwarts was a beautiful place.
Even with ruins scattered around the castle grounds, it stood tall, strong, and imposing under a clear sky, with only a few clouds drifting lazily in the distance — as if daring anyone to try and bring it down. Liam ducked his chin into the collar of his cloak, gripping Caleb’s hand a little too tightly when he felt his brother curl against his side.
The weather here was much colder than it ever had been at Ilvermorny — colder, damper, and far wetter. None of it was familiar to them. Liam exhaled a puff of air, watching it curl into the wind, just as a group of red-tied students pointed in their direction and murmured among themselves. He wrinkled his nose, burying it deeper into his cloak at the rude gesture.
The closer they got to the grand doors of the castle, the heavier the stares became. Caleb tugged at his hand, lifting his arms— asking to be picked up. Once Liam had him securely in his arms, Caleb buried his face in the space between his shoulder and neck.
All around them, curious eyes burned into Liam’s back as they walked. He tried to tell himself it was only natural— seeing someone arrive with a child wasn’t something that happened every day at any magical school. It made sense they’d draw attention. Still, knowing that didn’t make being watched any more comfortable.
“Hang in there, kiddo,” Liam whispered into Caleb’s blond curls. Caleb gave a small nod, then rested his cheek on Liam’s shoulder, peeking out at the castle again. When they finally reached the entrance, Liam tried to look over the crowd, stretching his neck a little. As he stepped to the side, he accidentally bumped into a boy passing by. “Ah—sorry,” Liam said quickly, stepping back.
The boy turned. Platinum blond hair fell over most of his face, but not enough to hide the sharp glance he gave Liam — and then Caleb. Without a word, he gave a curt nod and moved on, vanishing into the crowd.
“Mister Hale.”
Liam turned and found himself face to face with a tall woman in long green robes embroidered with beautifully intricate gold pattern. Minerva McGonagall— one of the most respected witches of their time and the current Headmistress of Hogwarts— didn't smile, but her expression softened as she waited for them to approach.
Liam hesitated for a second, wondering if he should put Caleb down and introduce them properly. But the thought of setting his brother down after such a long, exhausting journey— especially surrounded by so many people— made his arms tighten instead. Caleb was quiet against his chest, clearly worn out. Liam offered a small, polite smile instead.
“Headmistress, I’m Liam, and this is my brother, Caleb Hale. We— we’re very grateful for the chance to attend Hogwarts.”
McGonagall nodded, stepping aside and gesturing with a subtle movement of her hand for them to follow. “There’s nothing to be thankful for, Mister Hale. I’m simply pleased to see that you and your brother arrived safely.”
The hallway was beginning to empty, most students already inside. A few stragglers hurried past, offering sheepish smiles in McGonagall’s direction as they rushed to the ceremony.
“But there is so much to be thankful for, Headmistress. The letter—”
“That’s something we’ll discuss in my office,” she cut in smoothly, giving him a long glance that made him nod instead of insisting in the tipic. It was inusual to feel like he didn't have to thank for the help. People usually on the streets weren't so kind.. “You are familiar with the Houses that represent our school, I presume?”
Recognizing the dismissal, Liam shifted Caleb to rest more fully on his hip and shook his head. “No, sorry. I’ve only noticed the different colored ties and robes...?”
She nodded, her eyes scanning the lingering students in the corridor, her expression quietly observant. “There are four Houses at Hogwarts, each representing the traits of the four great witches and wizards who founded the school: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin.”
They stopped in front of a massive set of open doors, through which came the loud buzz of student chatter and laughter.
“The House you’re sorted into can say a lot about your personality, Mister Hale,” McGonagall continued. “But it does not define you. Here at Hogwarts; you may find that you are much more than any one label.”
Under her steady gaze, Liam felt as though she was looking through him — seeing things he hadn’t even put into words yet. She nodded slightly, as if satisfied by something unspoken, and this time, her smile was more genuine.
“You’ll be sorted after the first-years and before the Welcome Feast. You and your brother will be placed in the eighth-year quarters, and you will attend all classes required for your N.E.W.T.s — though we’ll speak more about that later. After the feast, I’ll meet you here at the entrance to guide you to my office. Understood?”
She didn’t wait for a response, instead motioning once more for him to follow her into the Great Hall. The space was awe-inspiring. Four long tables stretched the length of the hall, filled with students. The ceiling above looked like the night sky — black and endless, speckled with stars. Candles floated above the tables, casting a soft golden glow across the room.
Caleb lifted his head from Liam’s shoulder, eyes wide with wonder. The expression on his face reminded Liam of the first time he had set foot in Ilvermorny. That same sense of awe — but this time it felt different. Like something new, something unknown, was stirring in his chest.
McGonagall continued on toward the head table, walking calmly through the parting crowds of students. Liam stepped aside to get a better look at the hall — and bumped into someone for the second time that day.
The first thing he noticed was a pair of clear green eyes, watching him with curiosity. The second was a mop of black curls, just barely hiding the faint line of a scar on the boy’s forehead. The boy quickly averted his gaze, turning to the tall redhead beside him, who was talking animatedly with big hand gestures. People around them leaned in to whisper as they passed. A girl with bushy brown hair rushed by, already carrying a stack of heavy books despite it being the first day of school, and joined the pair without hesitation.
Looking around again, Liam guided Caleb to sit on one of the benches near the end of the closest table. He set his brother down beside him, both of them turning to look toward the far end of the hall, where a stool sat in the center of a raised platform.
Resting on it was an old, worn hat — quiet for now, but clearly waiting.
---
Almost at the end of the Sorting Ceremony, Liam tried to suppress a glare when a couple of yellow-tied students pointed toward his brother. Caleb’s messy curls had shifted from pitch black to a soft blond— for the second time in the half and hour it took for the Sorting Hat to go through the new students, it was a subtle change, but one that always drew attention.
Caleb seemed unbothered by the furtive glances. He was too busy gasping every time the enchanted ceiling exploded in fireworks of house colors as each new student was sorted. McGonagall carried on with the sorting effortlessly, her voice steady as she guided the youngest to the front. The Heads of House sat at the staff table, applauding politely with every new addition to their house. If Liam was being honest, he had zero interest in the rest of the ceremony. His palms were sweaty, and he kept rubbing them nervously against his pants. The more time passed, the more anxious he felt.
He glanced around, trying to distract himself. It seemed like the second- and third-years were leading the applause, their enthusiasm contagious, helping the new students feel welcomed.
When a little redheaded girl was sorted into Hufflepuff, the table erupted in cheers. Caleb clapped along with them, giggling joyfully and pounding his small hands against the table. Liam blinked in surprise at the wide smile on Caleb’s face — the kind of smile he hadn’t seen in a long time. His heart eased.
Another student was sorted into Hufflepuff, and the crowd exploded into another round of cheers. Caleb's hair changed to a soft golden blond, glowing under the candlelight. This time, Liam couldn’t hold back his own smile. He clapped along with Caleb as they waited for the final student to be sorted into Gryffindor. Once the small boy took his seat, McGonagall raised her hand, and the hall fell silent.
"Finally," she announced, "we have an exchange student joining us this year. Hale, Liam."
Liam took a shaky breath, stood, and reached for Caleb’s hand. His little brother walked beside him without hesitation, his grip firm and steady.
Murmurs rippled through the four house tables as they made their way toward the Sorting Hat. Liam knew what they were whispering about— an older transfer student arriving with a child. That kind of thing didn’t happen at Hogwarts, or any magical school, for that matter. He couldn't blame them for being curious. If the roles were reversed, he’d probably be whispering too.
When they reached the stool, Liam took a seat. Caleb stood beside him, still holding tightly to his hand. That quiet presence gave him more courage than he cared to admit.
McGonagall placed the hat on his head.
“How interesting…” The voice came from inside his head — raspy and ancient, yet oddly gentle. Liam blinked, startled for a second before remembering the stories. The Sorting Hat. “So sad, too,” the hat mused. “I can feel the anger in your heart. So much joy taken away. But still… you have talent. A cunning mind.”
Liam clenched his jaw, hands gripping the edge of the stool to resist the urge to rip the hat off. “Thank you,” he replied curtly in his mind, deciding to ignore the hat’s comments.
“Cases like yours are very curious, Liam Hale,” the hat continued, now quieter. “Full of hope, a desire to prove yourself… a deep yearning for justice. Tell me, boy — would it be worth the sacrifice?”
The question caught Liam off guard. His brows furrowed. He glanced down at Caleb. Those green eyes — the exact shade their mother once had— stared back at him. For a moment, a small voice in the back of his mind whispered of other paths he could have taken, other things he could’ve wanted from life. But as he looked into his brother’s face, everything settled.
Yes. It would be worth everything.
If it meant giving Caleb a better future — a life filled with safety and magic and belonging — then it was worth all of it.
The hat gave a long, low hum, almost mournful, as if it had already known his answer. “I see…” It whispered. “I wish you well, Liam Hale. The house you belong to is… SLYTHERIN!”
The last word echoed through the Great Hall.
Liam lifted the hat from his head with trembling fingers and passed it back to McGonagall. She gave him a curious look — something between calculation and warmth — before nodding and gesturing toward the Slytherin table, where students in green-trimmed robes welcomed him with mixed expressions.
He took a seat at the far end of the table, Caleb beside him. The whispers around the hall were fading now, conversations slowly resuming. Up the table, Liam spotted the blond boy he had bumped into at the entrance. The boy’s head was bowed, and he didn’t seem to be talking to anyone. Liam frowned slightly but didn’t dwell on it — not when the feast appeared before them in a rush of magic.
“Liam!” Caleb gasped, eyes shining as he pointed at the dishes appearing before them. “Liam, can we have some?”
Liam chuckled, reaching over to brush Caleb’s blond curls from his face. “You’ve got to eat something besides dessert, remember?”
Caleb pouted, but nodded in agreement. Grinning softly, Liam reached for the nearest serving dish and began preparing a plate — roasted chicken, steamed vegetables, mashed potatoes. Caleb dug in immediately, happily munching away. Liam had just started filling his own plate when a student across the table offered him the mashed potatoes with a small smile.
“Hullo. I’m Elias Archer,” the boy said, tilting his head politely as Liam accepted the dish.
“Nice to meet you, Elias. I’m Liam, and this is my brother, Caleb.” Liam pointes to his side, Caleb glanced up and gave a tiny wave before returning to his food.
“Which school are you transferring from?” a girl beside Elias asked, flicking her long black hair over her shoulder.
Liam raised an eyebrow. “Ilvermorny — it’s in America.”
“Americans,” she said, as if it were a condition, not a nationality. “You’ve definitely got an accent.”
He hummed in response and served himself some mashed potatoes.
“Were you expelled from your old school?” Elias asked, curiosity lighting up his face.
Liam snorted. “No. Definitely not expelled.”
The girl narrowed her eyes. “Then why are you here?”
Liam met her gaze coolly. “It’s considered rude to ask personal questions before introducing yourself, don’t you think?”
Her face turned bright red. “I— I’m Angeles. Angeles Jones,” she spluttered, earning some quiet laughter from nearby students.
“Well, Miss Jones,” Liam said evenly, “why we’re here is none of your concern.”
Elias let out a giggle, quickly covering it with a cough. Angeles huffed, turning away and muttering to the girl beside her.
But Elias wasn’t done. “Why did they let you bring your little brother?” he asked, eyes wide. “I thought Hogwarts didn’t allow anyone under eleven — not even purebloods.”
Liam paused, glancing at Caleb, who was still happily chewing his food. Liam’s own appetite had mostly disappeared — his mouth was dry, and his stomach felt heavy. He pushed his plate away and poured himself some tea. A few seconds passed in silence.
“It’s just me and Caleb now,” he said finally, voice quieter than before. “Headmistress McGonagall was kind enough to let us attend together.”
Elias nodded solemnly, as if sensing the weight of those words. Liam appreciated that he didn’t push further. A few students at the Ravenclaw table had gone quiet, clearly eavesdropping, but Liam chose to ignore them.
He smiled softly and cut a piece of tart from the dessert tray. “You’re a second or third year?”
“Third year!” Elias said proudly, his grin returning.
“That’s perfect. We’ll need help finding the Slytherin common room. Right, Cal?”
Caleb paused mid-bite to nod seriously. “Please.”
“I can help!” Elias beamed. “I know a bunch of shortcuts too.”
Liam chuckled, just as Caleb reached into his pocket and offered Elias one of the cookies he’d swiped from the table earlier.
“Thanks!” Elias said, taking it without hesitation and immediately biting into it.
---
By the time most of the students were finishing their meals, the noise in the Great Hall had begun to rise once more. Laughter, chattering, and clinking cutlery filled the space again, and Liam paused mid-sentence with Elias when he noticed McGonagall rise from the head table.
Instantly, the conversations stopped. Heads turned toward the Headmistress, attention sharp and immediate.
Liam gently wrapped an arm around a dozing Caleb, who had leaned against his side, his cheeks slightly flushed from all the food and sweets. There was something so profoundly comforting about knowing his brother was well-fed and safe — Liam felt at peace, at least for a moment.
“Attention for the following announcements, please,” McGonagall said clearly, her voice cutting through the hall with ease. “All school repairs will be carried out during weekends to avoid interruptions during class time. If anyone wishes to volunteer for the Reconstruction Committee, Mr. Filch will post the schedules for the repair groups in each Common Room by tomorrow morning.”
A heavy silence followed — a kind of stillness that hung thick in the air.
McGonagall took a deep breath before continuing: “For students who are repeating their seventh year — the Eighth Years — you will be relocated to the West Tower in the Bell Tower Wing. You will all share a single Common Room.”
At that, Elias shot Liam a slightly disappointed look, pouting. Liam chuckled softly but turned his attention back to the podium.
“The war took much from us,” McGonagall said, her voice solemn but unwavering. “Friends. Family. Dreams. But we will not let that stop us. In the spirit of unity, and to rebuild our school — to show the younger students the example we wish for future generations— we must not allow the war to leave deeper divides in our hearts.” A pause was made as her eyes sweap around the hall. “Hogwarts will rise from the ashes with your help. This year, new ties will be formed between the Houses.”
As her words echoed through the hall, a wave of emotion rippled across the room. Many students stood to clap — some with teary eyes, others hugging their friends, grieving silently for those they'd lost. Some just smiled, grateful to be here at all.
Across the hall, Liam clapped quietly with the rest of the Slytherin table, careful not to wake Caleb, whose head now rested against his chest. As the applause filled the room, he glanced toward the Gryffindor table.
There, he noticed the boy with the scar — the one he’d bumped into earlier — whispering furiously to the red-haired boy and the bushy-haired girl beside him. The three of them turned in unison to look toward the Slytherin table.
Liam blinked, his clapping slowing. He couldn’t help but wonder.
Who were they looking at...
---
Liam and Caleb remained seated at the Slytherin table, waiting for McGonall to finish speaking with the other teachers. By that time, most of the younger students — those below fifth year — had already left, guided by the House Prefects to their respective Common Rooms.
Liam’s arms ached from carrying Caleb around all day, and the fatigue from several sleepless nights weighed heavily on his shoulders. He was, without a doubt, exhausted.
Elias had already gone off with the rest of the Slytherins — at Liam’s insistence. The boy had promised to find them the next morning so they could have breakfast together. He’d said goodbye with a hesitant grin before disappearing into the dungeons with the others.
Even the platinum-blond boy from earlier had vanished as soon as the feast ended.
Some older students still lingered, chatting and catching up on their summer breaks. As Liam watched them, he couldn’t help but miss his own friends back at Ilvermorny. He hoped they were okay. Maybe even thinking about him — Daniel’s bright, constant smile; Hidaiss’s calm, grounding presence; Fin’s unshakeable confidence. Liam missed them more than he wanted to admit.
But he couldn’t reach out. Not without risking everything. Not without giving away where they were.
With a quiet sigh, Liam flicked his wand, casting a gentle warming charm over himself and Caleb. The magic settled over them like a soft blanket. Caleb let out a small sigh in his sleep, shifting only slightly. Liam smiled faintly and leaned back, trying to let his muscles relax. He was so focused on Caleb that he didn’t notice the footsteps until they stopped right behind him.
Liam turned slightly, tensing. Three boys in Hufflepuff colors stood there. He didn’t recognize them.
“Can I help you?” he asked, loosening his grip on his wand and sliding it casually back into his pocket.
“I’m Zacharias Smith. These are Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie Macmillan. We’re Eighth Years,” said the boy in the middle — Smith — as he pointed at the others on either side of him. “You’re the American, right? We just wanted to be the first to welcome you both to Hogwarts.”
“Thanks—” Liam started, but was cut off.
“It’s a shame you ended up in Slytherin,” Finch-Fletchley added, smirking. “Not exactly the best people to be around these days.”
“I still can’t believe McGonagall let them come back,” Smith said with a frown, his tone just short of disdain. He leaned closer to Liam, lowering his voice as if to share a secret. “You’ve heard about the war last summer, right? Like Justin said... the snakes? Not exactly trustworthy.”
“McGonagall still let them return,” Macmillan muttered, sounding more uncertain than the other two. “There must be a good reason for that.” Smith scoffed but didn’t respond.
Liam had to fight the urge to laugh.
They really thought he cared about whatever house drama Hogwarts was still dealing with? Smith reminded him far too much of the boys from Ilvermorny — the ones who thought being in Thunderbird made them superior. Different school, same arrogance. And the way he talked about Slytherins, like they were some kind of disease... It rubbed Liam the wrong way.
“Anyway,” Finch-Fletchley continued, “it’s nice to meet you. I figured they’d try to get to you first.”
“Right,” Liam said flatly. “Nice to meet you.” He stared at them without smiling, letting the silence stretch.
After an awkward pause, Macmillan cleared his throat. “We could walk you to the West Tower if—”
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Macmillan.” All three boys jumped slightly, turning as McGonagall approached from behind them. “I’ll personally escort Mr. Hale to the Eighth Years' Common Room,” she added, her tone brooking no argument.
Liam stood immediately, adjusting Caleb in his arms without a second glance at the Hufflepuffs. “This way, Mr. Hale,” McGonagall prompted, and he followed her silently out of the Great Hall. Still, he couldn’t shake the faint itching at the back of his neck— the feeling of being watched as they walked out the door.
McGonagall led him down a long corridor lit dimly by torchlight. The flickering flames cast long shadows along the stone walls, and the only sound for several minutes was the echo of their footsteps. Liam didn’t mind the silence. It gave him space to think. But a question had been lingering at the back of his mind for weeks— long before he ever stepped foot in Hogwarts.
“Headmistress,” he said quietly, clearing his throat when she glanced at him. “Hogwarts... it’s independent from the Ministry, right?”
“That is correct,” she replied calmly.
He hesitated. “Does the Ministry… know about us? About Caleb?” There was a tremble in his voice he couldn’t quite hide.
“They don’t,” she said softly. Her voice was reassuring, almost gentle. “You don’t need to worry about that right now, Mister Hale.”
Liam nodded— more to himself than to her — and continued walking.
Eventually, they came to the end of the hall, where a tall stone gargoyle stood in front of a spiral staircase. McGonagall leaned forward and whispered something to it. The gargoyle moved aside, and the stairs began to spiral upward as soon as Liam stepped onto them.
---
McGonagall’s office was one of the strangest and most intriguing places Liam had ever seen. Like many things at Hogwarts, it seemed to have a will of its own.
The large circular room was surrounded by tall windows overlooking the rolling green hills beyond the castle. Portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses lined the walls, each watching the room with curious, sentient eyes. Liam’s gaze swept over the towering bookshelves, stacked so high they nearly touched the ceiling. Silver and gold instruments floated gently on levitating shelves, ticking and puffing little clouds of smoke, spinning as if powered by the magic of the room itself.
All of the portraits had turned to look at them the moment they entered. One in particular drew Liam’s attention.
With a small, breathless laugh, he approached the desk at the center of the room — and there, on the right side of Hogwarts’ line of succession, in the third-to-last portrait, hung the likeness of Albus Dumbledore.
“Liam,” the portrait spoke with warmth, his painted eyes gleaming, “It’s so good to see you, and so well.”
Liam smiled, blinking back tears. “It’s an honor to finally meet you, sir.”
“You’ve grown so much. And little Caleb too.”
A nearby chair slid across the room, stopping in front of Dumbledore’s portrait. Liam shot a grateful glance at McGonagall before sitting down, gently shifting Caleb to reveal more of his face to the portrait.
Dumbledore’s smile softened. “He looks just like Laura,” he murmured, voice thick with memory. “And you — you're the image of your mother.” Liam stepped closer as Dumbledore’s expression grew wistful, his eyes distant, as if peering back through time. “I’m very sorry for what happened to your family, Liam,” he said softly. “We are all a little less for having lost them.”
“But more for having known them,” Liam replied instantly, the words escaping before he had time to think. Dumbledore’s eyes shone at that, his expression shifting into something almost paternal — like he wanted to reach through the canvas and rest a hand on Liam’s shoulder. Maybe even embrace him. Liam would’ve let him. It had been so long since anyone but Caleb had hugged him.
“They would be proud of you with how far you'd come,” Dumbledore said quietly.
Liam’s throat tightened. Just those words —they’d be proud of you— were enough to bring the tears dangerously close to the surface.
“I’m sorry I didn’t respond to your letter sooner,” Dumbledore continued. His expression grew heavy, weighed down by old guilt. “I regret not doing more when I had the chance.”
Liam shook his head. He knew the truth. Even if Dumbledore had wanted to help, the war had already been at his doorstep. There was only so much one man — even a man like him — could do.
“Please don’t apologize, sir,” Liam said, bowing his head, gripping the fabric of his robes tightly with one hand. Dumbledore had died just months after Liam sent that letter. And yet, here he was, still trying to comfort them. “We’re grateful,” Liam rasped, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Just to be here now.”
Dumbledore’s gaze turned tender. “Laura and Rodrigo were two of the most skilled wizards I ever met,” he said with a quiet reverence. “But more than that — they were my friends. I met them on a trip to America, long ago. Laura was one of the Aurors investigating a case involving magical creatures running amok in New York. Your grandfather, Rodrigo, was a rookie. They met during that case… and fell in love.”
Liam smiled faintly. He knew that story by heart. He’d grown up with it — heard it whispered a hundred times in the soft hush of night, from the other side of Caleb’s bedroom door. His mother would tell it to calm his brother down, and Liam would listen too, comforted by the rhythm of her voice when sleep refused to come.
These days, when the nights stretched long and cold, he missed those stories more than anything.
“I knew they had a daughter shortly after I returned to London — your mother, Talia,” Dumbledore continued. Then, with a faint smile: “Did you know they asked me to be her godfather?”
Liam’s surprise must’ve shown, because Dumbledore chuckled softly. “Ah yes. Little Talia. So small, the first time I held her. Another regret… not getting to see her grow. But I’m sure she was an exceptional witch.”
“She was, sir,” Liam replied, pride swelling in his chest. “She was Head of the Unspeakables… in the Department of Mysteries. I— I only found out after—” he faltered, unsure how much he should admit. "But she was."
“I wouldn’t have expected any less of her,” the old wizard said kindly. And though his eyes were still shadowed with grief, there was something lighter in his expression now.
“Thank you,” Liam said after a pause. “I know our situation isn’t ideal, but I promise — I’ll make you proud.”
“I know you will, Liam,” Dumbledore said, fondness in his voice.
It was at that moment that Caleb stirred, blinking awake and looking around groggily.
“Hello, Caleb,” Dumbledore greeted warmly. Caleb startled at the voice, his hair turning a soft white in surprise. Liam noticed the glint in Dumbledore’s eyes as he asked, “When did he start changing, Liam?”
Liam smoothed down Caleb’s curls. “Just after his first birthday, sir.”
“Can he fully change?”
Liam hesitated. It was always a hard topic. “Not fully,” he admitted quietly. “Mostly just his hair and eye color — it depends on his mood.”
Caleb squirmed until Liam set him down. The boy wandered over to the shelves, reaching on tiptoe for a massive book on the fourth row. Dumbledore watched, amused, his painted brow arching as Liam gave a little shrug.
Just then, McGonagall reappeared. Liam flushed under her sharp gaze as she flicked her wand. The chair he sat in glided smoothly toward the desk.
“Have a biscuit, Hale,” she said, gesturing to a tray.
Liam took one quickly, startled by her casual use of wandless magic. He took a bite and flushed deeper when his stomach let out a loud growl. McGonagall hid a smirk behind her teacup. He took another biscuit — just for that.
Then, McGonagall cleared her throat and set her cup down.
“Like all students, you’ll be sharing a Common Room with others in your year,” she began. “I understand this isn’t unusual for you, given Ilvermorny’s system. Only a handful of students have returned for the Eighth Year, so you’ll be placed in a dormitory with one of them. We’ve already arranged for a larger bed to accommodate you and Caleb.”
Liam blinked, swallowing thickly.
“During your class hours,” she continued, “Caleb will be in the care of our Head Nurse, Madam Pomfrey.”
“That’s—” Liam choked out, his voice cracking. “Thank you, Headmistress. This is… more than I could ever ask for.”
McGonagall nodded. But her expression sobered.
“There’s another matter, Liam,” she said gently. “A minor cannot legally be the sole guardian of a child.”
Liam’s blood turned cold. He had expected that from them, but not once he was there and didn't have a choice but to accept that.
“No—please,” he said quickly, panic surging in his chest. “You can’t—he needs me. We need each other. Please don’t take him—” He was spiraling, his breath coming too fast. He couldn’t lose Caleb. Not again. Not after everything.
“Liam,” Dumbledore’s voice came, calm but concerned.
McGonagall circled her desk and knelt beside him, taking his hands in hers. “Breathe, Liam. Just breathe.” He followed her lead, slowly sitting back as his panic eased. “We’ve made arrangements,” she said once she deemed him calm enough. “Your case will not reach the Ministry until your eighteenth birthday. By then, you’ll be of legal age, and they’ll have no grounds to remove your brother.”
They held each other’s gaze for a long moment. Liam could hardly believe what he was hearing — this… this kindness.
He didn’t trust himself to speak right away. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, blinking hard and looking down at his lap when he felt the sightly burn on the corner of his eyes, he closed them tightly for a moment before pulling himself together to stare back at McGonagall again “Thank you,” he whispered, finally after a long silence. “I know I’ve said it already, but… thank you. I can’t explain how much it means that we get to stay together.”
She nodded, the corner of her lips turning up just slightly before calling out, “Maggs!”
With a soft pop, a small house-elf appeared beside her desk, eyes wide and sparkling with excitement. Her ears flopped as she looked between them, hands wringing the hem of her little knitted dress.
“Maggs will be in charge of looking after Caleb,” McGonagall explained, “in case Madam Pomfrey is ever occupied with a student.”
Maggs nodded so quickly her ears bounced against her forehead. “Maggs will take very good care of young Master Caleb!” she said, her voice high and earnest. “Maggs will come the very moment Master Hale calls for her! Maggs will be here, always ready!” She bounced on her toes as she tried to look at both McGonagall and Liam at once.
Liam couldn’t help but smile. He held out a hand toward her. Maggs hesitated for only a moment before taking it, her long fingers gentle around his. Her eyes grew even wider, shining with emotion as he said softly, “I’m counting on you, Maggs. Thank you.”
For a moment, she just stared at him in awe. Then her eyes brimmed with tears.
“Maggs is honored! Maggs would love to help Master Hale and young Master Caleb!” she burst out, beaming through a crooked smile full of odd little teeth.
“Thank you, Maggs. You’re dismissed,” McGonagall said from behind her desk, her voice still firm but kind.
Maggs gave Liam’s hand a small squeeze, bowed so deeply her nose nearly touched the floor, and vanished in a whirl of magic. Liam was still watching the spot where she’d disappeared when Dumbledore’s voice rose again from the portrait behind McGonagall.
“We have one more bit of news we hope you’ll be pleased to hear, Liam.”
Liam glanced up quickly, heart already tight in his chest. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take without breaking down — but he nodded anyway.
“Your falcon,” Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eyes.
Liam gasped.
McGonagall’s smile was wider than before — not grand, but proud and a little amused. “He’ll be waiting for you at the Owlery first thing tomorrow.”
The breath that left Liam’s lungs was shaky and full of emotion. He couldn’t speak — not right away — so he just nodded, blinking fast. McGonagall raised her teacup in a quiet salute.
“Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Hale.”
---
The 8th-year Common Room was located in the West Tower, far away from the others. McGonagall had said it was to give them some peace in their final year. It made sense to Liam.
The space was larger than he'd expected — cozy but still full. Mismatched couches were scattered across the room in a chaotic harmony of colors: emerald green armchairs beside scarlet red ones, a deep blue couch patched with gold and orange pillows. The banners of all four Houses hung at the entryway, a quiet symbol of unity. It was... odd, but not unpleasant.
It was also full of students.
Liam scanned the room quickly, noting how conversations dimmed and eyes turned toward them as soon as he stepped through the archway with Caleb in his arms. He kept his gaze straight ahead, jaw tight, walking toward the dorm hallway like he hadn’t noticed.
He passed Smith, Finch-Fletchley, and Macmillan by one of the fireplaces, standing with a few students in Ravenclaw blue. Smith’s eyes met his for a second. Liam looked away and tugged his robe tighter around Caleb, ignoring the hush of whispers trailing behind them.
His only focus was the bed waiting upstairs.
He read each engraved nameplate outside the dorms until he found theirs— the very last door at the end of the hall.
Liam Hale — Caleb Hale.
Draco Malfoy.
Liam exhaled slowly, stared at the name for a beat longer than necessary, bracing himself he opened the door.
Inside, the dorm was small but private. Two beds, one larger than the other, separated by a curtain. It reminded him so painfully of his old dorm in Pukwudgie House that his chest ached. That space had been loud, messy, chaotic — but it had been his. Fin, Evan, and Daniel... he missed them more than he wanted to admit.
Draco Malfoy was already inside.
He hadn’t realized who Draco Malfoy was — not during the Sorting, not during the feast, not even through the whispers and glances. But now, standing in front of the door with Caleb shifting slightly in his arms, the realization clicked into place. Malfoy was the first person he’d bumped into when they arrived at the castle. The platinum blond hair. The stiff posture. The cold flash of gray eyes before the boy had walked off without a word.
And now they were going to be roommates. For the rest of the year.
Liam didn’t know what to think about that — not exactly. But something about the boy intrigued him, if only because of the quiet, unreadable air around him. It wasn’t the name or the way people looked at Malfoy that caught Liam's attention. It was the silence. The mystery. Like Malfoy was always holding something just out of reach.
Draco Malfoy lay on his back on the far bed, a book floating above him with quiet ease. He didn’t look nearly as closed-off as he had at the Feast. He looked... calm. At peace.
Liam stepped in quietly and let the door close behind him. He crossed to the larger bed and gently set his bag down, then laid Caleb down, the boy stirring softly as he did.
“Hey, bud,” Liam whispered with a small smile as Caleb’s eyes blinked open. “Time to change into your pj's, alright?”
“Sleepy,” Caleb mumbled, tugging Liam’s robe tighter around himself.
“I know, Cal. Just for a second, then you can go right back to sleep.”
He worked quickly and gently, changing Caleb’s clothes with practiced ease. All the while, he felt Malfoy’s quiet gaze flicker toward them, watching silently as Liam tucked his brother in.
“So,” Malfoy said finally, still looking at his book. “You’re the exchange student everyone’s been talking about.”
“I am,” Liam answered simply, casting a Silencing Charm around their bed before turning back. “Liam Hale. Nice to meet you.” He said it even though they’d technically already met during the Sorting.
Malfoy nodded once, his eyes briefly flicking toward Caleb. “They didn’t say you were bringing a kid. Thought I’d end up with two roommates — not a child.”
Liam’s posture stiffened. He didn’t want a fight, not tonight — but if Malfoy had a problem with Caleb... “He’s my brother,” Liam said evenly. “He’s quiet. He won’t bother you.”
Malfoy shrugged. “Just don’t let him go through my stuff, and we’ll be fine.”
Liam gritted his teeth, biting back the sharp response rising in his throat. “He won’t.”
“Good,” Malfoy muttered, turning a page and ending the conversation.
Liam exhaled slowly through his nose and turned away, exhaustion settling into his bones. Without another word, he began unpacking. Their clothes were few — neatly folded into the wardrobe they’d share. He lined up his books on the bedside table and finally reached into the bottom of the trunk.
Wrapped in the last scarf his grandmother had ever knitted him, he pulled out the photo frame.
It was a little worn now, the corners soft and the colors faded — but the muggle photo was still his most treasured thing. His parents on their wedding day. His father had insisted on taking it without magic, just once. It had caught the exact moment his mother was laughing in his father's arms, her smile bright, their eyes full of nothing but love.
Liam traced the edge of the frame with a thumb. If he closed his eyes, he could still hear their laughter. The way they’d say "I love you" every time they parted ways and their "I missed you" at the end of every day when they got to find each other again, like a habit they never wanted to break.
A sudden rustle made him flinch — Malfoy’s bed curtains snapping shut.
The sound jarred him back to the present.
With a quiet sigh, Liam changed into his night clothes and slipped the photo beneath their pillow. He climbed into bed and gently pulled Caleb close, settling the blankets around them. Caleb shifted in his sleep but didn’t wake. Liam watched the soft rise and fall of his brother’s chest, listening to the little breaths.
He closed his eyes.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, the silence wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t cold.
He didn’t even notice the familiar burn in his palms.
That night, Liam slept dreamless.
---