Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If dying was one of the worst things Rene has ever felt, being born again right afterward surely took first place.

The oppressive heat followed by bone-chilling cold, the wet stickiness that clung to the body like a second skin. It all made him nauseous beyond words. Flashes of green veins and an angry red membrane pushed themselves against Rene's eyes like snippets of some archaic vision, one that he could not run from like a pathetic mortal crushed under the gaze of some benevolent god.

He felt so...small and clumpy as if his being was held together with wet clay that with one wrong move would send his body crumbling. Rene whirled in someone's hands, arching from side to side like some distressed reptile, seeking to detach himself from the onslaught of feelings and sensations.

In a moment of clarity, the young man realized that his ears were being prodded by the distant echoes of some distressed individuals whose voices he didn't recognize. His body, which by now felt like some pathetic, wet lump was bound by an oppressive force that squeezed him whole, not unlike the membrane, yet it was courser, rougher at the edges and distinctly foreign.

Sleep began to once more pull him under, tugging his consciousness down into the murky waters of oblivion that he was just yanked out of.

Through the haze of slumber, Rene had come to face the overwhelming and insurmountable truth that he had just been reborn.

[...]

This whole situation was absolutely ridiculous. So many years of listening to those absurd religious teachings, going to church every Sunday and none of those things came in handy after death. Rene stared blankly at the ceiling, the feeling of betrayal and utter pointlessness stewing away in his tiny heart.

He did not end up meeting God upon his death. Neither was he currently getting smothered by angry demons down in the fiery pits of hell, nor was he confined to a white room in the midst of purgatory, made to scramble for forgiveness at the feet of some deity.

Instead, he was laying down in the middle of a ratty blanket, and gated away from the rest of the world by the supple pillars of a wooden crib. His body, once tall, lithe, and full of courage brought by his newfound status as an adult was reduced to a pudgy roll of baby fat. All he could do was breathe, eat and shit.

He could cry, but god he was not about to demean himself even further.

Oh lord... maybe this actually was hell. Or purgatory for that matter.

Well, the person gazing down on him certainly didn't look like a demon though. The woman was tall, her face thin and white. As the vibrant light of the early blue noon grazed her hairline it send the golden hues of her curly blonde locks spiraling down her features like a halo. Her nose was pointy and hooked at the base, further reinforcing the sharp eagleness of her features, only strengthened by the thinness of her lips and the sharp edge of her blonde brow. She looked maybe in her mid-twenties.

"You're a strange one aren't you?" She said, the woman's adenoidal voice was muffled by the cloud of smoke she exhaled out the window. "No crying, mumbling, nothing. The nurses thought you were dead." Pressing the cigarette to her lips she looked down at Rene. Her eyes were a powdery shade of pale blue, sharp, just as everything else about her. Tentatively she reached down into the nursery and ran the tip of her finger down Renes' brow, her skin was rough but warm. Rene felt the way his baby-thin eyebrows shifted under her touch.

"My kid...you look a lot more like him than me though..."

Oh. Now that was interesting. He could feel his eyes widen slightly. Talking about the father for sure. Rene couldn't recall seeing any man though, certainly not being held by one. Did he leave her? Or he could have died. Though it didn't seem like it as his new mother's face was absent of any grief when mentioning him.

Ever since he woke up Rene had to stifle the soul-crushing guilt that came with inhabiting some stranger's baby. Because, well, if he was here then where on earth was the newborn? Did the original child just get thrown into the eather to be replaced by some random 19-year-old? The fact that he apparently didn't have a father came as a positive in that regard as he didn't have to feel guilty over stealing a baby from two people but instead just one. He didn't even want to think about the whole "God" thing because as far as he remembered he didn't see anyone after dying. Do all people reincarnate or was he a special case? Is he meant to fulfill some kind of destiny in his new life? And why on earth are his memories still intact? Doesn't that kind of negate the whole reincarnation thing?

"Go to sleep." she tutted, pressing the cigarette numb down onto a crystal ashtray on the window sill. Rene watched as the light of it flickered and died with a quiet crunch of tobacco and a hiss of smoke. The woman closed the window, cutting the sounds of a semi-busy street. Then she turned around with the ashtray in hand and in a blur of golden locks left the room.

He realized then, that she had just talked to him in English and with a remarkably British accent.

Huh. Now that was interesting.

[...]

Being a baby, as mentioned before, was very boring. Rene was glad that most of it was spent sleeping though even then his dreams were bizarre at best and tragic at worst. Glimpses of his past life as Rene Pokorny, a 19-year-old Slovakian high school graduate repeated in his dreams like a broken record. Sometimes the dreams would be of his family, his father's green eyes, and the sound of his mother's jewelry as it clicked and rattled as she walked. Sometimes he would wake up to the pungent smell of ash and cigarettes, ready to write it off as his little sister doing as she would often blow the smoke outside only for it to drift off into his open bedroom window.

But it wasn't her. Never her. It was his new mother.

Isabella Tallhill, as he came to find out, was the name of the blonde woman and subsequently his mother. Rene wasn't wholly convinced she knew how to actually take care of a child, let alone how to keep one healthy as she smoked in his presence and seemed to be not at all bothered by the secondhand smoke that didn't make it past the window. She also, on numerous occasions came into his room drunk, slumping over the crib she would tickle the top of his head with her long fingers, giggle a bit, before passing out on the nearby sofa.

In the morning, he could do nothing but lay there and listen to his mother wretch all that alcohol out and onto the nursery floor. It did provide him with a little sliver of satisfaction though, it's not everyday you get to see karma work it's magic so well.

And so his life drifter onward, blurred by the haze of cigarette smoke and his baby fueled exhaustion. About three months in, however, Rene realized that there was something distinctly odd about his new body. It was as if some kind of cool, metal sphere was always lodged below his chest and right above his supple belly. It wasn't there physically, not really, it felt more like a conviction he had that just wouldn't go away. Kind of like when you focus on a particular limb and all of the sudden you feel the blood rushing through it or it suddenly starts to itch.

One time, while in the midst of that state right before sleep his mind slipped once again to that cool sphere. Seeing the image of it clear as day in his mind he reached out and poked at it. It buzzed against his probing, wriggling, and coiling like a globe of liquid mercury. Then it reached out and a surge of pure strength gripped Renes' body for a split second before the connection was broken by his own startled gasp. He was left shaking slightly, lying in his crib in the dead of night, the moon lonely on the pitch black sky hovering behind the frosted-over window. Disgruntled and a little afraid he reached for a scruffy teddy bear he (in a stroke of genius) called Medved' and begrudgingly went to sleep.

That was definitely not normal.

And it wasn't, because a couple of days later weird things would happen again. With the same sphere no less. Isabella, probably out drinking, was not there to change Renes' diaper, so the tiny man was left there to marinate in his own pee for what felt like hours in that boring crib. Annoyance and frustration build inside Rene quickly until it all climaxed into one of the most spectacular things the reincarnate has ever witnessed.

On account of his aggravation, the cold sphere coiled itself before spreading down his body. It shot into his diaper and vanished the annoying wetness completely.

Now, after that particular moment, one might begin to panic a little.

Acher had suspected something was wrong with the world he had reincarnated into, but it mostly had to do with the fact that up to that point he had not seen even a single smartphone, no headphones, not even a laptop. He had speculated that maybe the family was just that poor, yet when he finally got to leave his room for a medical appointment the mystery kind of solved itself. He was stuck in the past. Maybe the 60's or 70's judging from the looks of the vehicles, the kitchen appliances and the black and white tv standing in their living room.

Yet all of that still did not explain how on earth he could use the strange spehere lodged in his body.

Now... he did have an inkling though.

Rene was never a huge fan of Harry Potter, the series was something he read fully once and then maybe watched the movies twice or three times, using it mostly as background noise. Needless to say he was familiar with the lore mostly through the internet discussions other fans had online, which were in a lot of way more interesting than the actual source material.

It was, in some ways, a ridiculous thought that he could have been transported into that universe upon his death. I mean, he had no real proof besides that one time he managed to magic away his own pee.

Yet that thought satyed, and it festered.

Britain, the past, the magic.

It was all so perfectly slotted together, like puzzle pieces.

And Rene knew that sphere of magic within him was as real as the blood drumming away in his veins and as real as the world he found himself in.

[...]

By the time Rene could crawl, poking and probing at the sphere became as natural to him as breathing. Reaching out no longer necessitated a meditative state or much focus really. The ball also expanded subtly to match his growing body.

Another thing that he found out was his new name. Acher Tallhill. Quite the name for sure. When he first heard it while at a medical appointment he scrunched his nose, it sounded too important for him. Like the name of some diety or perhaps a celestial body. He would come to find out however that the name very much suited his new skin.

It was right before his nightly bath when Isabella placed him gingerly on top of a washing machine to check the temperature of the water. It was the first time he would bathe in a "grown-up" tub. While the woman was distracted, he accidentally caught his reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror.

He almost fell off the washing machine.

His face, heart-shaped and soft was framed by short golden locks that spun around in tight frilly coils. The boy's eyebrows thick and equally blonde contrasted against the subtle darkness of his honeyed skin.

He met his own eyes, two marbles of such deep brown they shone like obsidian, curtained by the feathery slope of golden eyelashes.

Acher turned his face from side to side in bewilderment. He had monolids and light brown skin. He bit his lip with the fold of his bare gums, it was plump, with a defined cupid's bow and more of a square arch at the bottom.

Good God, if he looked so pinchable and cute while barely a toddler what would he look like later in life? That part of him that still clung to being Rene was fiercely jealous over what he saw. Rene Pokorny was by no means handsome. With black hair that his mother forced him to cut short, thin lips and eyebrows, and unimpressive dull green eyes he didn't stand out from the crowd even if he tried. He was too angular, too grey.

Acher's features commanded attention, his blonde locks spinning around his face as if orbiting the nexus of his smooth black optics. It pulled you in, trapped you in those eyes.

He certainly looked like someone with such a noble-sounding name.

[...]

Isabella seemed to fall deeper into her alcoholism as the days went on. Acher could only thank the powers that be that she did not grow more violent. She was more of a 'sit down and watch tv with a bottle of beer in hand' than 'I use my kids as a punching bag' kind of drunk. He also deducted, from the very hard-to-find clues(papers spread all over the kitchen table as well as the coffee table) that Isabella was a fantasy writer.

A very good one at that, Acher concluded from the few times he got to sneak a peak at her work.

As the woman passed out more and more often the small blonde was free to explore the run-down flat and get familiar with all its nooks and crannies. Their apartment was situated at the cusp of Salisbury, squished between two larger buildings, overseeing a small lake and another round of houses. The walls were an old baby blue, furniture ancient, clearly passed down to Isabella from her relatives, same as the silverware, delicate wine glasses and wide intricate carpets.

It was fun to crawl around, poking and prodding at the different furniture, looking out the glass balcony doors to the lake, and sticking his hands into the potting soil of some dead plants he found in the living room.

Acher rolled a dead leaf between his chubby baby fingers. Was the plant a Peperomia? He mused to himself. The subtle heart shape of the crumbling leaf as well as its thickness would indicate so. Rene had a passing interest in plants in his past life, but he was more of a succulent type of person, narrowing his interest down to a smaller section of flora.

Staring at the willowed flower he could help but whisper to himself: "Could I fix this?" he didn't know if magic in the wizarding world worked like that. He knew wizards could regrow bones and other parts of themselves but tending to plants? There weren't any spells he remembered regarding herbology. Maybe besides creating water, and that is a whole other can of worms. He would have to tackle that in the future for sure.

He reached for the sphere and felt it react instantly to his wishes. Its energy expanded and with one firm jab lodged itself into the bottom of the pot. Not a second passed before the plant exploded, and a gust of soil washed over Acher's face and hair.

Coughing and sputtering the boy laid the massacre Peperomia back onto the ground.

Well, that was a complete failure. He kind of knew what he did wrong though. After all, plants are such delicate things and with how eager he was the jab of his magic felt like a downright attack on the tiny thing.

"Too harsh, too eager," he whispered wiping his nose.

Tilting his head back to the light and crossing his arms he began to ponder.

"I need to get some basic spells down before I try to revive a plant. What were the easiest ones again? Leviosa? Or was it Lumos?" he pursed his lips. There was no way he was not going to get on that magic stuff as early as possible. Spells were just such intricate and fascinating things, it baffled him that any wizard would be too lazy or too preocupied with other things to learn magic. I mean, it's magic?! How could anybody be bored? How could anybody not want to do it?

To be frank he hasn't even thought much about why he can use magic at such a young age in the first place. It was clear that what he was doing was not just accidental magic, he has control over the sphere he just doesn't know how to properly use it.

Well, Acher guessed it all just came down to the one thing special about him. The fact that he was a nineteen-year-old stuck in a child's body. Younger wizards were probably just too unaware of themselves to even think about their magical core.

After some more thought, he decided that trying to cast a Lumos first was a good idea. He crawled out of the living room, past the sleeping Isabella, and into his mother's bedroom. Wriggling into her old wardrobe he shut the heavy ornate doors after himself so he could drown in total darkness. Acher squirmed a little between the stray pairs of shoes and old boxes before setting down on a small pile of moth-ridden blankets.

Raising the tip of his forefinger he reached into his sphere and focused on guiding its erratic reach through his chest and up his right arm. On multiple occasions, he had to stop to get the magics' incessant wriggling under control, as if he was steadying a rowdy child back onto its feet. When the reach was almost at his palm his control slipped and a flash of light shot through the skin of his hand, searing his eyes.

"Fuck!" Acher hisses, pressing his palms to the tender slope of his lids. "Ugh, why is it so hard to pull it through?"

He kept going, stubbornly pulling the magic from his core until his chest ached. The light, although there, kept dimming and flickering all over his hand. Finally, after his frustration built up, he gave it one final push and with a red face spiked the liquid mercury to the tip of his finger. Blinding light encompasses the small space, a white sheer searing the center like a star, spilling vivid shades of red, blue, and orange at the cusps. He sat there mesmerized, Acher felt like he was balancing a celestial body on his finger.

Then it died and the strain the spell put on his body ended up being too much. He fell asleep in the comfortable darkness.

[...]

After that incident he kept practicing, jumping into the wardrobe when Isabella would inevitably fall asleep in front of the television after punching in a couple of measly lines on the typewriter, a bottle of whiskey nursed under her arm.

Soon, he could keep the light on for more than a minute and extinguish it with a comfortable and quick Nox. The Nox spell was laughably easy compared to Lumos itself, his magic snapping back to his core upon command like a rubber band.

After he could hold it for 5 minutes he started to experiment. A fascinating discovery was made when he realized he could change the color of the light when squeezing the drip of magic in appropriate places. Squeeze at the very tip? You get red. Go slightly lower and you have a nice orange shade. The colors continued down and down until cusp of his elbow where the spark turned a deep lavender.

He would sometimes bring Medved' with him into the wardrobe and pretend the bear was in a nightclub, flashing the colorful lights above its head.

Hm. The baby brain might be influencing him too much.

[...]

After yet another party with Medved' he emerged from the wardrobe and strutted through the flat on unsteady feet. He was a couple months early to be learning to walk but his mother probably just rationalized it as him being an 'early bloomer'. Acher was suspecting she just didn't know enough about babies.

She was there, of course, slumped over the backrest of the couch with a bottle of beer clenched in her palm. The tv was relaying the result of some random sports competition in the background.

While passing the living room Acher couldn't help but sneak a peek at some of her work, so conveniently stewed over the coffee table. Grabbing the nearest paper he began to read.

"The elven woman stepped onto the blackened stone slope, her hand curling around the hilt of the heavy obsidian sword at her side. It was well past noon, reddened spikes of distant sunlight turning the hills stretching in front of her a burgundy shade-"

'This is good.' Acher thought, eyebrows raised in slight bewilderment. You would think that a woman who did practically nothing but drink and vomit would barely be able to string together a sentence. Yet she proved him wrong, every time he managed to get his hands on some of her drafts it's been nothing but compelling.

He raised his from the work and nearly had a heart attack upon meeting his mother's blue eyes staring right back at him.

Flinching, he dropped the paper, it fluttered and slowly dipped to the hardwood floor.

They stared at each other in silence until his mother scoffed. "You're weird."

Acher looked around, unsure.

"I know what a baby looks like, what they act like. I had a sister you know? She was a real pain in the ass when she was little." Isabella adjusted her crooked pose on the couch, the popping of her bones ringing in the room with her every shift. "They cry, vomit all over the place, and get angry at you for every little thing." she squinted. "But not you."

It was as if her every word made a metal clasp pull tighter and tighter around Acher's heart. Was she onto him? What would she do even if she knew? Give her child away to the police?

Would they even take him? Acher's brows furrowed despite himself. He imagined a ridiculous image of his tiny, barely a-year-old self in handcuffs being pushed into a police car by an officer.

"No. You don't act like a kid," she whispered, making the tiny blonde hairs at the back of his neck stand alert.

"And thank God for that." she exhaled and slumped against the couch.

Oh.

"I don't think I can stand any crying children. I'd probably go fucking insane." hissing, she presses her fingers to the mound of her nose. She sighed, "you're a good kid Acher, even if you're fucking weird and won't make any friends because of it."

Acher leveled her with the flattest look his baby face could muster.

Isabella laughed, her giggles quite melodic despite her rough voice. "Come here kid." she patted the spot next to her. Hesitating a little, Acher padded over to the couch and heaved himself onto it. He notices that the bottle of beer was sitting, unprotected on the sofa and quickly propped his hand up against it so it wouldn't fall over and spill.

Isabella noticed that and barked out another laugh "Starting early kid?"

The blond's eyebrows furrowed in distaste before he slapped the bottle and sent it spilling over the sofa and onto the floor.

"Shit- This stuff is expensive!" the woman cursed and Acher could do nothing but smile.

[...]

Wingardium Leviosa was way trickier. It involved his magic leaving his body through the tip of his finger and shaping itself into a thin thread. He would coil that thread around like a snake, adjusting its size and shape. And doing any of that felt like he was running a marathon. Acher could also not see the thread at all, he could only feel it, subconsciously knowing where it was moving as if he was operating an invisible limb.

Using that thread to pick up anything was even more torturous. The thread was weak and anytime he coiled it around something and tried lifting he would have to add more volume to the limb. But adding more volume only made his chest ache further. For now, he would move small toy cars across his room, their tiny wheels made the strain a little less pronounced as they moved easier.

"Come here." He whispered, wrapping the thread tentatively around the volume of the vehicle and tugging it towards him. The car moved, albeit slowly and with a tiny squeak of rusty metal.

Acher felt his muscles spasming a little with how hard his entire body was clenching. Though he also felt the metal sphere in his chest humming ever so slightly, drumming a pleased exacerbated hum. When the car was at his tiny folded feet he let the thread pull back into his finger and magic snap back in place.

Heaving a sigh he leaned back on his hands.

Acher was two years old now. Not much has changed in that time if not nothing. Isabella was still drinking, cursing like a sailor, and failing to finish any of her drafts. He began to worry as time went on. He was relying on Isabella, she had to make a good living for his life to be stable, at least until he went to Hogwarts.

Ah. Hogwarts.

Acher picked his nose with his pinky finger. Starting at the dusty chandelier in the living room with bored eyes.

What will that be like? It was 1962 which meant, if his memory was correct, that he would not be meeting Harry Potter. But then, that left the other characters. Like his parents, for example, his roudy godfather and future death eaters. To be honest he still wasn't 100% sure if he would be meeting anyone or even going to Hogwarts. He hasn't seen any other wizard, not even a stray owl sweeping innocuously through the sky. It was as if he was completely alone.

And in a way he was wasn't he?

His eyes drifted, watching a tiny spider build its web between two black arms of the metal chandelier.

He was alone, not only because of his magic but because of his reincarnation. As if he was a survivor somewhere on a dreary island in the middle of the ocean. Drifting aimlessly, isolated forever.

He was two years in and every day made the option that this was all just an elaborate dream drift further and further away from possibility. Thus, this was his life. Shrouded in mystery.

Coiling his magic he forced another thin thread to expand from the tip of his finger and wrap around the chunky volume of a small toy tractor. He tugged and like a dog on a leash the object followed his command.

At least he had this. This was for certain, the sphere lodged in his chest never failed him.

Chapter Text

It was an average Thursday. The sun was hanging still upon the wide expanses of the satin sky, politely warm as the hour of 12 suggests.

Acher was spending that particular day, face down on the grass, smushing his entire body to the earth as if beckoning a tectonic plate to sweep him under the soil. At that point, due to his stillness, several ladybugs have made their home on the reincarnates back, wiggling themselves between the folds of his knitted orange sweater.

What was he doing? Well, perfectly normal things a kid is supposed to do during recess in their kindergarten's backyard. Like a mouse worming its way into a small hole, the boy extended his tight coil of magic right out of his chest and pierced the appendix through the dirt, constricting and expanding its metallic body. The sensation was...peculiar. In a way, it reminded him of just sticking his regular hand into the dirt but that soon turned out not to be the case. As he traveled down, bumping against rocks and pieces of broken glass his magic came upon a faint buzzing-like sensation. Curious as to what it was, Acher twisted his magic into a tighter string and followed the vibrations.

Huh. It was a worm.

A small, unassuming creature, eating its way through the mounds of dirt and other waste, coiling and releasing its small gooey body like a flimsy yet effective spring. Acher hesitated for a moment before tentatively reaching his magic to the creature, poking its side. He felt the worm wobble and still. Its body was cold and moist, like a cobbled pavement of a rainy day. Just more rubbery. The worm kept still, like a man contacted by some higher being, awaiting judgment. Feeling a bit bad about it Acher retreated his magic back into himself, not wanting to disturb the wildlife even further.

And just like that, trouble came.

The blond got startled out of his musings by the distant yelling of children coming his way. Reluctantly, he picked himself up from his rather comfortable position, patting off frills of stray grass off his shorts and sweater.

"What are you doing?" the squeaky voice of Paul, a scrawny 5-year-old with which Acher shared the same year. The boy's wide blue eyes stared at him from behind round spectacles. Behind the brunette stood two of his friends, Tallhill didn't remember their names though.

"Relaxing." Acher shrugged.

Pauls's pudgy face scrunched, he didn't seem to believe him. "Yeah right. You're always 'round doing weird things." he spat. The reincarnate wondered where all that spitefulness came from and how on earth it fit into such a small body. Suddenly the other boy's face lit up in a smile as the two of his friends snickered behind him. "Why do you look like that anyway?"

Acher arched his pale brow. "Like what?" Was there still grass in his clothes, in his hair?

"Like that." Paul proceeded to squint his eyes, dragging them back with his fingers. His two buddies burst out laughing.

Tallhill could do nothing but stand there, absolutely gobsmacked. These were children, barely reaching 6 years of age. Acher knew this was something they picked up from their parents and just regurgitated but it still left him completely stunned.

"Hm." He hummed to himself, shaking out of the stupor. "Better teach 'em young." he proceeded to punch the other boy so hard in the face that his two friends needed to help him get to the infirmary as Acher snapped his glasses in half.

He got in trouble for it, of course, almost immediately as Paul came running to their teacher claiming that Acher hit him for no reason. The supervisor, bless her heart, knew better than to take the boy's words for granted and interrogated Tallhill about everything that happened. He didn't come out of the situation unscathed, the teacher gave him a long lecture about 'maturity' and 'self-restraint'. She took pity on him though, as she didn't call his mother and even gave him a piece of candy by the time their talk was over (after he promised not to do it again of course). He could see that she was sympathetic although she couldn't necessarily say it. Paul wasn't so lucky, his mother came to the kindergarten with her face red from embarrassment as she dragged the boy back home.

The candy Acher got was mint flavored. Not the most suitable flavor to hand out to children but Acher wasn't a child.

That day he found out he quite liked mint.

Not many of these types of situations happened after that, not in kindergarten at least. Though that stunt seemed to completely alienate him from every other kid in his year, they acted as if he would hit them just out of the blue. They viewed him as some type of megalomaniac and the rumors got so bad even the older kids started to avoid him.

So his days were spent alone, although maybe that was for the best. He was already growing tired of sitting around, counting lemons on lemon trees or pears on pear trees and then summing them together. God forbid they made him color in those damned lemons afterward. By the time they moved on to apples and division Acher was scribbling quadratic formulas on his paper trying to keep his brain from melting out of sheer boredom. The worst part of that was that the teachers saw his behavior as him being either too stupid or too erratic to finish his work as he kept handing in either empty worksheets or completely incomprehensible ones.

All that combined, plus his rather lackluster attempts at manners and not the greatest sitting posture caused him to develop a weird reputation within the facility.

A...delinquent? Something like that. Can children this young even be considered delinquents?

Well, children's imaginations really helped in crafting that bizarre image. It got to a point where one time a seven-year-old Angelica came up to him during recess and straight up asked him to beat up another girl from her class.

Acher stared at Angelica with owlish eyes, the two pieces of chestnut he was turning into miniature hedgehogs falling out of his grip. "And why would I do that?" he asked.

"Don't act stupid! We saw what you did to that Paul kid. I just want you to do it to Maya." Angelica twirled one of her long pigtails in her hand.

The blond sighed, picking back up his arts and crafts project and dusting it off with nimble fingers. Carefully he re-adjusted the googly eye that came slightly askew as the glue hasn't dried yet. "Just because I can do something doesn't mean I will."

The girl's face scrunched in annoyance. "You sound like my dad. Old."

Acher shrugged. "I don't remember having a kid, sorry. Plus we don't look alike."

Angelica tapped her foot on the carpet, face turning a shade redder before she burst out. "Are you going to do it or not!?"

The blonde sighed, placing his two hedgehogs next to the blunt safety scissors. "Why do you want me to punch her anyway?"

"She stole my boyfriend!"

Oh boy.

Acher dragged his hand down his face. "How?"

"She gave him a paper tulip, and he accepted it! I saw him give her a kiss in the hallway." to that the girl's eyes fell to the floor, lips wobbling.

"But he was your boyfriend before that?"

She nodded.

"Does Maya know he was your boyfriend?"

Angelica shrugged her shoulders.

"Well," he crossed his arms. "It's not fair to dump all the blame on Maya like that. I think you should first talk to her about it, if she didn't know then you can both beat your ex-boyfriend up."

The girl's eyes lit up like stars. "Oh!" she gasped. "That's a good idea!" Angelica twirled in place for a couple of seconds, waving her arms as if formulating the plan in her mind. Then she dipped down and placed a wet kiss on Archer's cheek. "After I beat him up, you can be my new boyfriend Acher!"

"No thanks." he refused with a straight face.

She pouted, crossing her arms. "You're no fun." flipping her pigtails she ran out of the room. "I'll go find Maya now! Bye Acher~!!"

"See ya." the boy got straight back to gluing broken matchsticks to the hedgehog's backs.

Later that day he heard from two gossiping lunch ladies that two girls from the oldest group were sent to the principles office after they beat a boy up in their class and then made him eat a pack of dried-out crayons.

Surprisingly a little more creative than what he would have gone for.

Thankfully no one traced that back to him this time.

[...]

Of course his encounter with blatant racism couldn't be a one-off thing. During summer, while strutting down the hot sunny streets of Salisbury he encountered a foreign middle-aged man. He seemed like an American tourist who with full confidence strutted up to him and started asking him questions.

He seemed to be looking for some old church so Acher paused for a second trying to remember which one he could be talking about. The man, however, took that as the blonde not understanding his words and soon started repeating "English, do you understand it?" then proceeded to say it like five more times and then once more but very slowly as if that would suddenly make Acher understand a new language.

By that point, Tallhill was so fed up with the man he kicked him in the shin and putting on his best 'distressed 6-year-old' act yelled "Ew! Don't touch me!" he then proceeded to run straight into a random woman who was just getting out of a nearby boutique.

"What are you doing to that child?!" the woman yelled. She was probably in her early 30s, a velvet cap pulled over her stylish curls, complementing her modest baby blue dress. Very clearly upper class.

"I-I'm not doing anything-"

"Oh yes, you are! You better get the hell out of here before I call the police!" The woman screeched and the man sputtered before quickly leaving.

Acher exhaled deeply and the woman, probably taking it as a sign of his distress, started cooing all over him like a disgruntled mother hen.

"Oh, my sweet baby. Did that man do anything to you? Are you okay?" she pulled his cheek with her perfectly manicured hand.

"I'm okay," Acher answered simply.

"Nonsense." she tutted. "Here, have something sweet dear." the woman pulled out a tin of hard candy from her handbag. Tallhill couldn't possibly resist such an offer. He ended up picking out the most plentiful flavor which was once again mint.

"Oh my, how mature. I personally can't stand that flavor, feels like I'm eating toothpaste." she laughed, watching him suck on the piece of candy. Then, while she was tucking the tin back into her purse the sound of the container making contact with something distinctly wooden made Acher pause. Hidden in her bag the elegantly carved handle of a wand was sticking out between the satin walls of the purse's compartment.

Acher bit down on the candy in his mouth so hard that the sweet popped into two between his teeth.

"My name is Acher Tallhill." he introduced.

The lady looked startled for a second before giving the boy a bright smile. "My name is Mara Pines. Nice to meet you Mr. Tallhill." she extended her hand and he shook it politely.

"Thank you for the candy, and for helping me of course."

Lady Pines laughed joyfully. "What a polite young man you are!" She smoothed her palm over the wild gold of his locks. "And such a handsome one too, my my."

He made a show of turning a shade redder much to the woman's entertainment.

"I work in a shop just down the street hun! It's called A Pearls Beauty. If you ever need anything don't be afraid to visit, especially if any stranger decides to approach you again. Pah! These people have no shame!" Mara waved her hands around as she stood up from her crouched position and readjusted her hat.

Acher nodded, trying to get the hunk of the mint from between his molars with the tiny slope of his nail.

"Bye-bye now!" the woman waved and trotted down the street, leaving behind the distinct smell of floral perfume.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Acher's connection to the magical world has just been established.

He turned the candy in his mouth with a satisfied huff.

[...]

Acher's magical experiments and training did not slow down as the years went on. His wingardium leviosa grew stronger, now being able to multiply the number of threads he created up to five. His practice with toy cars was a success and the reincarnate was able to make the tiny vehicles ride all around his room. Soon he moved on to things like thin children's books. First, he would try to stack them up which prompted him to create different web endings for his strings to more comfortably wrap around the entire text. Then he moved on to opening them and pushing around pages. To do that more comfortably he turned the ending of his thread into a wide plack.

By the time he reached the age of six, he was able to wrap the strings of his magic around Medved' and animate the stuffed bear into twirling around his bed like a ballerina. The threads were knotted into braids at the plushie's middle and then released into individual arms at the cusps which made it easier to move.

To say he was proud of himself would be an understatement. It got to a point where while sleeping the boy would curl into himself, his hands protectively holding the place where his sphere of magic was lodged in his belly.

And his magic loved it.

The sphere would swell and shiver every time he created a new thread, coaxing the magic out of his body as it slithered out of him like a serpent. It grew over time, not too much but its pressure definitely increased. Acher could feel it.

It also reacted more violently to his emotions, jumping with him in joy and bristling in anger.

At times like these Acher was very thankful he was not an emotional person. He already had to reign his magic in and stopping it was an exhausting task.

On one particular July afternoon, Acher was ready to make another breakthrough in his Leviosa practice.

He was standing in a weeded-over sandpit, completely alone. Abandoned playgrounds like this one are perfect spots for practice, and sand was exactly what he was looking for.

He created multiple super thin threads, more spider web adjacent in their volume, before connecting them to individual grains of sand. The blond watched the tiny rocks spring up and twirl around him as if pulled on a carousel. Making more threads he picked up more sand until there was a small gust circling his form like a viper.

"Mh." grumbling Acher wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. The more sand he picked up the worse the strain over his core was. He thought that maybe due to the thinness of the threads there wouldn't be much of an issue but with how many of those tiny rocks he needed to sweep up he was growing more and more exhausted. The hot weather didn't help either. It was unusually warm for England.

"Worm!" a tiny voice exclaimed behind him and Tallhill startled so badly the sand cloud burst like a soap bubble.

There it was again.

Acher clenched his teeth. Ever since his reincarnation, the young man heard a slue of small innocuous voices while going for walks, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out where they were coming from. They were always too far off from him to know exactly who was yelling and it drove him nuts. Did he reincarnate into the body of a lunatic? Was it an auditory hallucination? He had no idea and it freaked him out since he could sometimes hear it while I'm his house, particularly early in the morning.

"Who is it?" the blond hissed through clenched teeth, turning on his heel to look at the source of the noise. "I swear to God if this is some kind of prank a wizard is playing on me-"

There wasn't anybody behind him. Just the foliage of trees and a broken, rusted over swing.

The boy jutted his lip out in irritation. Wordlessly he began to once again gather sand into his magical threads. He wasn't going to let his alleged insanity interfere with his studies.

"Green worm!" the voice exclaimed.

"Show yourself!" Acher yelled in anger, his outburst followed by deafening silence.

Then, above the wooden slopes that held the sand pit together a small head of a sparrow poked out.

"Worm?" the bird asked and Acher's jaw fell slack.

"Or beetle?" the sparrow's head tilted before they hopped onto the wooden beam, gazing down into the golden hills of the pit.

"You can talk?" the blonde asked.

"As can any bird." the bird rebutted. "We are talkative. Everybody knows." their words were erratic, short, and quipped like the song of a sparrow. "It's you who talks."

"Talks?" His brows furrowed.

"Like a bird." the sparrow flew over to him and sat on his shoulder. By all means, they were an ordinary bird.

"What do you mean-" Acher questioned and then realized that something about his voice did indeed feel different. It was as if it was coming from right below his vocal cords, deeply throaty and hollow.

"A speaker. That's why you are." the sparrow jumped a bit on their thin legs. "Very rare, especially here."

Ah. Talking to birds like Harry talked to snakes. Now that's interesting. He honestly hasn't considered different versions of Parseltounge existing, let alone bird talk. This certainly explains the weird voices, especially the ones he kept hearing in the morning. He couldn't hear the standard bird songs most people were hearing. Instead, he heard them talk.

"I guess...that's cool." Acher shrugged before cautiously running his finger over the sparrow's head.

"Oh yeah." the sparrow preened, pushing their head into his awaiting hand. Then the tiny animal looked over the sand pit curiously. "What you doing?" their head tilted again.

"I'm trying to control sand. I'm connecting my magic threads with each grain." the blonde answered, going back to gathering the tiny rocks into a suitable cloud.

The bird surveyed his movements before asking further "Why individually?"

"What?" The boy looked at the bird in confusion.

"Why individual grains? Can't make pretty beads? A worm's knobs?"

"What are you talking about?" the boy huffed, dropping the sand altogether.

The bird just looked at him with an exacerbated look in their eyes before jumping off his shoulder and flying away.

What was that about? Honestly what even was the ability to talk to birds for if they all spoke in such a cryptic way? It was like talking to an overzealous toddler who couldn't string sentences together. Or a senile old man who loves riddles a bit too much. And how rare was such an ability anyway? The sparrow mentioned that it was rare 'especially here' which could mean Britain but it could also mean Europe as a whole. He knew Parseltounge was something that had its origins in India but what about the whole bird talk thing?

It looks like he was going to need to interrogate more of those flying little riddle lovers.

Now that he thought about it having such an ability is dead useful, especially from an intel standpoint. What was a better spy than a thing as innocuous as a bird? They can move around freely and quickly pass on information. Plus they exist in basically any environment.

Acher rubbed his chin, pouring over that thought.

Then as quickly as they left the bird returned and once again settled on his shoulder. They dropped a broken string of beads into Acher's hands, it looked like an old bracelet.

"Beads." the sparrow repeated as the reincarnate looked over the piece of jewelry. "String the sand together with threads. Like the beads. Like the coils of a worm. Less magic."

At that moment it clicked and Acher looked at the bird with a startled expression. "I get it."

When he reached his magic and threaded the first grain he quickly reached for another one with that same string. Then another one and another one until he had a secure coil around multiple rocks that mirrored that of the bracelet. He lifted the construct and allowed it to spin around him, fluctuating like the line of a heartbeat, bending to his every whim.

"Why do that? You're a nestling. No need to fly just yet." the bird's head tilted from side to side. Assessing him like a scattered puzzle.

The boy made more threads, cooling them around the sand and pulling them into long clusters. "Magic is a science, a tool, and an art. It is also a limb, an inherent part of me and every wixen." he coiled a string of sand in front of him into a circular group, spinning it in the air and threading more and more strings into it to create a snowflake-like shape. "Why have hands if you're not going to use them?" he looked at the bird from the corner of his eye. "That's like having wings and not wanting to fly."

The bird bristled. "Not flying?" they chirped. "What a joke! Not flying! Total idiocy."

"See? You get it." the reincarnate whispered, bruising his fingers against the warm sand and the bussing thread of his cool magic.

[...]

Acher was both the cook and the cleaned of the house and honestly? He didn't mind. With how bored he was in kindergarten, moving around the house and wiping down the antique furniture only made him feel better. By the time he was seven, he could honestly say that the kitchen was his domain. He wore that kitchen towel around his hips like a middle-aged mom of 5 as he bustled around the stove.

It was truly quite worrying just how little his mother seemed to care that her seven-year-old child had the motor skills of an adult. Meh. She was gone most of the time anyway. Off doing God knows what. Acher just hoped that it was actually related to her job.

He did catch her looking at him a few times with that intense gaze of hers.

He would make scrambled eggs and pancakes with apple slices for breakfast, tomato soup, roasted fish, or lasagne for dinner, and then finish the day off with a nice bowl of warm oatmeal. Every dish was tasty and although the scrambled eggs did push his texture issues a bit as long as it was warm he wouldn't complain. It was hard reaching the stove but he managed. Usually just crawling on top of the counter. He didn't make a show of cooking, of course, usually waiting until his mother fell asleep. Then when she woke up she had a nice plate of waffles and a cup of herbal tea to help her hangover.

Once she did ask him where he learned how to make all those dishes and he coyly replied that he read about it in a book his teacher gave him. He spun a little story about how she thought he was 'very grown up' and should 'consider using his creativity in other ways'. He got a silent nod from his mother and another inconspicuous look before she left to burn another pack of cigarettes into her lungs.

The days went on like that until Acher had a quite uncomfortable epiphany while skinning a carrot for some chicken broth.

"If I were an actual child, this would be abusive." he voiced to the empty house. "That woman. She's neglectful." his eyebrow furrowed, looking at the half-skinned carrot as if the vegetable could give him some kind of answer. "I'm not her goddamn roommate, I'm her child. What is she thinking leaving me alone like this?"

If Acher actually was a stupid 7-year-old by that point he might have been dead in a ditch somewhere.

He sighed. His peeling resumed.

It was honestly kind of interesting to see how neglect manifested. Acher was by no means ever beaten by Isabella, she didn't shout or curse him. In a way, she was by that logic an ideal parent, never got angry, and allowed her son to do anything he wanted.

He was reminded of that one time he asked her for money to do some quick grocery shopping and she straight up gave him money no questions asked.

There was no control. Which was a good and a bad thing. What if he spent all that money on candy or some other stupid thing a kid his age would buy with that kind of money?

She honestly seemed to be avoiding him.

Sometimes he would catch her looking at him, not with curiosity or bewilderment but some other emotion he couldn't pinpoint. It kind of scared him.

Then she would disappear and not come back till midnight, drunk off her mind, stumbling through the house and knocking over things along the way to her bedroom. In a way, he felt like he was living with a toddler. Especially those few times he had to show her the way to her own bed.

One time while he was tucking her underneath the covers, making sure to leave a bucket next to the bed, she reached out and grabbed his arm with her long fingers. He startled but allowed her to pull him close despite that.

Her breath reeked of booze, hair giving off the distinct tang of tobacco.

But she was warm. Acher found himself leaning into her touch, allowing those thin arms to bring his head to her collarbone.

He patted her back. It was...nice to be held in such a way. He wasn't big on physical contact but with how long he had gone without it he couldn't help but accept the hug.

Then that peaceful and serene moment just had to be burst like a bubble.

"Mom." he heard his mother slur out.

He froze like a statue, face twisting uncomfortably.

Oh boy. Now that's some deep-seated mommy issues that just reared their head.

"Mom? That should be my line." he hissed, wriggling out of her grip and leaving her arms to dangle off the side of the bed. She was out like a light at that point, droll slipping down her cheek.

He exhaled deeply, massaging the bridge of his nose. Parents are people, that's something that he always had to remind himself. They have their own parents and their own experiences that later translate into how they treat their children.

There were clearly things he didn't know concerning his mother. Well, he was not about to pry into her life, if Isabella wasn't ready to tell him then he wasn't going to push. Even if it meant having to drag her half-conscious body through their flat every night.

Everyone has their secrets, Acher especially.

Oh, he has many.

Chapter Text

It seems that no matter the time and place you attend it, school is school. You come in, mind clouded with despair and the remanence of sleep, sit down like a good little dog for a couple of hours, and then you leave.

The British school Acher attended wasn't much different from the Slovakian one Rene had to go to. On the contrary, he was hit with a potent dose of nostalgia upon being assigned his seat on the first day. A quaint little place next to the window, not unlike the one he had to sit in in his previous life.

The uniforms were awful though and also a new thing for him. A white blouse and a scratchy pair of grey pants, also a pair of shorts for the summer. Unfortunately in the same color and of the same dreadful texture that made him scratch his skin raw during class.

To Acher's annoyance, his peculiar reputation carried over from kindergarten into his new school. Thus he got quite a few skeptical looks from his new teachers, particularly his English teacher that watched him like a hawk every time he interacted with other students. So in some fickle attempt at fixing his own image, he made himself as unassuming and nonthreatening as possible. His days were mostly spent looking out the window and gazing wistfully into the clouds, pretending like he was some brooding anime protagonist. He did his work. Begrudgingly of course. Though the higher-level material actually sometimes succeeded at keeping his attention.

During his time at school, he also expanded his social circle. Well. More like bird circle.

He talked to birds. A lot. Like a lot a lot. Probably more than he talked to humans.

Doves, ravens, crows, sparrows, pigeons. He wasn't picky about who he would talk to.

The sparrow he met before which he affectionately named Malý Rytier also kept by his side. His favorite place was right at the top of Acher's head, nestled in the wild mounds of the boy's locks that he would sometimes pluck out to decorate his nest with.

The blond would leave the school grounds right after class and settle in the abandoned playground, placing himself on the rusted swing. Then he would reach out his hand and without fail, a bird would swoop down in a flurry of feathers, hooking their long claws over his thin blouse and brushing them over his browned skin. Then they relayed. Everything the eyes of the sky saw during short nights and long clouded days. They spoke of the warm and colorful plains of India, Russian forests encased in snow, the humid air of red Brazil, and of Britain of course. Painting a picture of Sailsbury as seen from above the clouds and at the tops of tree branches.

The birds didn't need to be coaxed into speaking, as their entire kind rather loved hearing the sound of their own voice. Some of them were a bit picker though, sometimes requesting a strand of hair from his head or a sunflower seed. He didn't mind, he had more hair than one could consider comfortable.

The crows especially seemed to love Acher or rather, again, his hair. They spoke of sunlight when they saw him, bestowing upon him gifts of bottle caps, glass containers, and jeweled hairpins that he took with utmost gratitude.

After he established his ever-expanding circle of friends he asked them about wizards. Particularly ones in Sailsbury and was immediately flooded with dissapointenment upon hearing that; there weren't many in his area. The highest number was of course in London, where you didn't have to look very hard to spot a wizard. They paraded around in their spiked hats and weird clothing as if forgetting they were at the scrutiny of muggles. Some of them had a big enough brain to cast a notice-me-not on themselves before leaving their house. That spell fortunately did not work as well on birds as it did on people.

There wasn't much to report on as Acher was, for now, living at a time of relative peace. For both the wizarding world and the muggle one which was now slowly unwinding from the strain of World War II. He got lucky in that sense, in both his previous and current life.

But he knew, more than anyone, of the dark clouds slowly gathering at the horizons.

He thought of it sometimes when laying in bed, unable to fall asleep. Voldemort would surely rise during his Hogwarts years, gather followers within pure-blood families and half-bloods alike before waging a war on the entirety of the wizarding world. He had no idea what to do with that information. He could try to alert the ministry but...well he wasn't about to become a guinea pig for the government when they inevitably ask him how he knows all of that and they find out the whole reincarnation shpeel. There was also Dumbledoor but Acher was not at all convinced a man who had a reputation for manipulating people could be a person he would trust with any knowledge of the future. The more he thought about the chief warlock the less he even wanted to acknowledge he was even an option.

And so his knowledge was... just kind of there. It's easy to imagine that once we get to know the future all of our problems will be instantly resolved however a lack of resources to do anything about it proved to be a much greater enemy. As far as he was concerned there wasn't much that could be done. At least until Tom decides to rear his head and put his plan into motion.

Maybe then, there will be something he can do.

[...]

Transfiguration was something Acher thought about dabbling in since he started to learn magic. However, he limited his excitement for the topic as it seemed way more complicated than just picking things up or creating a ball of light. He didn't want to overexert himself, he still didn't have a wand after all and he wasn't 100% sure that this wandless magic thing didn't have negative consequences.

But alas the time came. Well. More like he just grew tired of waiting.

Acher sat down on the rusted swing, and instantly a group of birds swooped down to settle themselves on his lap and shoulders. Honestly, they have no decorum whatsoever. Not even a 'please' or 'thank you'.

"What are we doing today, nestling?" the crow on his right shoulder asked. He was big, with wide and ruffled black feathers and a scarred beak. His voice deep and guttural.

Acher took out of his pocket an old metal nail, a little bent in the middle but still usable. "Today I will be turning this nail into wood"

The birds around him chirped. A collared dove that has settled herself on his shoe hooted excitedly. "I saw a witch doing something like that once! She turned a lollipop stick into a toothpick."

A Chaffinch that attached himself to the side of his hoodie fluttered onto his palm, hooking his dainty feet around his middle finger. "That sound complicated. Very complicated. More than moving things!"

Acher nodded. "Way more complicated I imagine. Turning one material into another is essential defying what that material is. How something like that works is beyond me. Making wool into satin sort of makes sense but steel into wood? Wood into glass? These are wholly different things."

The Chaffinch poked at the nail with his beak curiously before fluttering away and settling himself next to the crow.

Pursing his lips the blonde guided his magic up his arm and into his outstretched palm. He felt it coil around the nail, sealing his magic around it tightly like a second skin.

His lips pressed into a thin line. "Now what?" he asked. "How am I supposed to change it into wood?" he probed at the object, moving it around his palm with his spell, even slightly denting it at the head when his patience began to run thin. The boy could feel the stead, static-like hum of his magic, he pinched the connection in multiple places but it did nothing.

He scratched at his brow. Acher released the nail and then began to separate his magic into multiple thin threads. He sharpened the tips of these threads before coiling them around the nail and pushing the ends into the metal itself. Closing his eyes he tried to focus on the way his magic connected with the steel, the way it molded between the tiny crevices in the object as if seeking to become it.

It felt cold and unyielding. Such a small object within the confines of his magic felt burgeoning, complicated. The crevices of the metal reminded him of a motherboard he once saw his sister take out of her old computer. Little ridges, signs of damage, and tiny mounds that indicated where the metal was warped together.

But how? How was he supposed to turn this metal, an object whose entire being was just that, into wood?

"Nestling." a voice called out and Acher opened his eyes to gaze in its direction. It was a Blackbird, sitting on the white tongue of his brown sneakers. "I saw a mother once teach her children such magic. From what I saw, having a point of reference was crucial the first time."

Hm. That made sense. Tallhill nodded.

The Blackbird scooted over to him, bringing with her a small stick that she deposited into his other palm. It was a dainty piece of wood, 5cm tall and 2cm wide. With about half a centimeter of thickness. He turned it in his hand before wrapping his magic around it.

He felt the tall ashy panels of wood squeezed alongside each other like sanded towers. The crumbling ridge of bark at his palm, closing in at the sides, a protective barrier that has long crumbled yet still holds on in the barest attempt at defense. Sinking his magic further he brushes up the tentative dents left in the wood, left behind by some kind of bug, perhaps a termite or an ant. The footprints of its tiny appendages sunken into the once soft wood.

Acher's brows furrowed. He recalled distantly how the movies portrayed a transfiguration lesson. The way the wand movement and clearly saying the spell seemed to dictate your result. But that couldn't be it, could it? Acher proved you didn't need a wand to practice magic and saying spell incantations didn't guarantee you were going to succeed. So what was it? What's the missing ingredient?

He turned once again to the nail, its steel and the cold that permeated it. And despite how skeptical he was of such an approach he imagined that the nail at his palm began to shrivel and then expand. Those massive silver domes slowly morphed, expanding and thinning into long ashy towers, splintering and drying. He focuses on that dryness, the feeling of paper and powder, pouring that thought into the thick ridge of bark, darkened by sunlight. Then like an artist branded with the smallest of brushes, he stamped the tiny footsteps that traced the sandy branch.

Acher exhaled and peeled his eyes open.

His hands each held an identical piece of old wood.

"Nestling you did it!" the Chaffinch exclaimed, hopping on his shoulder.

He did indeed do it. But then...

"How is that possible though?" Acher whispered and all the chirping and excitement of his companions died around him. "My magic reacted to my imagination... But...how does it know how to do that? I don't know the components of wood and yet," he clenched his palm, allowing the transfigured nail to pop and crumble. "this is wood."

Up to that point, Acher has used his power as an extension of himself. Like a fifth limb, he utilized it in a way that he was capable of understanding. But now...he didn't know what he had done. It could be explained away by the limb doing things subconsciously but even then Acher was 100% sure he never knew the exact chemical or physical components of a tree even on that subconscious level.

He let his palms rest on his lap. That could also mean something else...

That could also mean ... That his magic had a mind of its own.

That it knew things he didn't.

A foreign entity.

The molten ball of mercury in his guts rolled and fluctuated like a trapped ocean wave. His magic never yielding, preening like a bird, flaring at his emotions.

Acher put his hand flat over his chest.

He felt his magic reach out to press against it.

[...]

Acher practically dragged himself back to his house, kicked his shoes off his feet at the entrance, and hauled his body onto the couch in the living room and next to his mother. Isabella was curled over the typewriter, massaging her temple with tense, circular movements. As always, an avalanche of paper was stewed over the coffee table. There were actually some completed pages stored off to the side though. Acher considered that a major success.

He sighed. "Mom?"

Isabella startled and looked at him with owlish eyes. She noticed how tired she looked. Damn. Was the career path of a writer this draining?

His mother hasn't been drinking for the last week which was a new record for her. It certainly made him feel way more assured in her competence and self-restraint. Plus it was just nice not to have to throw away the bottles and clean up the vomit. She also...looked way better like this. Not drunk out of her mind.

"What is it Acher?" the woman asked, reluctantly looking back at her half-finished paper.

"What would you do if you had magic?"

Isabella's fingers stilled over the keys. She titles her head to the ceiling, seeming to ponder over the question. "Well. It depends on what type of world I would be in."

Acher's eyebrow quirked up "Why?"

Isabella resumed her writing, her long and bony fingers jumping across the keyboard. "Every story in which magic is present has a different magic system. Some of them are soft while others are hard. So it depends I guess."

"How can a magic system be hard?" Tallhill pressed.

"If a magic system is hard it means that there are set rules that dictate how a person can use magic. Like whether or not they need to expend some kind of resource. Or they can only do certain spells while others are off-limits. Every rule is set in stone, it feels more like a science that way."

Acher found himself extending a tendril of magic out of his palm, feeling the way the limb bent to his every will. It felt solid and sure like the press of a brick wall at your back.

"While a soft magic system is... Simultaneously simpler yet also more complicated. Its magic is in its purest form, without any clear restrictions. It's mystical and random, it can seemingly do anything. It can never be fully understood."

The tendril hovering above his palm split at the end, fluttering its many appendages into a small, dandelion-like shape. It fluttered like a feather, gleaming in his mind's eye like metal.

"That doesn't really answer your question though huh?" Isabella laughed, shaking Tallhill out of his swirling thoughts.

"Well." she shrugged, finishing off a paragraph. "I guess if I has magic I would do...everything."

Acher stared at his mother with wide eyes, mouth agape. Then his features relaxed and a small smile graced his lips.

"Yeah," he whispered. "yeah I get that."

[...]

Mara Pines's shop "A Pearls Beauty" was a quaint little establishment situated in the heart of Salisbury, crammed between a high-end clothes store and a freshly opened library. It was painted a light blue color on the outside and a powdery pink on the inside.

Acher sat quietly on a small stool, off to the side of the store, watching as lady Pines packed a large order which consisted almost entirely of hairspray and dark rosebud blush. He had to admit the store smelled lovely, all the sweet scents blending into an even and somehow not overwhelming aroma.

"A Pears Beauty" specialized in an incredibly wide range of items, from perfume, makeup brushes, mirrors, and shampoos to skincare and haircare. Every product packed in either light pink or blue.

But Acher wasn't there to discuss his hair treatment plan. (though he knew the conversation will have to go there at some point since Mara seemed to be very keen on breaching that topic)

He had decided to reveal his magical ability to the witch.

There really wasn't anything stopping him and such a move would bring a ton of benefits into his life. Particularly the fact that Pines could try to teach him a bit about magic if he asked her. Maybe she could lend him some of her books, then he could easily get ahead with his Hogwarts material.

"Ms. Pines?" he asked.

The woman looked back and smiled widely. "Yes, hon?"

He dropped her gaze, pretending to be a little unsure with the fiddling of his hands.

"Aw, what is it sweet bun? Is something wrong, does your tummy hurt?" she knelt before him, smoothing down his hair with the tentative stroke of her ringed fingers.

"I- um-." he stuttered. "Could I...show you something? But promise me you won't be mad."

Worry crosses Mara's face. "Oh, sweet cheeks of course I won't get mad! What is it?"

He pulled out a small wooden ball he transfigured a few days ago out of a random rock. "I um, found out I can do this, and I don't know if that's okay."

The woman looked at his hand quizzically.

He allowed his magic to lift the ball up in a weak Leviosa.

Pines gasped at the levitating object, realization flashing in her eyes. Acher let the wood drop back into his hand.

Instantly Mara started assaulting him with questions, ranging from how old he was when he realized he could do something like that to can he do anything else. Acher didn't mention anything besides his Leviosa but the woman seemed impressed non the less. After his explanation, she gripped his shoulders and told him that he should never ever see himself as a freak and that he's just a very special person.

Then she pulled her wand out of a holster beneath her sleeve. The wood was dark, with small carvings of plants decorating the handle in ornate swirls.

Excitement pickled the back of Acher's spine. The prospect of seeing another person cast spells was positively enthralling.

"This is a wand." Pines spoke softly. "People like you and me- wizards- use them to cast magic." she moved her wand in a circularl motion. Acher watched with greedy eyes as a nearby bottle of perfume perked into the air and began to twirl around its axis. "See?" she smiled. "It's natural. Most wizards need to use wands to do it. Being able to levitate an object without it, especially at your age, is very impressive."

She stroked Acher's head gently.

"So, there are more people out there like me?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Yes, there are. Many more. Each country has its own population of wizards. That includes Britain." her face hardened into a more serious expression. "Remember Acher, you can't reveal this to anyone. Especially people who don't have magic. Don't cast spells out in the open. It's illegal."

If he were an actual kid he would probably be spewing enough questions to kill the woman. But he was already familiar with most things she talked about. He knew of the Ministry of Magic and the Statue of Secrecy so he settled down on simply nodding back and cradling the wooden ball closer to himself.

Pines gazed at him with those soft eyes of hers before pinching both his cheeks in her hands with an exacerbated sigh. "Oh, sweet cheeks what am I going to do with youu~ Such a smart little man and now also a wizard? My little baby Acher is gonna go to Hogwarts and leave me here alone..."

He has only been visiting the shop for about two weeks at that point. This woman got attached mighty fast.

"Hogwarts?" the blonde asked.

"Ah yes! She exclaimed, pulling away from his reddened cheeks. "Your gonna be attending Hogwarts! It's a magical school for little wizards like you." Mara tickled his nose causing him to wrinkle it. "When you reach eleven years of age you'll be given an acceptance letter. After you get there you'll be sorted into your new house in the school."

"Houses?" he pushed.

"Yes! They are groups that Hogwarts sorts you into based on your personality." Pines nodded. "I was a Gryffindor! But you may also be sorted into Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin."

A Gryffindor huh? Well, he could certainly see it. She was brave and unapologetically brash. He tried to imagine her in red and golden robes. They looked quite nice on her.

He fidgeted. "That sounds amazing."

"Haha! Well, my parents were wizards so I knew about all this stuff since I was a baby. It must be quite jarring to hear about all of this for the first time." she twirled around ye story, excitedly sweeping the counter clean of any clutter and taking out another empty carton box.

It wasn't anything new to Acher. He knew of Hogwarts, including its many secrets. He knew of people that haven't yet been born and events that haven't yet come to pass. In that way, he was like a seer on steroids, knowledgeable in details, images, and sounds not singular and imprecise prophecies.

Still. Seeing all of this himself. Being able to touch it, to experience the classes first hand. To see Hogwarts, not as a faux image plastered on his tv but as an actual place, a giant castle standing proudly like a beacon between the high mountains and forest plains.

It made him so excited.

He left the store in late noon, turning a mint in his mouth with a satisfied huff. A different brand, slightly sweeter, akin more to peppermint. He left with his hands in his pockets and face turned towards the clouded sun, watching the white shadows slowly drag themselves across the sky.

He wondered what those clouds would look like if he gazed at them from the top of Hogwarts astronomy tower.

[...]

"Accio red pillow," Acher called out, sitting on the floor of his small bedroom. He felt the drum of his magic within his chest, the sudden strain and release before the object flew from behind him and into his palm. Tallhill caught it easily as it basically thrust itself into his hand. He gazed at the pillow and then behind at his bed which was now noticeably missing it.

"Success!" he exclaimed before turning to Medved', the small teddy seated at his study desk. "Did you see that Medved'? I did it without looking at it."

The bear just stared with its ever-smiling cotton face and button eyes.

Acher reached out and Acciod Medved into his arms before falling backward onto the carpet, cradling it to his chest.

His room was a small and chaotically organized space. The twin bed draped over with an orange-blue blanket and enough ornately decorated pillows to drown yourself in was pressed against the wide window. The walls were painted a light blue color and covered in random maps, construction manuals, and pictures cut out of newspapers. His mother very much questioned his design choices when she saw him gluing on an image of a cow he stole from a milk advertisement but didn't make him take it down which he appreciated. There wasn't really any reason as to why he decided to decorate this way other than that he just really hated boring, bare walls. They made him downright anxious.

His wardrobe was old as any furniture in the house, made of dark wood and held by dreadfully rusty hinges. Acher's desk was similarly drowning in things. Rocks, crayons, pens stewed all over the surface, and his half-finished schoolwork. It all painted a strange mosaic of his peculiar interests and disinterests.

There was also a tall bookcase, stuffed mostly with school books as Acher took his knowledge revising quite seriously. Being fresh out of high school before he died he allowed himself to delve a little deeper into the topics he once considered boring like chemistry and physics. Such information also helped him understand his magic better, or rather helped him understand how much he didn't know anything about it.

Acher hugged Medved' closer to himself, blonde strands of his hair tangling with the short threads of the deep orange carpet. He watched with hazed eyes as a fly skittered across the old light-grey chandelier stuck to the ceiling. Tallhill decorated it a couple of weeks ago with multicolored ribbons. The fly seemed to like it.

"We are going to Hogwarts in a year," Acher whispered, bringing the bear at an eye level. "It's gonna be so cool Medved'. You'll love it. We will get to learn spells, and meet magical creatures and...and learn spells!" He exhaled, hugging the bear to his breast. "And Hogwarts...it'll be massive. Bigger than anything you and I have ever seen..."

He angled the bear to make it look at his bookcase. "There's a library there with sooo many books! So much more than I ever had. I can't wait to read them, they'll have to drag me out of the library by my toes."

Exhaling the boy closed his eyes, relaxing himself against the tough expanse of the carpet.

"It's gonna be so fun, you have no idea."

Chapter Text

It happened as all extraordinary things, during a completely ordinary day.

Acher woke up with a frown, rolling out of his mountain of blankets and pillows and onto the carpeted floor. It was about 10 in the morning, grey rays of the morning sun spilling softly into his room. Damn British weather.

He stood up, pushing down his pajama sleeves and pants that have inevitably rolled up during the night.

Acher was angry.

During the night his mother woke him up with the sound of a shoe rack falling heavily in the hallway that she crashed into while drunk out of her mind. She had been doing so well for the past month at straying away from alcohol. Then bam. Got right back into it. He had to once again bodily drag her to the couch(he was too mad and tired to get her to the bed).

Thus he woke up cranky and annoyed the next day.

Huffing he left the bedroom, bare feet tapping against the hardwood tiles. He passed multiple old paintings of landscapes decorating the hallway and a fancy dresser with a big, old vase sitting proudly on top of it, holding a bouquet of long-dried Hydrangeas. He has to change those soon. Maybe Hogweed? They look quite mystical.

Acher climbed on top of the stool that allowed him to gaze into the bathroom mirror.

As the years went on his button baby nose sloped down into a soft hook, mirroring his mother almost one-to-one. His face sharpened a bit though was still noticeably pudgy due to his young age. He ran a tentative finger down his browned skin, over the hair of his thick blonde eyebrows, and down to the strongly defined cupid's bow of his full lips.

He huffed. Ridiculous. Acher was way too pretty. How was that even possible?

Tallhill washed his face with rose-scented soap, scrubbed his hair with "Pearl Shampoo" which Ms. Pines had given him for his eleventh birthday, and then brushed his teeth while scribbling random doodles on the fogged-over mirror. By the time he painted a large picture of a crow with Dumbledoors head on it, the steam had fallen and the cold began to set in. He quickly got dressed, combing out his hair in the process with a wide-toothed comb that was also a present from Pines.

By the time he left the bathroom his wet hair was slicked back into a curly mound and his body hugged by a loose-fitting t-shirt and wide checkered sweatpants. Acher also put on two different socks, one a dark green with yellow polka dots and the other a hot pink with a white toe and heel. Why? Well, he just couldn't decide which ones to wear that day so he wore both.

As he walked to the kitchen, mind occupied by the carton of eggs he got yesterday for half price that he was eager to use, there was suddenly a curt knock on the front door.

Acher stilled. Was it the mailman? It was quite late in the morning already so it was possible.

He huffed and walked through the living room and past the sleeping Isabella to get to the entrance. Skipping over the shoes stewed all over the floor he twisted the lock and threw open the door.

In front of him stood an older woman in dark, flowy robes and a spiky hat pulled on top of her head. Her eyes made contact with his and he noted the sharpness and intensity of the woman's gaze, made only stronger by her thin lips, pulled-back hair, and the faint wrinkles around her optics. She looked like a black chess piece, standing with her shoulders straight and body poised.

McGonagall.

He stood there stunned. The witch opened her lips probably to greet him but due to his brain shirt circuiting he ended up blurting out: "You're not the mailman."

Minerva watched him with a puzzled expression before clearing her throat. "No. I am not. My name is Minerva McGonagall, Head Of Transfiguration and Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts." she seemed to be analyzing him, her gaze jumping from his hair to his socks to the paint stains marring the bottom of his shirt. "And I'm assuming you are Mr. Tallhill, Is that correct?"

He nodded.

"Perfect," she said. "I have matters that I need to discuss with you and your parents Mr. Tallhill regarding your enrollment in our school."

She sure was getting into everything very fast.

He poked his head out, looking left and right to check if any of his neighbors were outside. Nobody was there.

Then he looked up at the teacher before shrugging "Come on in then." he didn't really know what to do with a witch at his door so he just invited her in as with any guest.

"Very well." McGonagall nodded, stepping into the flat.

She analyzed the disheveled shoe rack and bundles of keys poised upon the rusted hangers above a basket of umbrellas. She was just about to step fully into the hallway but Acher stopped her quickly. "You need to take off your shoes professor!" he pointed at the frankly ancient-looking black, heeled shoes.

The woman looked at him startled, clearing her throat in what seemed to be embarrassment. She took off her heels, leaving them placed neatly next to his muddied sneakers.

Once he led her to the living room the woman jumped a bit in surprise, seeing his mother sprawled out on the couch. "This um-" Minerva pointed at the other adult and gave him a questioning look.

"Yeah, mom is sleeping on the couch so the coffee table is off-limits." he gestured to the dining table. "Let's sit over there instead."

McGonagall reluctantly sat down in the creaky dining room chair.

"Do you want some tea?" he asked.

"Well-"

"I'll make you some tea." he decided and ignoring the woman's bewildered expression, walked into the kitchen.

He could feel her gaze on his back as he took out two mugs from the cupboard and filled a tea kettle with water before putting it on the stove. As the blonde was dropping the tea bags into the cups he realized that he still hasn't eaten breakfast. He quickly took out the aforementioned eggs and put them into a small pot of boiling water.

After less than two minutes he places the steaming cups onto the dining room table and sat across from the disgruntled-looking woman. When she didn't immediately take the mug he pushed it closer to her with the tips of his fingers. "This one is for you professor."

"Yes," she said stiffly after a few seconds, eyeing the old mug. It was a little scraped but had a funny cartoon of a duck on it. Acher quite liked that mug and didn't understand why Minerva was giving it such an aggravated look."Thank you." she took a sip.

Acher took a big gulp of his tea, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Mr, Tallhill," she said with an air of seriousness. "I have come here to tell you something very important regarding your future and present for that matter."

"That I'm a wizard?" he asked taking a big gulp of his tea.

Minerva's eyes widened. "So you're aware of that?"

"Yep." he nodded. "A nice witch already talked to me about that. She told me. About Hogwarts I mean." Acher took a pause, fishing out the slice of lemon out of his tea before taking a bite of it.

Minerva seemed to cringe a little.

"Well." she huffed. "I'm glad that you're in the know, this will make it much easier for us." the woman crossed her legs, leaning a bit into her seat. "I'm assuming the letter we have sent also aided you in providing information about our school?"

Acher paused at this, squinting his eyes. "I didn't receive any letters."

Minerva's eyebrows furrowed deeply "That's impossible. Our owls don't make any mistakes when delivering the mail."

He shrugged, pushing the rest of the lemon into his mouth. "Well, I didn't get anything."

"Mr. Tallhill that is simply not an option-"

"Oh wait, my eggs are done." Acher realized getting down from his seat and trotting back to the kitchen.

Acher washed the eggs under cold water and placed them on a small orange plate that was one of his personal favorites. By the time he returned to the table with a plate of three hard-boiled eggs(he was hungry okay) and a small spoon McGonagalls face looked caught between deep annoyance and bewildered amusement.

He began to beat the eggshell with his spoon creating a nice crack at the side before he suddenly stopped "Oh. I'm sorry, professor. I didn't ask you if you want any eggs."

Something akin to laughter escaped Minerva but she quickly stifled it down. The woman brought her hand up "Uhm, no need Mr. Tallhill. I'm not hungry."

He nodded, reaching for the salt shaker from a small silver tray in the middle of the table.

"Mr. Tallhill I want you to focus on this," McGonagall said, making Acher look up. "As you are a member of the magical society you will need to attend Hogwarts. Today is August 30th, school starts on the 1st of September. I came here today, as was discussed in that letter you didn't receive, to take you to Diagon Alley which is the main shopping district within wizard Britain. We need to buy you a number of important supplies, including your books and most importantly your wand."

Acher put a bit of salt on the top of his peeled egg before biting into it. "And we can buy all of that there? In that Alley?" he asked, chewing through his food.

"Yes." The professor nodded. "I am supposed to take you there at half past twelve."

He looked at the clock. It was nearing eleven.

"Alright." he shrugged, finishing his first egg.

The woman's eyes traveled from his face to the side, gazing into the living room. "Your mother..."

"She's just drunk," he assured. "Came home really late tonight though she should be waking up soon."

This didn't seem to put McGonagall at ease in the slightest. "Well I'm going to need her to sign some paperwork,-"

Loud retching interrupted her words.

"Now she's awake!" Acher exclaimed. "Don't worry. I left a bucket next to the couch."

Not ten seconds after the sound of vomiting subsided a disheveled Isabella ran into the dining area. With hair all over her green face, she looked more like an overstuffed scarecrow. "Wha-" she hissed, pointing her finger at McGonagall "Who the fuck are you!?" then she did something that really made Acher surprised. She snatched a plastic broom leaning on the wall and pointed it at the professor in as threatening of a gesture as wielding a cleaning tool allowed her. "Get the fuck away from my son!"

Now that was something else! Acher honestly felt quite flattered by that blatant display of...love? Something like that. And how brave! If McGonagall actually was some strange psycho trying to abduct him this would have been near self-sacrifice.

"Mom." the blond called out making his fuming parent pause. "You need to wash your face and drink some water." he hopped down from his seat. "Please get to know the professor while I get you a cup."

"The...professor?" she whispered, dropping her improvised weapon.

Minerva proceeds the introduce herself to his mother in the same long and convoluted way as she did to him. By the time he returned to the dining room with a cup of water, Isabella was seated at the table staring at the older woman with a bewildered expression that bordered on being barely conscious. The more McGonagall explained the wider his mother's eyes became.

"So..." His parent started by the end of Minervas speech. "What you're saying is...that my son is some wizard with wild magical abilities who needs to go to a magic school to control his powers?"

"Yes." McGonagall nodded.

"And there's more of these...wizard people out there who live in a hidden society. And you're one of them."

"Correct."

"And...you came here to take my son to a hidden, magical shopping district to buy his school supplies. Including a magical wand, an animal, and a flying broom..."

"Precisely." the professor said.

Isabella looked down at her half-empty cup of water, tipping it from one side to the other and watching the liquid shift. Her face scrunched "Are child kidnappers this creative nowadays?" she scoffed. "You expect me to believe all this bullshit? Do you actually think I'm that stupid as to just let you take my child away to some 'school' in the butt fuck nowhere of Scotland?"

Another impressive act from his mother! Acher eagerly finished his last egg, looking up at his mom with sparkles in his eyes. Hogwarts was by all means a real and tangible place, the existence of magic and, well, Minerva herself being an actual person proved that. But still, to an average person, this entire ordeal must be shady as all hell.

Without disputing anything Minerva simply took out her wand and pointed it at the salt shaker standing next to Acher's plate. The shaker bent, elongated, and then molded itself into a glass statuette of a dancing woman.

If Isabella's eyes could pop out of her skull, they would.

[...]

Acher looked over the long list of school supplies, cradling the paper in his hands. Isabella was also looking over his shoulder at the letter, glancing constantly to McGonagall who was leading them down the narrow street. They were heading towards a local floo network to floo directly into Diagon Alley.

What was very pleasing about the entire situation was that Isabella actually came along! She seemed very adamant about sticking to his side and making sure Minerva was 'not some organ harvester that was very committed to the bit', her words exactly.

His mother took the whole 'magic being an actual thing' with a hefty amount of skepticism even after the little trick Minerva performed. Though she seemed to be adjusting quite well.

They arrived at an old library Acher has never been to before. It was a single little building within an apartment complex. Their little group silently passed the librarian's desk, the woman sending one quick look McGonagalls' way before returning to whatever she was reading. They entered a small room off to the side and as they did a sudden chill ran up Acher's spine. Some kind of seemed to be protecting the place from prying eyes.

In the room was a single, tall fireplace made out of shiny black stone, a small pot situated at the mantle place.

"I want you Mr. Tallhill to take a handful of this." The witch said, taking the little basket up to him. It was filled with emerald green Floo powder. He quickly took a sizable chunk. The granules were smaller than sand and felt silky between his fingers. "Great." she nodded. "Now you and your mother will step into the fireplace."

Isabella looked like she was about to protest but Tallhill simply took her hand and dragged her into the tight space.

"Now, speak very clearly 'Diagon Alley' and throw the powder under your feet."

He did just that. Instantly there was a burst of flames where the powder hit. He felt the oppressive heat of green flames engulf him from head to toe and he held in his breath, squeezing his eyes shut against the roaring temperature. Distantly he heard his mother's surprised yelp. Then the world behind his eyelids seemed to shift and tumble as if he was on a rollercoaster.

Until it all vanished and he was left standing in the fireplace completely unharmed.

Isabella tugged him out of the fireplace, her hand clammy against his. "This is insane!" she hissed.

The fireplace roared to life again and McGonagall stepped out right behind them.
"Good to see nothing bad has happened." the witch simply nodded.

They were now in another random room with multiple fireplaces and a big door left ajar in front of them. Acher, unable to curb his excitement dragged his mother outside and proceeded to be hit by a wave of noise, color, and movement that left him dizzy.

Diagon Alley was nearly identical to the one in movies if not slightly more colorful and less packed. Wixen were perusing the streets like trails of ants, Acher had no idea how they didn't constantly crash into each other with how narrow those alleys were. The houses around them were both tall and short, big and small, with wide windows and tiny ones. It looked like someone took a bunch of old paintings, fed it to an algorithm and then told it to create what it thought was an old European town.

Overhead swarms of owls were zipping through the sky, carrying letters and packages. He could hear their excited screeching, the way they shouted quick 'hello's' and haughty 'get out of my way's'.

"Let's not waste time.", the professor's voice burst his little bubble of shock and he quickly followed the woman, dragging his mother behind him.

[...]

Acher was never an impulse spender, he handled his money diligently, always taking only what was absolutely necessary.

The longer he spent in Diagon Alley the more he felt like that was about to change.

The potions shop he visited to buy the cauldrons and a basic kit was so filled to the brim with stuff his hands were practically itching to grab it. The strange flowers, animal skulls in weird liquids, ornate bottles of half-translucent goop, bundles of hair that may or may not have come from a human. He could go on and on about the things he saw and wished he had more money to get a sample of. It all glowed with this weird mystical energy(or maybe it was just the apparently mandatory spooky lighting) that he couldn't help but be drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

The old man sitting behind the counter answered all his questions in short quips, he looked half asleep. Probably because of the lighting. Their conversation boiled down to:

"What is that?" Acher pointed at a random object.

"A potion ingredient." the man would heave a sigh.

"Why does it look like that?"

"Because it does."

He decided to stop asking and just buy his essentials. He could visit again when he wasn't on a time limit to pester the man some more.

Next, he bought his astrology essentials in possibly the coolest shop in all of Diagon alley as it had a giant animated star map on the ceiling, showing the sky as it was in the moment. His second favorite thing were the prop planets arranged in the middle of the telescope area. They were roughly the sizes of soccer balls and Acher spent about five minutes simply putting his finger into Jupiter, watching its sandy-colored circles shift around the digit. He wondered what those planets were made of. Were they inetracitbel illusions? Products of some kind of potion? By the time he started thinking about it, McGonagall had to drag him out of the aisle by the back of his collar.

Next, they went to a more ordinary shop to get his quills, ink, and parchments. He chose a red-tailed hawk feather and a bottle of quick-drying ink as he was left-handed when it came to writing. He also couldn't leave without a small, unbound notebook and a thin metal case of pencils with a color-changing eraser.

The broom store was for the most part uneventful, like any sports shop in Acher's eyes. He got himself the 'Swift Fly 50', a nimble broom made of light and sturdy wood. During his stay in the store, he actually ended up seeing other wixen children, a group of girls huddled over the display models whispering excitedly to each other about 'the next big game'. A wixen equivalent of those football-obsessed kids who kick bottle caps around during lunch break.

Following that was the familiar shop. Acher spent about five minutes simply looking over the various birds before coming to the conclusion that he really didn't need another winged menace in his life. He had enough birds to carry an entire week's worth of letters in one night. He looked over the lizards, bulbous frogs, snakes, and hedgehogs before stopping at a tiny playpen at the end of the store. While he was surveying the various bugs kept in glass jars he felt something suddenly clamp down at the bottom of his pants.

He looked down only to find possibly the smallest sandy-haired kitten he had ever seen. It was all ruffled, with thin, moist fur, a tiny pink nose, and big, dark purple eyes. The thing was so small Acher picked it up with just one hand which elicited a stream of squeaky mewls.

He named her Strúhanka in another true show of his terrible naming skills.

Suffice it to say McGonagall was not impressed once he emerged out of the store with a cat carrier only for it to hold a tiny, shaking kitten inside. Kittens were a hassle, Acher understood that but he couldn't just leave Strúhanka behind. He promised Minerva that he would take care of it and train it to use the litter box as soon as possible. The woman eventually gave in once he showed her the kitten up close. Those big purple eyes did wonders to convince anyone.

Then came the true star of the show. Ollivanders. The store was small, all baved in warm lights and with the prominent scent of dust and wood hanging in the air. He entered cautiously, not seeing the man behind the counter nor hiding behind the many towers of boxes. Well. He could wait. Acher walked over to the counter, surveying the wand containers with his eyes. He wondered whether Ollivander reused the boxes once a wand had been sold. They all looked pretty battered.

"Oh, good day." suddenly a mop of wild white hair poked out from behind a nearby shelf. There he was. Ollivander was an older man of smaller stature and piercing blue eyes. "I don't think I'm familiar with you or your family young Sir. Who might you be?"

"My name is Acher Tallhill. Good to meet you mister Ollivander." the blonde introduced. "I'm a muggle-born."

"Ah that's why." the man nodded. "Well, no need to dwell on it. Which one is your wand arm Mr.Tallhill?"

Acher's eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at his hands. "I... I'm pretty sure I can do magic with either one of my arms."

Ollivander looked at him surprised, something in his expression shifting.

The blonde huffed. "I guess we can just go for my left," he said extending it. Instantly a measuring tape shot forward and started marking out his hand. "How does it work?"

"I'm sorry?" the wand maker asked.

"The measuring tape. How does it do that?"

The white-haired man smiled. "It's a charm, a complicated one. It reacts to my desires, so if I want to measure something the tape will do it automatically."

Acher watched the object bend and slither across his arm. "Fascinating," he whispered.

When he looked up he found Ollivander watching him, blue eyes trailed on his face as if he were a particularly tricky archeological find. The moment was broken once the tape snapped back behind the counter and the wand maker looked down to assess the measurements.

"I will see what I can do." he nodded.

The first wand he received was a willow wood one with a dragon heartstring core. It felt like an ordinary, cool stick in his palm, and proceeded to do nothing once he waved it. Up next was Cherry and unicorn hair. Ollivander had a good feeling about that one up until Acher swung it and one of the ornate glass vases on the counter popped into a thousand shards. Applewood with a Pheonix feather gave a weak pulse of warmth into his palm before cooling completely in his hand. Ebony wood and dragon heartstring yanked all of the wand boxes on a nearby shelf onto the floor being only outmatched by Dogwood with a unicorn hair that nearly brought down the store's chandelier.

Acher stared blankly at another wand that lay completely cold and dead in his grip. "Maybe...I'm not supposed to have a wand?"

Ollivander scoffed, rummaging through a bottom shelf of wands that looked older than the man himself. "Nonsense! Every wizard needs a wand." his sleeves were rolled up and his hair slicked back. It looked like he was taking this whole scenario as some kind of challenge. Especially after the 30th wand produced no result.

Acher sighed. "I hate how...cold they feel."

The craftsman looked at the blonde with something between surprise and intrigue.

The reincarnate gazed down at the Rosewood wand in his grip. Ollivander had to go looking for that one in his 'imported from overseas' goods. If such an obscure wand didn't work for him then what would? Plus he really wanted the wand to work... It was beautifully carved and paired with the darkness of the wood it looked downright majestic in his hand.

"Well." Acher shrugged. "If I'm not meant to have a wand, for whatever reason, then it's alright. The wand chooses the wizard and if none of them choose me then so be it." he was probably being a bit dramatic but every rejection just kept lowering his mood.

The wand maker stared at him for a couple more seconds, eyes twinkling in their strange, downright mystical manner. Then he bent down and took out a stained, white box from one of the bottom shelves he took the Rosewood wand from. "Try this one Mr.Tallhill."

Acher sighed tiredly. He had tried so many things for the last hour that the prospect of opening yet another container bummed him out even further. Was this the consequence of his wandless magic practice? None of the wands want him because he grew too independent?

He slid open the box. Inside, laying on a dainty orange cushion was a white wand, its surface glistened like ivory, the shade complemented by an ornately carved base shaped into curling vines and leaves. Picking it up with the tips of his fingers the boy turned it warily. The image of a sun with squiggly rays was etched into the narrow circular base. Acher shifted the stick and gripped it properly.

He stilled like a statue.

Acher felt a magnetic-like tug pull his hand tightly around the wand before the object began to...consider. Then he felt something akin to a head tilt, followed by a high-pitched giggle.

A tendril of his magic was yanked down his arm and into the wand, connecting the object with his core.

Acher yelped, staring down at the wooden stick as if it burned him. What on earth was that? He felt the wand's emotions, he felt it consider him before accepting.

And the way it connected. Well...honestly the way his magic acted made sense no matter how jarring it was for Acher to feel it. If getting your magic to move around wandlessly is so hard then of course the wand would be a type of catalyst that allows easy access to a person's magic and not an object that in itself holds a magical core. It was a tool, and certainly a powerful one. The blonde focused on his sphere and the way it so comfortably bend to the wand, reaching out towards it like liquid metal to a magnet.

"Beechwood and a fairy wing core, 11 inches," Ollivander stated, snapping Acher out of his stupor. "It's a wand I was gifted by an old acquaintance, one of his first creations and a notoriously hard sell." the snow-haired man smiled, watching intently as Acher's fingers shifted across the wood. "I'm guessing from your expression that it chose you?"

Acher once again gazed down at the white stick, feeling the way it clamped down on his tendril of magic, hard as a vice. "Yeah," he whispered.

"Fairy wing cores are not ones I use. They are very, hm, lest just say temperamental would be an understatement." the man waved his wand, putting stacks of boxes back into place. Acher watched as they slid back into corresponding positions, with the fluidity and smoothness of water flowing into thin crevices. "Some people say they shouldn't be cores at all. Still, there are people out there, though very few, who excel with this type of wand."

Acher's finger circled one of the leaves etched into his new possession. "What does it mean? The fairy wing?"

Ollivander hummed. "It is said that the core adapts perfectly to the wielder's needs, dark magic, light magic, healing. It's versatile. Perhaps its picky nature is a price we need to pay for its incredible adaptability." the last box slid into place with a quiet whizz and the shop fell into silence.

"Beechwood is a great type of wood, Mr. Tallhill." the man smiled. "It listens to the open-minded and wise beyond their years." he laughed suddenly "I have no idea how such elegant and subtle wood was paired with own of the rowdiest and most difficult to master cores. And for it to work!"

Acher found himself chuckling quietly. "What wood does the fairy wing pair with usually?"

Ollivanders eyes twinkled. "Dogwood, a wood known for its mischief and popularity amongst troublemakers."

"Fascinating," Tallhill whispered.

He walked out of Ollivanders 7 gallons lighter and with a very pleased wand clenched in his hand.

Chapter Text

Illusions, as it turned out, were simply a way for magic to periodically concentrate in one spot, enough for its physical shape to be revealed to the naked eye. Acher's new book "Illusions For Absolute Beginners" didn't phrase it like that of course. Instead, the small text was simply an archive of the easiest-to-perform charms arranged from simplest to medium in difficulty. Acher could perform his own experiments though so he wasn't too bothered by the lack of nuance. He got it from the kid's section of Flourish and Blots after all so the lack of details was expected.

Acher and his mother moved through the busy halls of Kings Cross, the blonde carrying his new magically enhanced suitcase with a confident grip. The small cat carrier with Acher's new companion was nestled securely in his parent's arms.

The boy studied the detailed picture of a ladybug in the "Bugs and other animated illusions" section before opening his palm and pushing his magic through his arm and into his readied hand. His hand was hidden in his pocket, of course, he was not about to get in trouble. Coalescing the magic in his hand before tying it into a secure knot Acher imagined the small body of the ladybug. The way it gleamed, how vibrant the red was, the small tickle of its thin legs across his skin.

When he was pulled out of his musings by the loud hiss of a nearby train departing a small red bug was nestled in his hand.

Success. He smiled.

Weaving through the various people acher couldn't help but tense a little. He didn't like crowds, at all. The incessant smells and sounds, mingling masses casting flickering shadows over his vision as they passed by. It caused a tingling ache at the sides of his jaw, squeezing his gut in a suffocating grip. If he tried hard enough though and focused more on the book in his hand he could drown it out substantially enough not to want to cover his ears. At least the lighting wasn't too bright.

They arrived at the spot. A wide, square column made out of solid brick.

"You sure this," his mother pointed at the unyielding wall. "is the platform entrance?"

Acher nodded, taking the pet carrier in his other hand, dispelling the quick illusion. "When I run through it I'll be teleported to the right venue."

Isabella's face twisted again "That's dumb. Why can't they just use that fireplace thing-"

"The floo network?"

"Yeah that." she waved "Why can't they use it to transport you directly to the school?"

Acher pursed his lips before shrugging.

The woman sighed. "Well...whatever." she then looked at him, albeit properly as if assessing him in full for the first time in a long time. She had that look on her face again, one he couldn't decipher. Well, Acher apparently wasn't very good at figuring out what people were feeling anyway so he might be overselling it. "I'm assuming...this is where we part."

The shorter blonde nodded.

Isabella's face twisted further before she slowly kneeled before him and embraced his smaller frame with her bony arms. She was warm. Acher placed the pet carrier down and pressed his palm against the back of her shoulder blade. They stayed like that for a solid five seconds, his mother's long hands squeezed at his sides before she pulled away from him and gazed into his eyes.

"When I was your age, I read The Hobbit and The Lord Of The Rings for the first time," she said making Acher pause in surprise. "There are many fantastical beings in those books, elves, dwarves, dragons...and...and wizards. I always loved them the most."

She reached out and smoothed her finger around the whispy tuffs of his hair, tucking them behind his ear. "I may not be a wizard like I always wanted back then. But. I'm glad you get to be one Acher. Even if I...don't fully understand it." the shaky smile she was wearing fell slightly. "You're a smart kid. I know you are. But I, still worry. This Hogwarts is far away...and...I just..."

"I'll write to you," Acher reassured, bringing back Isabella's shaky smile.

She huffed, tapping the tip of his nose before standing back up. "Alright, little Gandalf." Isabella chuckled, deep and guttural but fond. "Go on then. Show these wizards how it's done."

He nodded, still slightly bewildered that she even said any of that. Bewildered, yes but in a good way.

Grabbing the pet carrier and the suitcase he yelled one last goodbye, etching his mother's face into his mind before running straight for the column.

He felt a chill of absolute darkness run down his nape as he passed before popping out on the other side.

My God. That train looked awesome. All mounds of black, expertly shaped metal and deep reds and golds shaped into a powerful machine that billowed smoke from the wide pipes like a dragon. Old school but all in the best possible of ways. The hiss of steam left the air slightly more moist and warm, all that vapor settling daintily on Acher's skin like mist.

Then Acher realized that he was not at all alone on the platform. Numerous families were standing around, fussing over their children and hugging one another in last quick goodbyes. He quickly zipped through the mob, aiming for the closest open entrance of the Hogwarts Express.

"And don't go around mingling with the wrong bunch Sirius!"

The shrill command of a woman in the crowd made Acher still. Slowly he turned his head to gaze at the source.

A family, all clad in black aristocratic robes was standing out from the bunch. It was clear others were keeping a healthy amount of distance from them. Four people. A tired-looking man who was kneading a newspaper in his hands, eyes clearly fixated on an article. A woman was next to him, with stern features, jet-black hair, and thinly pressed lips she looked more like a particularly frazzled bird. In front of them stood a boy with a very sour expression, mirroring his mother almost to a tee. He also had black hair, wavy and long, again similar to his mother. He looked like a little prince, with all high cheekbones and arched eyebrows as he dismissed his mother's words with flippant sneers.

His hands were poised on his hips, mouth turned in a pout that was probably meant to be intimidating.

Honestly what a diva. Little Sirius Black, in all his glory. That aristocratic charm of his family was still clinging to him, he looked more like a Slytherin than anything else with that tight waistcoat and polished shoes. It also looked like his mother tried taming his hair, a faint sheen of some sort of hair product gleamed on top of his head.

'If that's Sirius then...' Acher's eyes trailed from the marauder-to-be to the smaller boy who was standing silently next to his mother.

Regulus Black looked like a sad, wet little duckling as he gazed at his brother with pained grey eyes. His hair, jet black yet less curly, fell around his pale face like a thick waterfall of absolute misery and gave him the faint appearance of a withered, lingering ghost.

Nobody seemed to be paying him or his disgruntled expression any mind.

Acher stared at that ashen cherub face before reaching for his magic and coiling it at the base of his palm into a small and vibrantly red ladybug. He let it go, watching as it gracefully flew through the air before settling daintily on Regulus's nose. The raven-haired boy gasped quietly, his eyes crossing as he tried to get a good look at the tiny bug. Carefully he swiped the ladybug from his nose and onto his index finger.

A small smile lit up his face as the tiny creature fluttered its wings in a little dance.

Acher huffed in satisfaction before turning towards the train and quickly ascending the small steps, disappearing within the insides of the machine.

[...]

Quiet. Nice and snuggly. A tiny space with warm lighting. The Hogwarts Express compartments were everything Acher loved. He pushed his back into the red cushion as if trying to sink into it before crossing his arms and tucking his chin like a dad getting ready to fall asleep in front of the TV.

The sounds of people mingling about in the hallway were muffled by the thick wooden doors. But the blonde could still hear snippets of conversations as the students passed by.

He let his mind wander for a long moment, in that empty yet deeply amusing way that leaves you not remembering what you thought about in the first place.

Before he could get completely wrapped up in his own musings he quickly pulled out a standard book of spells and resumed his reading on chapter 7.

Ah. Alohomora. What a quaint little spell, very powerful yet so simple in its nature. It was also such bullshit. Acher snorted. A spell that can open a lock naturally means that there must exist several other countercharms that protect people's belongings from that exact spell. Rendering alohomora virtually useless. Honestly, the fact that the spell was even mentioned in a textbook was a totally brain-dead decision. If lock anything at all, why do it with a method that is prone to failing against a first-year spell?

Acher reached for his magic and extended it out of his index finger. He then slimmed the head of the tendril before reshaping it into the form of a standard key.

"Voila," he muttered, changing the edges of the key to fit his liking.

The sudden sound of the compartment door sliding open yanked Acher out of his stupor.

A head of neatly twisted black locks poked through the entryway. The girl was clearly a first year, with innocent but keen black eyes and a sharp slope to her face. "Hello. Is there anyone sitting here besides you?"

It took Acher a whole two seconds to process the question before he reluctantly answered. "No, I don't think so."

The girl's lips raised into a satisfied smile. "Great." she then stepped fully into the compartment, putting her luggage away on the top shelves before she sat down opposite of him on the plush seat. All in neat, quick moves. She then stuck her hand out towards him.

"My name is Dorcas Meadowes. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Acher grasped her hand and shook it firmly. It was slightly more on the colder side, he noted, or maybe it was just the chilled metal ring the girl wore on her middle finger. He notices that she was also wearing a pair of elegant, light pink earrings and what looked to be a thin chain of a necklace poking out from beneath her simple robes.

"Nice earrings." he found himself saying, eyes trailed on the sparkly rocks.

The girl lit up at his words. "Thanks! I helped to transfigurate them with my mom." she angled her head, brushing some of her locks to the side to expose more of her accessory to the curious blonde.

"You made it?" he asked, impressed.

Dorcas's smile widened. "You could say that. I used my mothers' wand to help encase the rock with the metal." she wiggled the piece of jewelry. "But don't tell anyone." the girl snickered.

"I won't." he nodded. "It's pretty impressive. Looks very good too."

She puffed her chest up proudly. "Of course."

There was a loud whistle and Acher felt the train move with a gentle tug followed by the backward trail of the scenery outside the window.

"And we are off," Dorcas muttered, gazing outside.

That gentle statement was followed by a loud bang against the doors which made both Acher and Meadowes jump in their seats. The entryway opened, revealing a disheveled sandy blonde girl. She was panting, her face red and a suitcase clutched firmly in her hand. It didn't seem like she was expecting the compartment to be occupied so when her eyes settled on the two students they sort of ping-ponged between them for a few seconds. Her face, somehow, flushed even further. She straightened up and cleared her throat quickly.

"Can I- uh- I mean will you-" she began.

"Yeah, you can sit with us." Acher shrugged.

The new arrival looked at him in surprise before quickly shuffling in and closing the door. She tried putting her luggage up but it seemed to be too heavy for her small frame so Acher just heaved it up for her.

"Thanks," she grumbled. With how red her face was Tallhill was surprised he wasn't seeing steam coming out of it. She spun around as if not sure where to sit before giving up and quickly settling next to Meadowes who had to scootch a little to the side to not be partially sat on.

After that awkward display, the sandy blonde seemed to realize just how inexperienced she looked. Clearing her throat and straightening her light blue robes she declared: "I'm Marlene. Marlene McKinnon."

Acher and Dorcas introduced themselves albeit Dorcas seemed a little disgruntled. Tallhill couldn't blame her, he would also feel a bit queasy after almost being smothered by some stranger.

Meadowes's eyebrow quirked. "Did you run here?"

McKinnon carded a hand through the unruly strands of her blonde locks. "Y-Yeah. My siblings wouldn't let me go. Our parents had to pry them away from me."

"That's cute," Acher said, looking at the girl with gentle eyes. "I'm an only child." he clarified.

"Lucky," Marlene grumbled.

A high-pitched squeal came from Acher's pet carrier. He quickly opened the tiny doors and scooped the tiny bundle of blankets onto his lap.

"Is that a kitten!?" Dorcas gasped, her black eyes trained on Strúhanka in childlike excitement.

Acher ran a tentative finger up the cat's tiny snout, watching her wiggle her tiny pink nose. "Yeah." he nodded "I don't know why she's so agitated. I fed her right before I left the house." his eyebrows furrowed in worry.

"Maybe she just wants to play?" McKinnon asked, cocking her head. "My dog always barks and runs around when he wants to have fun."

"Kittens are just loud. It doesn't have to mean anything." Dorcas huffed, crossing her arms.

Marlene sent the other girl a curt glare, also crossing her arms as well as her legs as if trying to one-up the other student.

The curly blonde reached into his bag "If she wants to play then I have just the right thing for her." he pulled out a tiny ball of blue yarn "Behold! The ultimate cat toy!"

Marlene giggled. "Isn't she a little too small to be playing with yarn?"

"Besides, that's what cats of old ladies do." Dorcas snorted.

Acher shrugged before placing the ball next to the tiny kitten. "Here you go Strúhanka."

"Strúhanka?" Meadowes gazed at him questioningly. "What kind of name is that."

"I thought it was a nice name." Acher shifted in his seat. "What did you call your pet?"

"My cat's name is Mr. Whiskers." the black-haired girl declared proudly.

Instantly McKinnon descended into a fit of uncontrollable laughter "Mr. Whiskers! Hahahha! That's something my youngest brother would call a cat!"

It was Dorcas's turn to grow beat red. "S-Shut up! I bet your pet has an even stupider name!"

"Oh, so you admit it's stupid!?"

"N-No I mean-"

Acher looked between the two, unable to grasp what sort of relationship was building between them. He huffed and promptly gave up, focusing instead on the tiny bundle on his lap. Strúhanka looked fuller than before, the milk he fed her helped in turning her into a small pudgy kitten. Nice and healthy. Just as babies were supposed to be.

Strúhanka wobbled over to the ball of yarn but due to her unstable legs just ended up bumping into it. "You can do it Strúhanka," he whispered, nudging the ball closer "Come on, defeat your enemy." the kitten reached out with her paw and sunk her tiny claws into the yarn, squealing loudly "Nice." Acher praised.

He tried returning to the two girls' conversation before noticing that their banter has ended. Dorcas was looking outside the window while Marlene sat in her seat all grumpy.

"What classes are you guys excited about?" the curly blonde asked, getting back their attention.

"Transfiguration." Dorcas smiled. "I've been very adept at it since I was a child. Plus I've heard that professor McGonagall is a brilliant teacher."

He nodded before looking over to Marlene.

"Well." the straight blonde began. "I'm excited about all my classes. My goal for coming to Hogwarts is to be the best and achieve the most. So I'm going to do my best in every subject." she grinned smugly, pushing back her hair.

Acher's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Wow. That's ambitious, you think you can do such a thing?"

Marlene leaned back in her seat confidently. "It's gonna be a piece of cake."

Suddenly Dorcas chuckled with a smug expression, also leaning in her seat. Honestly, what was with them trying to mirror each other? "Well McKinnon, I'm also going to give it my all. So I expect you to follow through with all that."

Annoyance crossed Marlnenes face. "Oh don't worry about it Meadowes, you're gonna get a nice view of all my achievements when I'm at the top of the class."

Dorcas's jaw clenched. "Sorry but I'm planning on keeping that spot to myself."

Acher felt weirdly like a third wheel amongst the blazing fires of this strange rivalry that just manifested.

[...]

Once the train arrived at the station Acher was practically vibrating out of his skin. The girls send snide comments to each other the entire ride which grew old very quickly. What's worse was that in a way the two first years seemed to enjoy their fights. Though they would probably rather die than admit it. They somehow always found a way to steer the conversation back to their newly formed rivalry.

When the Hogwarts Express came to a stop the curly blonde quickly sprung up onto his feet and took down everyone's luggage.

"Eager, Tallhill?" Dorcas asked with a smile.

"I want to see the castle." he breathed out, gazing at the window and the darkened scenery behind the glass.

They squeezed through the mob of students and arrived outside. He tried to not pay too much attention to the different voices and tie colors. He feared becoming too overwhelmed with the newness and excitement of it all. The air was cold and the trees blackened by night. He looked up only to be met with a thousand star clusters peppered onto the pitch-black sky, intersected by mounds of faint purples and greens of faraway galaxies.

It took his breath away and left him standing there among the mobs of excited students. Motionless like a star.

He felt his arm being tugged suddenly "Come on Tallhill, the first years need to go that way!" it was Marlene. Her blonde hair coated a silver hue from the scattered light of the night sky.

"McKinnon." he wheezed. "The sky. The stars- are you seeing this?"

"Who cares about all of that?" she laughed. "Wait until you see the castle!"

He allowed her to tug him through the crowd and lead him to the small group of first-years.

Rubeus Hagrid stood tall next to the group. His wild mound of brown hair blended at the edges with the sheer puffiness of his frizzled beard. Acher couldn't help but gape up at the man, seeing him on screen or reading about it couldn't compare to actually seeing someone that massive in real life. And he is supposed to be a half-giant!

"Come 'ere first year's! Come 'ere!" he smiled warmly, counting all the students carefully, from one side to another.

As they were walking towards the black lake Acher wanted to chat up the man but he was sadly stuck at the tail end of the group, squeezed between Marlene and Dorcas who both had a firm grip on his robes.

Speaking of robes. The Hogwarts uniforms were incredibly cozy. Well, the white shirt wasn't a staple of comfortability but the long black cloak and pants were all lined with a softer material on the inside. Plus it fits him! Acher always had a problem with that since for his age he was quite tall and lanky. Even now his blonde head poked out from the swarm of other eleven-year-olds.

"Alright! Four people per boat!" Hagrid yelled and Acher found himself being steered toward the nearest empty yacht.

He, Dorcas, and Marlene sat together. The two girls were again opposite to him. Then a boy he didn't know hurriedly placed himself on the other side of his bench. He seemed to be separated from his friends over on the other boat and didn't look at all happy he had to be placed next to Acher.

He decides to ignore him.

Then the boat yanked forwards softly before setting into a comfortable trail along the lake.

"I heard there's a giant squid that lives in the lake. It steers the boats with its giant tentacles." Marlene whispered excitedly, taking peeks at the dark waters.

"How big is it?" he asked with interest.

"Considering it's called the giant squid it's probably quite big." Dorcas snorted, playing with the chain of her necklace.

He wanted to ask further questions but the words caught in his throat. The boats pushed through the dark foliage of the trees and Hogwarts castle graced Acher's vision like the morning sun.

It was enormous. Pitch black against the starry sky yet dotted along with the warm specks of lit-up rooms, shown through the thin carvings of intricate windows. Its many towers stood tall, sharpened by the spiky peaks of sloped roofs. The long towering corridors encased the whole castle together into unyielding walls of ages-old brick. Reinforcing its structure as something eternal, larger than life.

The edges of the structure gleamed a silver thread, woven into its brick by the tentative hand of the celestial bodies that encased it into the night sky.

Acher couldn't breathe. He could only stare longingly at the castle as if it was something completely out of his reach forever.

Until a pale hand poked his forehead firmly. "Tallhill! We are here!" Marlene called out.

Only then did he notice that they were now on the other end of the lake and everyone was getting out of their boats.

"O-Oh yeah." Acher sputtered and jumped out of the boat, accepting Dorcas's extended hand.

His feet hit the gravel and sand of the black lake and they were off to the sorting.

[...]

Acher couldn't help but shiver, his eyes trailing the high ceilings of Hogwarts hallways. The tall, stone pillars stood majestically, supporting the thick, sand-colored walls. It was quiet besides the low murmurs of their group and the distant echoes of excited conversations rolling out of the dining hall. They arrived at a wide staircase and walked up to the wide doors that would lead them to the feast.

"This is so exciting," Marlene whispered. All he could do was nod numbly.

"Welcome everyone." a familiar voice announced. McGonagall stood proudly in her dark robes. Poised in front of the doors to the great hall like a gatekeeper.

"Hi, professor!" Acher waved enthusiastically from the back of the group.

The woman sighed and cleared her throat. "Mhm. Yes. Hello Mr. Tallhill." she composed herself. "Now. Everyone listen to me." she went on to explain the sorting system and list off potential houses in the quick and efficient way he was used to her talking.

His eyes kept trailing away to marvel at the architecture and for a second while they dipped down he caught somebody's gaze.

A pair of very disgruntled black eyes.

Severus Snape was tiny. A clearly malnourished child with long, oily black hair, sickly pale skin, and a sharply hooked nose. He caught his eyes for only a second but could practically feel the suspense, wonder, and annoyance that crackled in them like fire. They flashed in confusion at Acher's incessant starting before Snape's attention was pulled away by a nearby redhead.

Tallhill didn't get to catch a glimpse of Lily Evans's face, only the back of that blazing head of red locks that turned slightly brown at the roots and gleamed a light gold with the fire of the Hogwarts torches.

There was a tug. Probably from Dorcas who realized he was spacing out again before the doors to the great hall opened and the first years trickled in.

Immediately Acher's ears were assaulted by the layered murmurs of the upper years. They whispered to each other, eyeing the newcomers from their seats and pointing out their relatives or other more known members of wizarding families.

Acher winced quietly. At least the lighting was fine. He gazed up at the tall ceiling that showed a replica of the starry sky and the various candles that dotted its expanse. Tallhill exhaled. It'll be fine. He just has to get through the sorting and he'll be able to retrieve into his new bed.

Once at the front of the great hall McGonagall stepped onto the podium and retrieved a list of students.

The first girl was called to the front and promptly sorted into Hufflepuff ten seconds after putting on the hat. Acher couldn't help but be mesmerized by the way the object moved and talked. How does a thing like that work exactly? Does it actually have a conscience or is it like a piece of AI that only does what you tell it to?

"Black Sirius." She called out and Acher flinched in his spot. The wavy-haired boy confidently strutted onto the podium though the tense line of his shoulders betrayed his nervousness. Acher could hear quiet murmurs echo from the Slytherin table.

It took Sirius whole two minutes to be sorted, well, the sorting looked more like an internal fight that the Black had to go through. His face twisted a hundred times throughout his dialogue with the hat, grey eyes snapping from the Gryffindor table to the Slytherins. Finally, the tension popped like a bubble once the hat announced "Gryffindor" and the table of lions erupted in cheers.

Black retrieved from the stool on shaky legs as his standard tie changed a brilliant red color. While he passed the unsorted first years he sent a quick smile to one of the boys with equally dark but short-cropped hair.

Three more settings passed.

"Evans Lily," McGonagall announced, and the redhead quickly jumped onto the podium and sat on the stool.

She looked lovely. A round face, pinch-able chubby cheeks, sheer eyebrows, and lashes paired with a pair of vibrant forest green eyes. The hat was on her head for a solid 30 seconds before it announced loudly "Gryffindor" and Acher heard a quiet gasp of despair at his side.

Tiny, eleven-year-old Severus Snape was left standing in the crowd of first years, watching in dismay as his one and only friend was sorted into a house he knew perfectly well he will not be sorted into.

Acher was left staring in morbid fascination at that heartbroken, pale face as if he was witnessing a tragic stage play.

Two more sortings passed.

"Lupin Remus." gaunt, tall, and scarred. The werewolf looked as if the stool he sat on would suddenly stand up and kill him. His ashen dark blonde hair fell thickly onto the scarred expanse of his face, casting shadows over the boy's deep amber eyes.

Those optics actually met his for a split second, in that awkward way when you have no idea where to look and all options seem demeaning or too awkward. Acher met those eyes head-on right before the hat called out Gryffindor and their connection broke as Lupin took off the hat.

"McKinnon Marlene."

The blonde next to Acher tensed. He gave her a reassuring look though Dorcas was more forward, shoving the girl towards the podium and making the other glare at her in annoyance. The hat was on her head for a minute, probably discussing the possibility of sending her to Slytherin for her ambitious spirit but ultimately it went for Gryffindor. Marlene gave Acher and Dorcas a smug smile as she quickly jogged over to the table of excited lions.

"Pettigrew Peter."

Acher stilled, watching a mousy blonde boy wriggle himself out of the remaining group and onto the stool.

It was the boy from the boat!

Acher couldn't properly see his features due to how dark it was on the lake. Plus he didn't really know how Pettigrew looked when he was young. The short, pudgy boy appeared extremely shy under the scrutiny of the whole school. His sorting took a minute and a half. Again, more of a battle than a sorting, the talking object seemed unsure of what to do with the young man. When it finally announced him as another Gryffindor a small smile lit up Peters's features.

"Potter James."

Oh ho.

Acher almost got whiplash with how fast his head turned to get a proper look at the boy. He was of average size for his age, with light bronze skin, a head of very messy back hair, and a pair of thinly-rimmed, circular glasses. He looked distinctly like Harry Potter but there was an air of smugness around him that the poor orphan wouldn't be able to replicate if he bent over backward.

Without turning his eyes away Acher could practically feel the contempt radiating off of Snape like potent fumes of radiation. Ha. So these two met already, and seemingly with the same result as in the original.

It took five whole seconds for James Potter to be sorted into Gryffindor.

Clapping for that felt downright redundant.

Five more people were sorted.

"Snape Severus."

The raven slowly walked onto the platform and sat down. He looked like he was simultaneously about to attempt to pass a test while also preparing to be executed. When the hat was finally on his head Acher watched as Severus's eyes trailed slowly to the Griffindor table. Curious, the curly blonde took a peek as well.

Lily Evans was talking quietly with Remus Lupin, not paying attention.

He watched those obsidian eyes fall, face wilting. Ten seconds passed before Snape was paired with the house of Snakes and the skinny boy reluctantly slid off the stool, greeted by the polite clapping of the green-clad house.

Acher watched another three people be sorted. Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Hufflepuff, one after the other the group of first years became smaller.

Only then in that weird lull of watching the people around him trickle out did Acher finally realize what he was witnessing.

He realized he was watching something which at one point was simply a piece of trivia in a story he liked.

People that never existed now walked around, breathed, and blinked. If he reached out he would touch them. If he talked they would respond.

He was in Hogwarts.

He could do magic.

He was a wizard

"Tallhill Acher."

He flinched and on instinct hurried over to the platform. Sitting down on the cold stool he was met with a wide view of the four houses, red, yellow, blue, and green arranged in neat rows, two of each.

The hat was placed on his head.

"Oh, and what do we have here?" the hat spoke, its voice echoing inside the reincarnates head.

"What do you see?" Acher asked. "Can you see my memories?"

"Memories?" the object chuckled, deep and grandfatherly. "Oh, no, no. That would be a huge invasion of privacy. What I can see, are the results of those memories."

"What results?" the blonde pressed, his previous fear evaporating, replaced by that unquenching thirst for more information he found himself indulging in more and more these days.

"Your ideals, convictions, fears, wants." the hat listed wistfully.

"Fascinating," he whispered, eyes gleaming. "What am I? Where do I belong, Sorting Hat?"

"Hm." the object pondered before stilling slightly. "Your hunger for knowledge rivals even the most determined of Ravenclaws but there's something akin to a Griffindors fire burning within your heart."

The blond found himself chuckling. "Do you say stuff like that to everyone?"

The hats laughter came out reluctant. "Most people fit into more than one house if not all of them depending on the day."
He heard something akin to a grumble. "I...place the students where I think they would flourish the best."

Acher nodded in understanding, confused at the enchanted headwear's unsure tone. Was it seeing something in his mind that it didn't like?

He could faintly hear people murmur amongst each other but was too focused on the hat's stillness to pay attention.

"But sometimes I place them where I think they would have the best influence on the house and its students."

Acher's eyes widened. "Oh." he shrugged. "I understand that."

"You do?"

He nodded.

"Even if it doesn't benefit the person the most?" the hat pressed.

"It's...an asshole move," he interjected. "But I guess I understand why you would do such a thing." he watched the long rows of students, their youthful faces trained on his form "You feel responsible for them, don't you?" he felt the object huff. "Where you place them, decides their fate. When things don't go as planned and you end up making things worse it's normal to try to fix things. Patch it up no matter how immoral the method."

"Even at the detriment of others?"

Acher smiled faintly. "As I said, it's an asshole move." he turned his gaze to the night sky, stretched across the ceiling. "Still a noble one though."

The hat stayed quiet for a few seconds before whispering gladly. "Thank you for your understanding young Acher."

"No problem." the blonde reassured.

"Slytherin!" the hat announced loudly.

Acher slid off the stool, took off the hat, and slowly made his way down the podium as his black tie transformed its color into a brilliant shade of emerald. While walking down he caught the sight of Dorcas and Marlene. They were looking at him in shock.

He waved to them, but only Dorcas seemed to be conscious enough to slowly wave back.

He made his way to the Slytherin table, feeling countless eyes trained on his tall form.

Welp. Thrown into a pit of snakes all you can do is sit down and let yourself be dragged under.

Chapter Text

The Slytherin dorm was a more than ideal space for Acher as it satisfied something deeply primal in his brain. Set within the murky waters of the black lake the wide yet cozy space had a comfortableness to it that the young blonde couldn't describe with words. The floors, columns, and ceiling were made out of slick, black marble that turned green upon contact with the light of the fireplace and the sheen of water spilling from the wide windows. All the sofas and armchairs were made of dark brown wood and set with night-green cushions, crowded around low-rise coffee tables.

Acher was vaguely aware of the other first-year Slytherins talking as he ran his finger across the wooden head of a snake that curved out of the elegant slope of a sofa armrest. All the furniture had some sort of snake iconography to it, whether it was the shape of a serpent lining the pillows or multiple vipers etched upon table legs.

"Welcome everyone!" a man I'm his early thirties announced jovially. "I'm professor Slughorn and I'm oh so excited to welcome you all into the house of Slytherin!" all the conversations hushed. "The house of the cunning and ambitious welcomes only the best of students so I hope that all of you will meet those expectations."

Acher jabbed his finger into the gaping maw of a wooden snake.

His eyes caught movement behind the window and he quickly turned his head to check it out. He met the luminous eyes of a merperson, their forehead leaned on the glass as they surveyed Acher with great interest. Their body, a silver-green twist of scales and gills, seemed to blend into the murky waters. A shock of light red hair crowned their head like a fiery halo.

Acher slowly waved towards them. They perked up and waved back with their large, webbed hand.

He suddenly wondered what kind of food such beings eat. Do they eat fish? If so what is their relationship with them, do they view them as animals the same way humans do? Or are they kin and therefore the merpeople refuse to turn them into food? Can they communicate with fish? From what he knew they don't speak the human language which means they must have their own way of communication. But what kind? You can't exactly speak underwater. Or maybe...you can? This is a world with magic so maybe such a thing would be possible.

His stomach rumbled. Ah. So that's why he suddenly thought of food. Acher didn't eat anything during the feast. Not that there wasn't enough variety in the dishes but because of a particular pet peeve of Achers. Mainly the way that the food was presented. All the dishes were sort of... clumped together. Presented on big trays and in giant bowls that anyone could pick from. Such a presentation, for lack of a better word, disgusted the blonde to no end. He couldn't really describe why it made him so queasy but something about everyone sharing the food from a handful of dishes made his skin crawl. He will have to find a way to get around tha-

"Excuse me!" a very offended voice shattered Acher's trail of thought. An upper year (judging from his height and the thin blonde stubble across his jaw Acher guessed he was about 16) was standing over him with his arms crossed and a sneer on his face. The teenager was tall with long blonde hair that reached past his broad shoulders and a pair of hardened gray eyes. "All the first years have already gone to their assigned rooms. Yet you are still here, starting at the window like a mentally impaired toddler."

The curly blonde looked around only to find that his year mates were indeed gone. Well, that's awkward. "Uh. Sorry, I'll take my leave-"

"You were also not paying attention to anything professor Slughorn said." he quirked his perfectly shaped blonde brow. With that gesture, he honestly looked more like a schoolgirl with a particularly inflated ego.

"I got distracted." Acher scratched the back of his neck, looking down at his shoes. They were still covered in sand at the sides from their excursion across the black lake.

The teenager's expression soured further. "I noticed that you didn't eat anything during the feast as well."

Acher jerked a bit. The guy had some keen eyesight if he spotted that. He supposed it was nice knowing that the upper years were looking out for the younger ones, making sure they are eating and taking care of themselves. He rocked a little at the balls of his feet, looking off to the side unsurely. "Yeah."

To his surprise, the upper year's tone turned more stern and even downright venomous (how fitting for a house of snakes). "Slytherin is a house that prides itself on unity. There will be no sticking out from the crowd or showing weird behaviors while we are in public." Acher could only look at the guy with wide eyes. "You will show up for the feast and eat like everyone else next time. Am I understood?"

Acher looked around but there were no people left in the room. Hesitantly he turned back to the blonde and nodded mutely.

The teenager only huffed before strutting out of the common room in quick, confident steps.

Acher stood motionless in the middle of the empty common room. He turned his eyes to the window only to find it empty. He exhaled.

"What's up that guy's ass," he whispered before begrudgingly dragging his feet to the boy's dorm rooms.

His room was the thirteenth door at the very end of the long, dark hallway. Acher opened it without knocking and promptly walked in which seemed to be possibly the worst type of action he could take.

Instantly three pairs of eyes turned to him.

There was Snape, Acher instantly recognized him, standing off to the left unloading his trunk, his posture curved and the boy clearly uncomfortable. Their eyes met for a split second before Acher's eyes trailed away to gaze at his other two roommates.

One of them, a short boy of brown hair and a pair of dark green eyes was leaning on the balls of his feet. He surveyed Acher top to bottom, from the tips of his worn shoes to the hem of his standard uniform, and proceeded to jut his lip in distaste. "And here is our... other roommate." his voice echoed in the uncomfortably silent room.

Acher blanked. Some kind of instinct took over his body once he quickly gazed into the boy's venomous green eyes that caused him to quickly stroll across the room towards his bed. He opened his trunk with one quick yank and began pulling out his pajamas.

Suddenly the other boy he didn't know walked up to him, his hands snug in his pockets. "My name is Hans Avery." the introduction made the blonde look up reluctantly. He was tall for his age, with short-length red hair and a pair of beady blue eyes that gazed at him with surface-level curiosity. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance." he reached out an elegant hand.

The bronze-skinned boy shook it reluctantly.

"My friend over there." he motioned lazily to the brunette. "Is Amir Mulciber."

Acher squeezed his pajama pants and nodded slowly. There was a type of tension in the air that made the boy's jaw set painfully closed. Silence filled the room, only made more awkward by the questioning quirk of Avery's brow.

"Everyone prepare to go to bed! One person from a room at a time in the bathroom, don't lag behind!" the voice of an upper year cut through the silence so suddenly it was as if the entire room flinched with achers silent jolt. The blonde grabbed his pajamas and bathroom kit quickly before standing up.

"I'll go first," he announced and quickly left the rooms closing the doors behind him in one fell swoop. "What is wrong with these people," Acher grumbled under his breath once free of the stuffy dorm.

The bathroom was a wide space decorated in light green shiny tiles, individual black stone cubicles stood tall at the end of the room, preceded by a row of sinks with a long mirror embedded into the wall. There was a separate hallway to the right that lead to the showers which Acher quickly strolled into. The showers were all separated neatly as well, into several large stalls pulled over with white shower curtains.

The place was empty. Huh. Looks like Slytherins are a bit lazier than their neat appearance let's on. Or maybe it's just that it's the first night and everyone wants to catch up with the people and start making new friends.

Friends...

Acher's nose wrinkled. Friends... He recalled his new roommates' faces and the uncomfortable silence as he was taking off his clothes in the cubicle. There was no way he was going to make friends with those three. Snape looked like he was one foot in the grave, Avery had that sleazy air about him and Mulciber looked like he viewed Acher as nothing more than a lab animal.

Warm water hit Acher's back which caused his body to instantly unclench. He was expecting a piercing cold spray before realizing that the school he was going to was very much magical and it would be very weird if the wizards couldn't even regulate the water temperature in the showers.

He quickly lathered himself up with his body wash.

Acher thought about his situation for another few seconds, his face slowly twisting before he let out an exacerbated huff.

There was no need to make friends. He was at Hogwarts to learn after all and his interference with the plot line could have drastic effects on the story. If he chose to befriend Snape or really anyone for that matter he could steer the events of the book completely and possibly change the future for the worst.

Nope. Other students weren't his problem.

He ran his palm on the smooth surface of his arms, rubbing the lavender-scented body wash into his darkened skin. Lavender and other more calming and muted scents were the only ones he could tolerate when it came to his shampoos. Anything stronger, like those dreadful 3in1 men's body washes and he would start getting sick upon getting a single whiff.

He took a solid ten minutes in the bathroom when he would normally spend a solid twenty. He decided to retreat early when the bathroom slowly started becoming flooded with other Slytherin boys. He was not about to share his bathroom space with sweaty boys. Ew. And how on earth could they be so sweaty anyways? They were wizards for God's sake, they had magic for preventing that! Well, looks like even magical people are not immune to the teenage stink.

When he returned to his dorm room he didn't spare the other boys a single glance. Quickly getting into his bed he took out a few hair clips and promptly clipped his bed curtains shut, isolating himself within the dim darkness of his own green and pillowy sleeping nook. He made sure to take Struhanka and a Charms book with him, arranging the text on his lap and the tiny kitten on his stomach. With a quick gesture, dim light flooded the space in the form of a quick Lumos he lit on his finger.

He exhaled deeply, allowing himself a few seconds to relax completely. There was something cathartic in sinking back into that familiar position. The weight of the book was like the embrace of a lover, steady and assuring.

He ran the tips of his fingers down Struhankas tiny head and the slim curve of her spine. She was sleepy, her tiny nose twitching happily with the petting.

Acher turned the page of his book looking for a particular spell.

Ha. There it was. The sticking charm in all its glory. Acher knew the clippers were not enough but he was more than determined to keep his privacy.

Now just to figure out how to use it.

[...]

Acher did not go to the dining hall in the morning. Nope. No way. He was not about to subject himself to that terrible scene of the food clamored together in one place like that. He was pretty sure he would vomit if the dry food he was trying to eat touched the wet dishes on a nearby platter.

The blonde strutted out of the dungeons early in the morning and made his way across a relatively familiar hallway.

His destination? The Hogwarts kitchens. He knew from trivia that it was located near the Hufflepuff Dorms.

And that is where his plan comes in.

Acher followed the innocuous trail of Hufflepuffs as the yellow-clad students made their way for breakfast. Well, following would be a lie. More like watched where they were coming from and made his way towards that place, going against the current if you will.

His plan was successful though not without any mishaps. An upper-year Hufflepuff was convinced he was lost and tried explaining to him where the dining hall was. He threw her off by making up a story about how he was trying to visit a friend from their house.

He also met another person who was just conveniently passing through the hallway. It was a very tired-looking Slughorn, nursing a stack of papers in one hand and trying to tame the thin mound of his salt and pepper hair out of his forehead.

Acher made a beeline for the man upon seeing the conveniently shaped papers.

"Hello professor." the blonde greeted making the man jolt out of his thoughts.

"H-Hello, um, young man-" the teacher mumbled, re-adjusting his vest in a faint attempt to seem more put together. With a quick glance at Acher's robes, he noticed the boy's deep green tie, and a smile promptly lit his features. "Oh, and what is a Slytherin doing here...um...Mr?"

"Tallhill." Acher nodded.

"Mr.Tallhill! Ah yes! Now I remember. " the man laughed jovially.

'He totally doesn't remember.' The blonde thought. "Could I get my timetable, early Professor?"

The man quirked a thin eyebrow. "Um. The timetables are given away during breakfast in the great hall Mr.Tallhill..."

Acher just kept staring at the man, slowly chipping away at his resistance with the sheer blankness of his black eyes until the professor caved in and sighed awkwardly.

"But I suppose I can give it to you early." Slughorn pulled out one of the sheets of paper and gave it to him unceremoniously. Acher snatched it out of his hand and shoved it to into the pocket of his robe.

"Thanks, Professor." the blonde chimed and promptly walked away from the man in the direction of the Hufflepuff dormitory.

He faintly heard Slughorn calling out to him about how he was 'going the wrong way' but by that point, he was too far down the hallway for it to matter.

Finally, he arrived at the portrait that kept the badgers dorms secure.

He continued to go down the hallway in quick and long strides.

About 10 meters next to the dorms was another painting, a wide image depicting a fruit bowl painted in deep, vivid colors. He reached out and lightly tickled the pair with the tip of his finger.

The laugh that chirped out of the fruit was positively adorable.

When the doors opened he was hit with a wave of pungent scents of bread, butter, meat, tea, and coffee. The air was warm and beckoned Acher inside, making him quickly cross the threshold.

"C-Can Pipsy help young master in anything?" Acher looked down upon hearing the squeaky voice calling out to him. He wasn't prepared to meet a pair of wide baby blue eyes staring right back at him. The elf at his feet was tiny and gaunt, with creamy skin that paired with the lack of hair made the creature look like a Sphynx cat. Still, her features were noticeably distinct from the likes of Dobby, with her nose being smaller and puckered higher, ears longer, floppy at the sides of her head like over-watered leaves. Her face was also longer, contrasting with her shorter stature.

Acher realized he was staring "Could I cook something for myself?" he uttered quickly as if trying to make up for the time he lost gawking.

Horror painted the little creature's face. "O-oh no! Young master, everything that you need is in the great hall! M-Master shouldn't be cooking! No no no!"

"I don't like to share my food with others." Acher huffed. "Could I...at least eat something here?"

The creature shifted on her feet, glancing from side to side with a pinched expression before caving in and sighing quietly. "M-Master may do that. Yes." she pointed at a nearby empty chair that was haphazardly pushed up to an empty part of a countertop. "Please sit over there."

He quickly sat, observing the room's interior with a keen eye. The space was big, with muted yellow walls and brown tiled flooring, complementing the marble countertops and giant metal stoves. Everywhere the elves were rushing around, trailing behind them were levitating ingredients and other utensils.

He watched mutely as a large automated knife skillfully cut up a head of red cabbage as if having a mind of its own.

A plate was placed in front of him not a moment later. Two sweet buns, still steaming, coated with raspberry jam, a bowl of small carrots, and a cup of standard British tea all clattered onto the palate.

He took a bite of the bun and hummed in satisfaction.

"Is the food alright?" the elf asked, once again at his side.

Acher nodded before pointing to the automated knife. "How does this work?"

"Pardon?" the elf glanced at the blade in confusion.

"The knife." he clarified "How does it just do that? Like, on its own."

"Well." the small creature huffed. "It's magic."

The blond's eyebrows pinched. "Yes, I know that. But how does it work?"

"From what I know Maple put that charm on the knife." Pipsy pointed at who was supposedly Maple, an elf working diligently over a slab of meat on the other end of the kitchen.

He looked at the small creature in surprise. "That's...amazing. She doesn't need to concentrate on it. It's like a significantly harder version of Leviosa yet she doesn't even need to stand there to cast it." Acher whispered, before looking down at Pipsy. "How long can this charm go on for?"

Pipsy shrugged. "Usually five to six days before it needs to be re-casted. If we need something cut we just put it on the board next to it."

The blonde watched the blade in silence for a couple of seconds, how naturally it moved, the way it automatically pushed vegetables under itself when the recent batch ended. "That is fascinating... And you can do all of that without even having a wand?"

The elf next to him nodded weakly, turning a bit red in the cheeks.

Tallhill smiled "How on earth haven't elves completely outclassed wizards at this point? Imagine all you could do with just a wand if you're this strong already?"

At the moment Pipsy paled and horror dawned on her face. "No! Young Master Tallhill cannot say such things!" she wrenched backward.

"Wha-"

He couldn't even finish that word before Pipsy apparated away with a loud pop, leaving him alone in the kitchen with the other elves.

Acher sat there silently for a few seconds before his nose scrunched at the base. "That was weird," he grumbled before reluctantly taking a bite of a small carrot.

[...]

The sheer absurdity of not being given a map dawned on Acher as soon as he left the kitchens to wander the halls of Hogwarts. It was as if the castle was begging him to get lost and explore. The insanely high ceilings, the sand-colored walls, and pillars paired with wide windows, not to mention the spiraling staircases. It was as if he walked into a painting.

Speaking of paintings. They were everywhere.

All in different colors and styles, though most were portraits of long-dead wizards. Acher greeted them all with polite nods and simple wishes which the paintings returned for the most part. Though some scoffed at him, noticeably the more posh-looking ones.

"I'm sorry Madam but would you know where theeee..." Acher looked down at his timetable. "Charms classroom is?"

The oil painting of an older woman turned her nose up. "You're way off young man. That classroom is at the other end of the school, how on earth did you even get here? The Slytherin dorm is way down and you're a first-year."

"I'm afraid I may have wandered off track." Acher shrugged.

The woman didn't seem to hear him though "Ah yes, Slyhterin. Did you know that I was also a Slytherin young man?"

"Um-"

"Well, I was. Yes~ Quite the ambitious and smart one, and beautiful of course! There was this boy in my year, a filthy little Grifindoor who despite his dislike of 'vile snakes' was quite enamored with me! He would spend all dinner just staring at me from across the room, and then had the gall to talk about how I was 'as ugly as a toad'! Hah! Those Gryfindoors really are something-"

Acher started reluctantly shuffling out of her view when it was clear she was too busy with her monologue to see him leave.

[...]

He arrived late for his charms class. Of course, nothing new. Flitwick was generous and decided not to take off points on the first day of class which Acher quietly thanked him for before jogging up to the nearest empty spot and sitting down. It was next to a window in the first row. The classroom was large and circular, baved in warm browns mixed in with cheerful deep blues. The room was half Hufflepuff and half Slytherin when it came to the student body.

Everyone seemed too nervous/excited to pay much attention to his late arrival, though he did hear a few people snicker in the back. Mostly everyone just seemed as lost as he was.

He allowed himself to gaze at the professor, the small man made up for his innocuous looks with his limitless enthusiasm that made the entire room focus on him as soon as he started speaking. It was clear Professor Flitwick loved teaching and loved children even more, his soft but determined voice gave him an air of both kindness and responsibility.

Acher liked him.

"Alright, everyone! Now that the introductions are behind us, let's get into doing some basic spellwork!" the half-goblin instructor smiled, taking out his wand which was almost the size of his entire arm.

The blonde reluctantly took out his wand, shuddering slightly at how his magic was yanked down into it like a string of metal to a magnate. He stared at the ivory exterior, the way its elegance seemed to be mocking him, eagerly awaiting what he would do next.

Flitwick distributed a feather to each person in the room with a quick spell, Acher watched as the damned object settled at his desk.

"Try using a simple Leviosa charm on the feather!" the professor proceeded to demonstrate the correct movement of the wand.

Hm. Acher folded his arms. He could do that, he has the Leviosa charm memorized to a tee as he used it all the time to lift increasingly more complex objects.

He watched a Hufflepuff student practice the movements of his wand over his own feather.

Now...just to figure out how to use a wand.

"Very good Mr. Snape!" Flitwick praised making Acher glance at the source of the commotion.

Little Severus Snape sitting in the back row managed to lift his feather up by a solid five centimeters before it fell back on the desk. Snape turned pink at the attention as the entire class was now staring at the previously hovering object I'm awe.

Acher turned back to his feather and then realized something crucial.

The "Leviosa" he was using up to that point might not have been a Leviosa at all. The charm Flitwick was performing caused the object to fly up in a semi-straight line as if erasing its gravity. Acher's charm allowed him to move the object however he wanted.

The blonde scratches his chin with a dubious expression.

So like...he doesn't know Leviosa?

He clenched his wand in his sweaty grip before pointing it at the feather. Swish and flick, he cast the charm, murmuring the spells name.

The wand pulled his magic in with such eagerness Acher gasped as if in pain. Before he could take control of his own power the coil of magic shot out of his wand in an orange flash, slicing the feather in two and leaving a black scorch mark across his desk.

"Um, Mr...Acher, was it?" Flitwick was next to him in a second, gazing at the feather with a troubled expression. "Please make sure not to be too eager and to mind your wand movements."

He heard a Slytherin girl a few rows behind him giggle.

"Yes, Professor. Sorry for causing a ruckus." the blonde nodded and apologized quietly.

"No need to apologize!" the half-goblin chirped and repaired his feather with a wordless Reparo, making sure to erase the scorch mark along with it.

Acher sighed, picking the object up and twirling it in his hand. He let it go, allowing it to drift down back onto its place.

Tallhill gazed outside at the sprawling greenery framed by the arched gothic window of the classroom and found himself looking at a peculiar hut that stood innocuously by the edge of the forbidden forest. He watched as a tall man shuffled out of the small house before disappearing door and disappearing into the woods.

He found himself completely forgetting about any sort of assignment as his attention was pulled in a wildly different direction.

Chapter Text

As it was Acher's first year his schedule was fairly empty, if not to say outright deserted. On most days he had up to three classes which spanned from one hour to an hour and fifteen minutes with wide gaps for dinner and general breaks scattered between.

Therefore right after his Charms class finished Acher came barreling down the Hogwarts stairs and through a side door of the castle.

The late morning air hit him square in the face as soon as he heaved open the heavy oak doors and stepped outside.

The rolling dark green hills greeted him kindly, gracing his eyes with their full expanse that sloped down gently into the black foliage of the forbidden forest. Behind the sharp edge of woodland, standing proud in the distance sat tall mountains bearing caps of white ice that shone like beacons in the background of the early skies, echoing in his vision in a circular rainbow. It all sent Acher spiraling, that distant yet overbearing feeling of nostalgia and a thirst for the unknown seized his heart in a deliciously tragic squeeze that left him gasping softly. He stepped onto the stone stairs that lead down the hill from Hogwarts, taking a few seconds to appreciate just how old the black stone was, consumed by moss and weeds at the edges.

He walked down this path for maybe two minutes before whispering 'fuck it' and going off track to run around the green fields. Daisies, clovers, and forget-me-nots were scattered around the hills, bees and butterflies fluttering from flower to flower like deleted parents pampering their children, giving all of their attention to each individual bud.

Acher heard the distinct flutter of wings.

"Hatchling!" Maly Rytier dropped from the sky in a few quick flutters, landing on his shoulder by catching onto his uniform with his tiny bird claws. "No class? This early?"

"I'm on break," Acher explained.

"Why not with other hatchlings?" the bird inquired "You have to know other hatchlings. So when you're older you can puff up your chest and attract those sing-song birds."

Acher's nose scrunched. "I don't think it works like that Rytier."

The bird puffed up his chest as if trying to prove something.

Acher rolled his eyes before pausing. "Have there been any owls around my house a few weeks ago?"

Rytier tilted his tiny head before replying dubiously. "Yea. There was this wide-eyed wobble head with some letter."

Acher quirked his eyebrow at the bird "And what happened to him?"

The tiny animal shrugged his wings. "He flew onto foreign territory. We pecked him until he left."

Tallhill sighed, cranking his head up to the sky with a defeated expression. "And what happened to the letter?"

"I didn't know it was important!" he squealed. "One of the sparrows...may or may not have used it for building her nest."

Acher sighed in exacerbation. "Well," he huffed "Whatever." The blonde focused on surveying the black line of the forest, spiky and compacted, the trees weaving into each other like black wires.

He continued forward, down the unmarked lane.

"Anything interesting? Up there in the skies?" Tallhill inquired.

The bird perked up. "There's a big Phoenix! Very hot-headed one. Quite self-obsessed but good-hearted."

The blonde looked at his companion with surprise. "He flies around here?"

"Of course. He lives up in one of the highest towers." Rytier motioned vaguely with the span of his wing.

Acher hummed. That made sense actually, it would be downright stupid to assume such a massive bird would just sit in the same room from dusk to dawn. Even if he was, technically, Dumbledore's pet.

"Oh yeah." The boy stopped in his tracks. "Dumbledore."

He honestly to God forgot about the old coot. He was at the opening ceremony, for sure, since he was the headmaster but Acher couldn't recall anything besides the wizards' mellow voice and the fact that he was wearing a particularly stark purple robe. It was like in the blur of panic and disgust over the food he only managed to register a vague sliver of his being.

Acher smacked his forehead. "Ugh." he groaned. "I seriously need to be more observant."

Rytier just cocked his head to the side before quickly snatching a golden hair from his head.

"Ow." Acher hissed. "You know I can just give you the ones that have already fallen out right?"

"I know." he honest to God giggled. "But it's more fun this way!" he flew away with the quick flutter of his tiny wings.

The boy messages the sore spot on his skull with a frustrated huff.

He reached the edge of the forest, staring into its blackened insides that extended deeper and deeper into a wild mesh of blacks and dark greens. In the late morning light, the trims of the leaves looked nearly blue as they swayed with the coils of the air.

"It's like a void," Acher whispered, unable to tear his gaze away from the otherworldly sight. He remembered if vaguely, the dark creatures that lingered within these woods, and despite their less then stellar reputation he couldn't help but feel the creeping need to step into the forest and allow the massive woodland to guide him deeper. Uncaring of any foes that might stand in his way.

His eyes burned, and so did the wand in his pocket.

"The forest is not a good place for lads like ye I'm afraid." Hagrids distinct gruff voice pulled Acher out of the cloying whirlpool of his thoughts.

He reluctantly turned his gaze away from the foliage to meet the giant's deep brown eyes.

Man, he must have been out of it pretty bad if he didn't hear or see this 12 feet in height of a man approaching. He was, by all means rugged, yet in no way unkept, his frizzy beard and hair was clearly washed thoroughly, and so were his clothes. A tightly mended overcoat, a thick checkered shirt, and a pair of wide, brown pants, clearly mended at the bottom to extend their length. The man held an axe with one hand, obviously angled away in the least threatening way. Well, as least threatening as a 12 feet tall man with an axe could get.

"Is it because it's dangerous?" Acher asked innocently, turning his gaze up to the leafed edges of the trees.

"That's right." the groundskeeper huffed. "Lots of nasty creatures in these woods I tell ya. Ye should know this by now lad."

The comment had Acher gazing at the bushy-haired man with a quirked eyebrow. "I'm a first-year."

Hagrids eyebrows raised in surprise. "Oh. Sorry, ey. Ye looked like a second year to me."

"Nah." Acher shrugged. "I'm just tall."

You watched as the man there his head back and laughed, he chuckles deep and guttural. "Well, I get how ye feel lad. When I was yer age a few students thought I was a teacher!"

Acher turned to the man, to give him his full attention. That decision however did not seem to play in his favor, as the movement exposed his distinctly green tie.

Hagrid froze, his eyes trailed on the piece of clothing and a small, barely visible spark of resentment flickered across his features before it was schooled back into his usual friendly demeanor.

"Do you not like Slytheirns Mr. Hagrid?" Acher asked.

To Tallhills amusement the man's face instantly flared a brilliant red. "Well- Um. Ye sure are an 'onest lad."

Acher just shrugged again, tipping back and forth at the balls of his feet.

"Me and that house 'ave an, um, rocky 'istory, let's just say." Hagrid cleared his throat.

"I get that." Acher nodded.

"Ye do?"

"Yes. A lot of Slytheirns have pretty snobby personalities. Though you have to remember that it gets pretty stuffy in the dungeons, we don't know how much of their behavior is caused by the lack of sunlight and clean air."

For a second the man only stared at the blonde before he burst out laughing, even harder than before.

He watched as Hagrid finished chuckling, the giant wiping a sizable tear from the corner of his eye. "Ye truly are something." To Acher's utter bewilderment, the man clapped his back, nearly knocking him off his feet. "Yer not like those other snakes."

"I would say I'm not much of a snake at all." The blonde mumbled, massaging his lower back to get rid of the dull ache that now resided in his abused bones.

"Why are ye in Slytherin then?"

The blonde's face is twisted. "I can't really say. Some things are supposed to stay between the hat and the student."

Hagrids bushy eyebrows raised in surprise and mild interest. "Ain't that a thought." After a beat of silence, the giant scratched the back of his neck with resolve. "Well, anyhow. Yer not supposed to be here lad. So go back to the castle, ya need to be punctual."

Acher looked into the forest wistfully. "Were you ever punctual Mr. Hagrid?"

Another peel of rumbled laughter escaped the man's throat. "Not a day in my life lad!"

[...]

The fact that flying was planned right after charms was somehow infinitely more bewildering to Acher than the sheer absurdity of a levitating broomstick itself. It just seems so...contradictory? He was expecting potions or some other low-energy activity, and not what's basically "Child endangerment 101"

"Up." the blonde called out, in sync with all the other first year's. Coincidentally the class was shared with Gryfindoors, the same as in the book. He was starting to suspect that the whole "Snakes vs Lions" rivalry was actually encouraged by the school itself, seeing as the competing houses were constantly squeezed into the same room and egged on by house points.

Upon his command, Tallhill flinched feeling a long and thin arm of his magic sprout out from his palm. Once it connected to the broomstick goosebumps covered the back of his neck at the sensation. Not only could he feel the wood, but also the strange and fleshy inside of it.

Acher frowned.

What on earth is in there?

He was so caught off guard he barely managed to catch the damn thing as it sprung up into his palm.

He got a good feel for the wooden thing, squeezing it in his hands a couple of times and poking around it with his magic. It was like a clump of residue cloth was shoved in the middle of the stick, all shriveled up and torn, sticking to every crevice inside the broom.

Acher frowned.

He looked around. The class was split about 50/50 between those who already had their brooms in their hands and those who didn't.

Well, if he didn't know what was inside a broom then one of these people has to know.

|~|

James Potter was ecstatic. Not only did he get into Gryffindor (though he would never admit he was anxious about that as it was practically expected of him) but he was also incredibly lucky when it came to his roommates. Sirius Black, the boy standing next to him gazing critically at the splintered broom in his hands, was, despite his family reputation, actually really nice! He had that carefree attitude to him that matched perfectly with the brilliant red of Gryfindoor that they were all sporting on their neckties. James honestly didn't really believe he came from a house of snakes. How? He looks like a lion already with that huge mane of hair and sharp eyes.

Potter huffed in satisfaction as the broom flew up to his palm upon the first command.

"Nice!" Sirius elbowed him lightly with a boyish grin.

He readjusted his glasses with a smirk. "Of course, I've been flying since I was seven."

Sirius pursed his lips before smiling cheekily. "Well, I have since I was six."

James furrowed his eyebrows, putting his hands on his hips defiantly "Hm. I actually think I may have been five when I first stepped on a broom."

"Oh yeah. Well, my father says that the first time I ever flew was when I was four."

James huffed, turning to the boy fully with an annoyed expression "That's not true! You couldn't possibly have-"

"Um." a meek voice called out from behind Sirius.

"Oh hey, Lupin!" Black immediately greeted the boy. Remus was a tall fellow, with sandy hair and pale skin that contrasted with his complexion and the scars littering it more prominent. James honestly thought that Remus's scars were badass and didn't understand why the boy seemed so self-cautious of them with the way he was constantly pulling his bangs down. James wanted to strike up more conversations with Lupin though he didn't get many chances to do so as half the time Sirius would steal the tall boys' attention.

"How do you guys do that exactly? The whole broom thing I mean. Mine doesn't even flinch." Remus asked with a red face.

Sirius pounced eagerly on the opportunity to help the boy. "That's easy! You just have to command it. Exert your power over the broom like you're mounting a steed."

The sandy-haired boy gazed at the Gryffindor aristocrat completely at a loss. "Um. I think I tried doing that. Maybe not the whole 'steed thing' but I certainly tried to command it."

"You should probably try to connect with it instead." a new voice made James and his roommates startle.

A boy stood behind Sirius. Clearly a foreigner of some kind, with bronze skin and a head of molten gold hair that would be befitting of a Gryfindoor if not for the boy's startling green robes. His onyx eyes looked at Remus with childish indifference laced with something so intense Potter found himself shivering despite not being the recipient of the eager gaze. He vaguely recognized him from the sorting but probably only because he was taller by about half a head than most of the other first years.

"Excuse me?" Remus cocked his head to the side.

"The broomstick." the stranger clarified. "If commanding doesn't work, then try to think of the broom as an extension of your being and bind to it. Think of it like waking up an asleep limb."

Sirius huffed, glaring at the blonde boy "And what would you know about that huh? What are you, some kind of broom expert?"

"Quite the opposite actually." the Slytherin responded, his face strangely stoic no matter what words left his mouth. Not that his tone would indicate any sort of strong emotions either. "I actually wanted to ask, do you guys know what's inside of a broom? The teacher just told me it's wood but that can't be right."

Sirius barked out a laugh "Definitely not an expert then!"

James quirked an eyebrow at that. "There is just wood inside. I've broken many brooms before so I can attest to that."

The Slytherin let out an honest-to-Merlin huff, looking down at the broom like it personally offended him before walking away without even saying a word back.

"What a weirdo." Sirius snorted.

James just nodded unsurely. That was probably the weirdest interaction he's had so far in Hogwarts, and it came from one of the most aloof and prestigious houses in the school. Potter always looked at the snakes with no considerable amount of both resentment and awe (though he would never admit that second one out loud). They were so poised, curled around each other like an inky green swarm, wearing their chunky heirship rings and being not at all subtle about how better they thought they were than everyone else. James got a taste of that Slytherin treatment early on in his life during his sparse participation in various balls. The few dark families he brushed up against were all like that, silky smooth yet razor sharp, clad in black as if every day was a funeral. So to have a person such as that boy come up to him and act so differently from what James had been expecting was jarring, to say the least.

"I did it!" Remus's joyous cheer interrupted James's languid trail of thought. The tall boy was now sporting a big grin on his face, hand clenched around his broom that just hopped into his palm. "I connected with it," Lupin mumbled. "It was easier than I expected once I understood what he meant." He promptly looked around, trying to find the strange Slytheirn again.

"Hm." Potter gazed at Remus's broom absentmindedly. "Maybe he did know what he was talking about."

Sirius just scoffed.

Soon it was time for everyone who had their broom ready to get on it and start their real flying lessons. Sirius and James were in the air in no time, though they begrudgingly stuck to the height limit set by the teacher, hovering at a relatively medium altitude.

"This is so boring." Black groaned. "If I were at home right now, I would be so much higher."

James just giggled a bit, twirling around in a circle on his broom. "You okay there Remus?" he looked down to watch the sandy-haired boy adjusting his weight on the flying object, only a few feet off the dewy grass.

"Y-Yeah," Lupin answered, keeping a white-knuckled grip on the handle of his broom, his body shaking like a leaf.

"You're getting there Remus!" Sirius shouted trying to encourage the boy which only seemed to make him worse at keeping his balance.

With his face red and arms shaking Lupin soon reached their height. He inhaled deeply, panting like he just ran a marathon. "Ugh, I gave myself a stomach ache."

Sirius and James barked out a laugh, causing the other boy to be even more red in the face.

James spotted someone behind Lupin flying up. It was that boy again! He seemed pretty steady on the broom, though was clearly not overly familiar with it.

Nothing could prepare him for what was about to happen next.

He watched as the blonde stopped then lifted his hands into the air and with possibly the most deadpan face yelled: "Oh no! Something is wrong with my broom!"

Then, possibly in the most baffling moment of James's life, he watched as the Slytherin let go of the control he had on his broom causing him to tip sideways and start pummeling towards the ground.

Potter's jaw dropped.

The Slytherin's words left him so stunned he could do nothing but sit there and watch as the tall boy hit the ground with the characteristic snap of a wooden handle.

Instantly the courtyard erupted, people were yelling and pointing fingers, a boy from Gryffindor even started crying convinced the blonde had died.

James looked to the side, catching Sirius's and Remus's horrified gazes before they quickly flew back down to the ground, running up to the fallen boy.

Then, in possibly the most anticlimactic way possible the Slytherin boy just...sat up. Shaking grass and splinters out of his golden hair he took his broken broom and began to inspect the exact location where the wood snapped in half. After a few seconds of seemingly staring at nothing he huffed, disappointed.

"What on Merlins' beard is going on!" their teacher pushed aside the gaggle of students that had formed around the blonde.

The Slytherin pushed aside the broom like a broken toy. "I fell."

"Well I can see that!" the instructor hissed. She got on her knees and roughly grabbed the boy's face, inspecting it from side to side "Did you break anything?! Do you feel dizzy?"

The blonde just shook his head.

The teacher's face twisted before she grabbed his arm and lifted him to his feet. "You're going to see Madam Pomfrey anyway!" then she turned to the rest of the class with a furious look as if they were the ones that pushed the blonde off his broom. "And all of you better behave yourselves while I'm away!"

James nodded slowly with the rest of his year mates.

He watched with no small amount of bewilderment as their instructor dragged the Slytherin boy off the field.

"Do you guys think..." Remus whispered, his voice weak.

"No," Sirius hissed "There's no way."

James nodded.

There was no way on Earth that guy just purposely fell so that he could find out what is inside of a broom.

[...]

Acher totally did all of that just to find out what was inside of a broom.

And it wasn't even worth it! As far as he could tell there was really nothing inside but wood. Granted, he didn't have enough time to really properly inspect anything as the gaggle of kids that had formed around him was pretty distracting.

He did get to see the hospital wing though! It was big, with a high, sloped ceiling of dark and cold stone. The arched windows allowed beams of sheer light to penetrate the frosted glass, the frames sending dark spidery shadows over the beds.

Acher wished he could have seen more but after being examined with a few basic charms he was given a small pain potion to help the bruise on his hip and promptly flung out the door. He wasn't the only first-year getting in trouble on the first day as he saw some girl covered head to toe in a blistering red rash.

Suffice it to say he was not Pomfrey's number one priority at the moment seeing as he was practically uninjured.

So he was left just kind of standing there outside the hospital wing.

He squinted his eyes. "Have I been abandoned?" he whispered.

His teacher was nowhere in sight. She probably expected him to stay another day in the hospital wing healing whatever type of concussion she thought he had.

Acher shrugged his shoulders. Well, he could make something out of this situation.

Like for example...

Acher pursed his lips.

"Visiting the library." He realized, his words echoing across the empty hallway. "Hm. I probably should have thought of that before I purposely broke that broom."

Welp, the damage was done, quite literally in fact. So without worrying over it Acher just skipped around the unoccupied halls looking for what could be the library entrance.

He found it eventually. A large oak double door extending far higher than necessary, next to it a small plack with the words "The Library. Please speak quietly." Was embedded into the stone wall. Acher walked in.

The smell of dust and paper hit him square in the face a millisecond after he entered. The space was large and dark, lit instead by multiple smaller lamps that cast warm orange light over the towering bookshelves. There was a woman behind a desk right next to the entrance, she was old but held herself with an amount of poise you could only expect from an exceptionally colorful bird. She was carding through a small book, not sparing Acher even a glance.

He took that as his cue to just keep walking and honestly he wanted to do nothing else but that.

[...]

Honestly, the amount of spells used to do regular everyday chores was way longer then feasibly necessary. Who on earth needed an automatic kettle refilling spell?? That's so British it hurts.

He turned the page.

"Automatic batter stirring spell. With just a flick of the wand you can turn your ingredients into perfectly mixed batter." Acher huffed. "At this point you might as well remove your cerebellar cortex and every other limb beside your wand arm." He closed the book with a loud smack, reaching for a different one.

He had an entire pile of them arranged around him like a makeshift fort. Initially he told himself that he would pick three and stick to them but that ended up being way harder than it sounded.

He ended up with 29.

Acher turned the smallest book in the pile in his hands. It was bound in beaten up red leather, the pages yellowed and crinkled like someone spilled water over them more than once. What intrigued him about it initially was the title. "101 spells for offense, defense and retreat." How amazingly simple and direct.

He had been thinking a bit about spells that related to combat for some time now. What's a better way to start chipping away at future Defence Against The Dark Arts lessons than to get some basics down before the class even starts?

He flipped the first page to find the table of contents and was plesently surprised to find the entire book neatly devided into three major sections, all according to the title.

He would start with defence. That always comes in handy.

"The basic shield charm requires the user to envision a solid wall materialize in front of them. Preferably that of brick or marble. The best way to boost the strength of the shield is to keep an assured posture while casting, the wands movements should be broad and straight, is is recommended that one avoids circular motion that characterizes most spell work as such flowy movements can leave the shield spoty and weak in certain places."

Achers eyebrows quirked up in bewilderment. "I didn't know there was so much that went into just the posture." The blonde reluctantly took out his wand, instantly feeling that sharp zap of interest catching between his cold palm and the wood like static electricity.

He would prioritize getting the spells right with his wand first and then try them without it. Acher really didn't need another Leviosa situation.

"Okay." He murmured, raising his wand up. "I'll do it up there, don't want to knock anything over." He squinted, tracing the lines that made up the wand movement instructions with a keen gaze. "So...assured posture, straight movements, brick wall..."

He cast the spell, making a sharp X with his wand, as broad and fast as he could. The rush of magic down his arm felt like a giant buzzing bug was slithering through his veins and into the awaiting wand.

"Protego." Acher chanted.

Instantly after the incantation ended the X lit up like a slow acting firework. Acher had to squint against the blinding molten light of the charm before the spell fizzled out, crumbling from within up until the edges, leaving only the faint smell of smoke and copper.

The blonde sat in silence for a few seconds, watching the ceiling with a blank expression.

"Well...I guess something worked there." He shrugged.

He looked down at the instructions again.

"One of the most important aspects of the shield charm is being able to hold it for a prolonged period of time, even after rebounding a spell. A weak shield is a flimsy shield, yes, but an even weaker shield is one that stand for only a second. It is crucial that one learns how to continuously reinforce the spell."

Acher rubbed his chin. It looks like he would have to learn a bit more than he anticipated.

And so his time in the library rolled by and the more he tried the more he was thankful he took a corner right in the very corner of the library that was possibly the furthest from any current visitors. His wild wand waving made him look like was trying bat away a swarm of flies. Not to mention the various amalgamations that left the tip of his wand.

Over time however, slowly but steadily his spells became more and more coherent and less flashy, up until:

"Protego."

The shield may not have been very wide as by that point Acher was conserving energy but it was sturdy and a shimmery molten grey, closer to a midnight fog. Nothing alike his first blazing attempt. This one was smooth, leaving behind no smoke, instead dispersing into a thin mist that was warm on the blondes face.

He could still not hold it very well but at least it didn't make him look like he was trying to set something on fire.

He found out through a lot of trial and error that his first attempt largely failed on account of the sheer eagerness of his magic. He put way too much energy into a spell that required a lot of stability and layering, not to mention the fact that he didn't even attempt to hold it.

He was also, still quite disappointed with the thickness of it. It was just not enough.

Archer frowned and chanted again. "Protego."

He focused on stabilizing that stream of magic as it rushed through his limb and into the wand but didn't hold himself back too much like he did previously.

Soon a molten silver shield was hovering over him. It enchanted Acher, the way its misty exterior caught the light of the nearby lamps and reflected it outwards like a thousand microscopic crystals.

The blonde sat there transfixed by it all before letting go of the flow of magic and allowing the silver wall to disperse.

The small sparks and whisps of magic fell gently onto his skin like the subtle graze of a feather.

Out of the entire pile of books he collected, he decided to borrow just that one red book.

While returning back to the dungeons Acher red up on the other types of shields the text had to offer. There weren't many as the concept of a wall was fairly simple and straight forward one. What did catch his eye however was the distinction between "normal" shields and "absorbent" ones. The one he created before was a normal one, in that it caused the spells that hit it to bounce back.

Besides that one there was also an absorbent shield that enveloped the spells and coused them to disperse.

"Hm. I wonder if you can absorb the spells with a shield and then spit them out in a given direction." Acher mused, swinging from side to side as he walked, his nose almost buried in the yellowed pages.

An offended meow, almost closer to a growl interrupted the blondes musings. Lifting his head Acher spotted a long haired cat, adorned by a grey coat and two beady red eyes, bristling its long, white whiskers. The feline was perched atop a nearby windowsill, its butt pressed snugly to the warm glass.

Acher stopped to stare at it.

The cat was clearly some park kneazle, same as Struhanka. He briefly wondered weather or not the boys tiny kitten would grow up to also have such stark intelligence in its eyes.

The cat shifted, glaring at him.

"Hello." The boy waved.

The cat hissed as if the movement of the hand itself offended it.

Acher was not scared by the action. He liked cats, he like all the animals really, even if not all of them liked him. Birds liked him of course, but that was on the basis of him being a bird speaker, those flying rascals talk to anyone they can regardless of if they want to listen. It's because of this connection he found himself enjoying cats as much as he did. They were way quieter and in a lot of ways simpler. Their proclivity to lounging around in the sun was also something he greatly admired and related to.

After a few beats of silence the blonde shifted a bit closer and extended his hand to the cat like he usually would when greeting any animal.

The cat hissed loudly, pulling back it's ears before launching forward with its paw and scratching the blonde across his palm.

"Ow..." Acher frowned, looking down at the slow trickle of blood now pooling at the dip of his hand.

The feline jumped down from the windowsill, graced him with one more offended look before walking away with its tail raised high.

Acher watched the cat leave with a strange amount of melancholy.

"Huh..." He looked down at his bleeding hand.

"I forgot to check what was inside those bloody brooms."

Chapter Text

It was somewhere around midnight. Acher was laying in bed, his back pressed against the white, lace lined pillows. Struhanka had made the dip of his chest into a perfect sleeping spot, the tiny kitten curled up halfway beneath the soft cotton of his pajama shirt, pressing the wet tip of her nose against his skin. She was staring at the contents of the wide tome of magical creatures he was balancing on his lap with bleary but determined purple eyes as if she could actually read what was written on the pages and would have a test regarding it tomorrow.

At his side, standing upon an old silvered holster was a half used up candle, casting warm, orange light over the tall dark green curtains. Lighting them into a strange hazel hue. All that the candlelight ceased to touch was drowned in darkness.

Achers roommates were all fast asleep by now. But in the same way a sheep won't sleep when hearing howling in the distance, Acher refused to cease his studies as his mind was restless and uncaring of his tiredness.

He flipped to another page, coming face to face with an intricate drawing of a Snow Starked Wolf. Powerful creatures, yet surprisingly not the most dangerous as long as you knew what to do when coming face to face with one. They are prideful beings, traveling in packs, always seeking the cold. The key to surving an encounter with these magestic animals was presenting yourself in the most respectful way possible, they were similar to the Hippogriffs in that way.

Struhanka let out a squeaky growl, pulling her ears back and hissing at the page.

"Big, scary wolf." Acher nodded, smoothing the pad of his index finger up the kittens tiny forehead. She bristled her whiskers and chomped down on the digit with her tiny feline teeth. "Ouch. I'm already hurt, can't you see?" He showed Struhanka his bandaged hand. "What's with cats craving my blood lately." The kitten meowed and started to knead Achers skin as if nothing happened beforehand. He let it slip, not like he could ever resist those big, bug like eyes and tiny nose.

The blonde carded through the pages of the textbook before closing and pushing it to the side, too tired to start another chapter on common magical rodents. It was a third year textbook so he didn't have to read it right now anyways. Honestly, he should probably get started on potions as that's the lesson he would have in a few hours.

Acher watched the slim flame of the candle burn in complete stillness

Mindlessly he reached his hand out, allowing for a trickle of magic to escape the confines of his body and extend towards the tiny flame through his index finger. He wrapped up that tendril right underneath the fire and swept it up gently as if cradling a baby.

The flame went with it and soon he was holding fire with his magic, a single flame burning in his grasp. Hovering in mid air.

"Huh..." The blonde stared at the flame, completely dumbfounded. Struhanka also began watching the orange speck, her small head cocked to the side in interest. "So it does work on plasma..." Carefully, the boy extended the rest of his fingers, linking multiple lines of magic to the fire and slightly pushing out. The fire extended its surface area, hissing quietly like a hot coal turned on its back, its light stabbing at Achers eyes.

"I think...it's using my magic as fuel..." The boy whispered to the cat, the creature replying with a low pitched "mreow".

Gingerly Acher allowed the metalic pull of his energy to loop around and create a circular shape. The flame followed it, creating a deep, orange ring of fire.

The wizard watched his creation as it hissed and cracked, as if seeking to break free of its symmetrical confines and spread further.

"So is the nature of fire," Acher frowned.

"...who am I to deny it freedom?" The boy allowed his magic to loosen slightly and for that perfect circle to morph into a more snowflake adjacent shape. He watched it spread, mesmorized by the sheer eagerness of the flames, the way they pushed and pulled at the metalic confines of his power, filling the gaps and crevices of the darkness around him like a fiery stream.

Struhankas tiny paw hitting his lips brought Acher back to the real world.

He looked down at the panicked kitten and then gazed back up at the spreading fire before quickly snapping closed his fist, causing the fire to disappear with a strangled hiss. Darkness swallowed the world around him, the flame now but a faint whiff of grey smoke soon dispersing into nothing.

"I'm so sorry my sweet..." Acher apologized, cradling Struhanka close, pushing his face into her thin fur. She meowed, pressing an offended paw against his nose. "You're right. That was way too much fire..." He couldn't see her face but he knew she was glaring at him. Still, he couldn't help but bask in the comfort of her warm ribcage and the thin whiskers tickling his temple.

"You're right... No more magic for today. We better go to sleep now." Acher readjusted himself to the corner, pushing his slightly sweaty back against the cool wall. He cradled the feline to his chest, allowing her tiny claws to grab onto his pajamas.

Through the haze of sleep, as his eyes adjusted slightly to the all consuming shadows Acher could see the vauge outline of the candle and the silver tray holding it.

"I think," Acher whispered to Struhanka. "I want to learn more magic that regards the elements."

He fell asleep, dreaming of flame and darkness.

[...]

The next day Acher ate breakfast in the kitchens. He decided on three hard boiled eggs, some yoghurt, two pieces of toast with cheese and a cup of jasmine tea. By the time he was done the elves were ushering him out the door and scolding him for not minding the time as he was almost late for potions.

When he reached the dungeons all his classmates were already in the room and choosing seats.

The classroom was shrouded in darkness, with a low, stone ceiling illuminated by stray lanterns. Wide shelves lined the blackened walls, stacked top to bottom with glass bottles, the strange liquids they contained reflecting the vauge, orange candle light into an unnerving rainbow that scattered through the potions like a mosaic.

The air was stale permeated with some strange smell that made the back of Achers throat tingle.

Looking around Acher sat at one of the closest unoccupied seats, next to a small Ravenclaw girl that visibly flinched once he plopped himself down. Her face was round, her cheeks lined with baby fat and eyes curtained by long, doll-like eyelashes. A light blue bandana covered her forehead, pushing back the silky cloud of her dark curls. She quickly looked at him but since he was already staring their eyes met causing her to squeal quietly and turn her gaze as far away from him as possible.

Acher didn't know what to make of that interaction so he just took out his school supplies and began carding through his potions textbook.

Huh. Polyjuice Potion. Simply looking at the ingredients list made Tallhill feel dizzy. It was more like a shopping list of a six member family with how long it was. And what on earth is "Albino Haircrow feather"? "Ditzy mixture"? "Rockwood sprinkle"? Acher frowned, carding through the next few pages. This was some pretty advanced stuff for a first year to have in their book. Than again the textbook was supposed to be used in year one through three.

He was halfway through reading up on the necessary temperature needed to boil German Brownberries when he realized someone was actually lecturing the class. He looked up from his textbook only to see Professor Slughorn jovially parading around at the front of the room.

"And that's all you need to know regarding safety! Now that we have all of that behind us, let's get down to some brewing, shall we?" The man clapped his hands. "All of you stand up and let's move over to the brewing section of the classroom. Be sure to take your textbooks and potion kits!"

Acher was not surprised once he realized they were supposed to pair up during brewing with the person they sat with. He briefly did however wish he had chosen someone more familiar to sit with.

Then he realized he didn't really have any friends so that thought was absolutely useless.

So he was stuck with an unknown to him Ravenclaw as the two of them crowded around a singular small cauldron of steaming water in silence.

Acher looked down at his textbook then back at the girl. "Um...so like. What are we supposed to be doing?" The Ravenclaw looked at him with a lost expression. "Sorry. I didn't listen to what Slughorn was saying."

"Oh!" She squeaked, fumbling with her own potions book. "Well, um, a-apparently we are supposed to be making a small healing po-potion?" She showed him the picture of a small bottle of light green liquid.

He looked at it blankly before carding through his book to the appropriate chapter. "Okay." He agreed.

Silence encompass the two. Acher lifted his gaze and stated at the Ravenclaw who stared back at him just as blankly.

After what felt like solid five seconds the girl snapped out of her stupor. Somehow, even through the dark hue of her skin Acher could see a deep flush encompass the girls face. She stood up "I'll go get the ingredients!" And left for the shelves on the other end of the room, her robes fluttering behind her like the feathers of a bird caught in a storm.

To say the whole ordeal was awkward would be an understatement. The girl was so nervous Acher started wandering weather or not his delinquent reputation followed him all the way from kindergarten to Hogwarts. How else would you explain her constant fidgeting and the way she avoided his gaze no matter how hard he stared at her? Luckily, despite the lack of communication between the two they actually made quite the efficient team. Acher focused for the most part on cutting up the ingredients and giving it to his partner for her to appropriately incorporate into the potion, he also left all the stirring to her which he for the love of god could not understand. How on earth does mixing direction change the properties of the potion? Another thing he would have to find out later.

Acher watched intently as the mineral powder dissolved in the liquid causing it to flare up a smooth green color.

He sniffed. "So like. What if you added other stuff to it?"

The Ravenclaw looked around nervously before answering. "Like what...?"

Tallhill shrugged, picking up the knife that's been chilling on his cutting board. It was a nice knife, properly sharp and straight at the bottom with a strong wooden hilt. "Dunno...what even would make a healing potion stronger?"

The question seemed to break a part of the girl shell. She straightened a bit, nervously smoothing down the edges of her headband. "W-Well, herbs for the most part! Even ones that are usually used in muggle medicine- such at Chamomile or Ginger!"

Acher hummed. "Hmmm...what about if we added blood or something?" He mused to himself, twirling his knife with its point imbedded in the cutting board so that it spun around it's axis.

Upon receiving no answer he looked up, his eyebrows furrowing once he saw how pale his partners face has gotten.

"W-Why would you be adding b-blood?" She stuttered, wringing her hands.

Acher turned his eyes up to the ceiling, scratching the side of his nose. "Well, like, I'm just assuming that alot of potions in some ways connect to the state of someone's health are going to require...like...body parts? I don't know, i just think it connects like that." Didn't it work that way? That's what Acher was expecting at least, in his mind if you want to heal a bone you require a bone the same way if you want to wear a cotton dress you need cotton to make it.

He looked back down only to see the girl now sweating profusely, looking at the blade he was twirling in his palm. "Not that I would know anything about that." He shrugged, better not to be too confident when he doesn't know all the details.

"Yea-Yeah!" The girl nodded quickly.

Slughorn suddenly decided to show up at their station, his appearance so sudden even Acher flinched slightly.

"Ah, and what do we have here!" The man laughed, bending over to inspect the potion. He hummed, pulling out his wand and swirling the liquid around with a circular spell. "That's very good for your fist try!" Slughorn turned to Acher, patting him on the back.

"Its all thanks to my partner, she did most of the work of adding the ingredients, stirring and measuring." The blonde stated matter of factly. He was absolutely not about to make himself the genius here, seeing as all he did was cut a couple things and stare at the ceiling. Plus the Ravenclaw seemed to actually, properly enjoy potions which he had to admit he was not a huge fan of.

The Ravenclaw looked at him in surprise.

"Oh. Hmph. Of course!" The profesor laughed awkawardly, turning to the girl. "Five points to Ravenclaw Ms...um..."

"Ana. Dalia Ana..." The girl looked down at her lap, face aflame.

"Ms Ana! Very fine potion indeed!" The man laughed before turning on his heel and leaving to leer at another groups cauldron.

With that disturbance gone Acher started cleaning his cutting board with a cloth provided in his potion kit. It was made of some kind of special material that caused it to strip even the most stained areas of the wood. Honestly, mad useful but it also made his palms itch a bit.

"T-Thank you." Dalia suddenly said, tilting her head in a flustered bow.

The blonde looked up at her confused. "No problem?"

"It's just that- you know! You could have taken those points for your own house..." She mumbled at the end, hastily bottling the healing potion in a big, round flask.

Acher shrugged again as he strapped his knife back into the toolkit. "I don't really care about house points."

"Oh!" Dalia exclaimed causing Acher to look up at her questioningly. "Sorry, it's just that I've been told that...S-Slytherins can be very...um...competitive? Or so I've heard!" She snapped her textbook shut, avoiding his eyes as she pushed it into her bag. "My housemates told me so..."

The boy hummed "Do you think it's because of the Slytherin and Gryffindor rivalry?"

Dalia tilted her head forward, getting a bit closer to him as if he was telling her some sort of secret. "I-I'm not sure? Do you think it's because of it?"

Acher nodded, pushing the cutting board back into its place at the back of the kit before closing it shut. "It's fairly obvious that Gryffindor and Slytherin are houses that are meant to compete with one another. They are after all opposites in everything but one trait. Determination." He and the girl made proper eye contact for the first time since they sat together and Acher got to watch the gears turn in her head through the window of her dark brown eyes. "And this rivalry...well it's encouraged by the school itself. This 'us vs them' is a feature of Hogwarts."

"But then..." Dalia mumbled "Why is Slytherin portrayed as much more competitive and vicious than the other houses?"

The blonde squinted, allowing for a bubble of silence to form around them as he thought. He recalled his first day and the uncomfortable atmosphere of his dorm room, the way the other two boys sneered at him, analyzing the state of his uniform and belongings. He recalled the tall blonde teenager and how angry he was at Achers lack of attention, the way his eyes shone with self righteous malice.

"Probably because...snakes are quite vicious creatures." The bronze skinned boy smiled ever so slightly, dark eyes crinkling.

[...]

The transfiguration classroom became one of Achers favorites from the moment he walked in. It was just the right amount of spacious, with dark orange and brown walls and a high ceiling that curved at the top into a smooth, windowed dome. It perfectly displayed the overcast sky.

Acher was not about to waste time in picking his seat, aiming to be just right at the front to perfectly see Minerva's skill in action. To his dismay however, almost all the spots at the front were occupied. He quickly crossed the parameters of the room, noticing the last remaining spot over to the left. Acher snagged it at the last second, plopping down heavily onto the seat and placing his book bag onto the desk for good measure.

He exhaled, satisfaction setting in his veins.

Then he turned to the side only to meet a pair of electric green optics staring back at him in bewilderment.

Lily Evans was striking in every way imaginable. Her hair, a tangle of deep copper cascaded down her shoulders and back framing the heart shaped edge of her pudgy face. Her eyebrows were sheer, chin small and nose freckled ever so slightly as if flared only from brief exposure to the sun. It dawned on Acher that she looked very much like a fairy. Some form of fire fairy propably. One that would cause wild fires and visit camp sites just to roll around in the left over ash.

"Oh! You're that boy! The one that fell from his broom during practice!" Lily exclaimed, pointing at him with her tiny finger.

They stared at each other for a couple more seconds before Acher replied: "Huh...yeah...you do really look like a fairy."

The girl cocked her head to the side. "Fairy? Don't they look like little flying critters though? I've seen them in our textbook."

He shook his head. "No, I'm talking about the Australian Fire Fairy. They look different."

"How so?" She asked, intrigued.

"They are very pale but have bushy red hair and thin crystal wings that look like small flames." Acher motioned with his fingers, mimicking an outline of a tiny body. "They are known to cause wild fires and are very outgoing and mischievous."

Lily grinned, "That's so cute!"

Tallhill nodded, "They are very cute."

Suddenly a ruckus erupted in the classroom, halting their conversation. Acher looked to the source of people's excitement only to spot a grey cat trot across the teacher desk and sit down innocuously at the very edge to survey the students. It was standard in size, with short fur and distinct yellow eyes.

Ha. He recognized that cat.

"Hellow professor!" Acher waved to the animal, earning a few confused looks from the nearby students and especially one from Lily.

The cat shot him an exacerbated glance.

Then, right in front of his eyes the cat jumped down from it's perch and midway through its descent reshaped itself into Professor McGonagall. The woman straightened her black dress and readjusted the pointy hat on top of her head as all the students scrambled to their seats in panic.

McGonagall cleared her throat "Hello everyone. I am pleased to see all of you present on your first transfiguration lesson."

Her explanations were nothing but stellar, it was clear the woman was both a fan of the subject as well as teaching itself. Minerva's descriptions were short and to the point. Acher even found himself listening, no matter how the windowed dome beckoned his eyes upwards, tempting him to get lost in thought.

"We shall waste no time on trivial matters and get right down to your first exercise." The woman announced and with a flick of her long wand distributed toothpicks to each student in the class, one per person. Acher watched his toothpick settle itself gingerly on the wood of his desk. "Your first task will be changing this wooden toothpick into a steel sowing needle. You will be judged on the look of the material and the overall shape. Be sure to not forget the hole in which you put the thread!"

Tallhill picked up his toothpick and rolled it between his fingers, trying to better feel the material.

"This is so exciting!" Lily whisper-giggled to him.

He nodded. "It is. Transfiguration is extremely useful, propably the most useful magical art out there." Acher concentrated on pulling his magic from the tips of his fingers, allowing it to sheath itself around the stick and squeeze it gently.

He startled as Lily suddenly patted him on the shoulder. "No silly! You have to get your wand out first!" She laughed.

"Oh...yeah." he awkwardly reached into his pocket, pulling out the ivory stick and jerking a bit when the wand gripped him back hungrily. Placing the toothpick back onto the desk he let his wand hover over the object. To his annoyence he found himself struggling to pull a tendril of magic out of his wand that was small and steady enough to not absolutely eviscerate the toothpick upon first contact. Acher glared at his wand but his disgruntlement seemed to absolutely not faze the sentient object.

"Oh whatever..." He grumbled under his breath, taking the toothpick back into his hand. Acher pretended to cast the spell with his wand only to pull the magic through his finger tips and directly into the tiny stick. Tallhill easily imagined the smooth metal surface of a needle, the loop of the tiny hole at the end and the sharp tip pulling it's surface right at the very top.

Soon he had a sturdy steel needle resting in his hand.

"Wow!" Lily exclaimed. "That's amazing, you did it so fast!" She turned back to her now grey toothpick with a pout. "Mine only changed color..."

The blonde observed Evans' disgruntled expression before looking back to her unfinished exercise. "Hm...well, I think you might not be imagining it right."

"Oh, what do you mean?" She looked at him quizzically before turning back to her work and holding it up against the light to assess it better.

"I think you're imagining an entire needle and then trying to project it onto the toothpick." Acher explained. "You might want to try going for material first, shape second and then the details."

The girl picked apart his words for a few seconds before nodding. Closing her eyes she motioning with her wand over the toothpick. Lily cast the spell, concentrating for a short while.

Acher watched as the surface of her toothpick wobbled and reshaped, flashing a few different shades of grey. The needle bent and squirmed as a hole suddenly carved itself at it's very top before the whole object dropped still as Lily opened her eyes.

"Oh wow!" The girl cheered once again, fawning over her very own needle. She picked it up gingerly, cradling it with her fingers. "It worked! It worked!" Lily turned to him, her green eyes bright with amazement. "I can't believe I managed to do it on my first try."

He hummed giving her a small smile which seemed to catch the girl slightly off guard.

"Mr Tallhill and Ms Evans." Minerva walked over to their table, surveying their work with critical eyes before they widened slightly in pleasant surprise. She extended her hand and both Acher and Lily gave her their needles which she proceeded to analyze more thoroughly, turning them in her palms. She gave them both a proud smile. "Excellent work you two. Ms Evans yours is a little too blunt but still very good for your first try." Lily took the comment with a small nod and a blush over her cheeks. "Ten points to both Gryffindor and Slytherin." She proceeded to show the needles to the class, some of the children standing up in their seats to see the objects better, other jutting down notes.

Lily giggled excitedly, grabbing Achers arm. "On my first day no less! Ten points!" Her wide grin was practically blinding.

The class finally wrapped up. As Acher was putting things away into his bookbag his eye caught the dark red shade of the spell tome he acquired the other day. He fished it out, turning it over in his hands with a thoughtful expression.

He wanted to learn spells regarding the elements but he also knew that getting the basics of offense and defence was more than crucial. The blonde carded through the pages with one hand, the other one adjusting the strap of his bookbag as he briskly left the classroom. Acher would start small with things like the Expelliarmus and work his way up to more malicious spells that required more force.

His dark gaze slid across the table of contents, taking mental notes of everything that seemed the most important.

When he was halfway down the hall somebody suddenly shoved him.

Well...more like tried to anyway.

See, Acher was by all means a big guy, not only in height but his weight always tipped more to the heavier side as well. He wasn't necessary fat but his body seemed to be perfectly comfortable with a couple extra kilos and at that weight it stayed. So when this other person tried walking up from behind him just to shove Achers shoulder with his he ended up bouncing off of the blonde like a rubber ball encountering a brick wall.

Acher stilled and looked at his assailant in confusion.

James Potter was profoundly red in the face, hair disheveled and panting as if he ran up to Acher just to catch up with him.

Potter grew even more red under the blondes quizzical gaze before he quickly straightened himself out.

"You," He pointed an accusatory finger at the Slytherin "D-Don't get too cocky!"
With that the black haired boy spun on his heel and than stomped away as if the devil was nipping at his heels.

Tallhill watched him leave, face as blank as his mind.

"...what?"

Chapter Text

Acher continued his studies vigorously and thoroughly (at least the things he liked). By the end of the first week he made a sort of mental list of his favorite and least favorite classes. Not that there were any which he hated.

Charms, herbology, astronomy, transfiguration and defense were at the very top, charms especially as Flitwick continued to be an absolutely outstanding profesor. Herbology was a close second, it was easy and not time consuming, Acher didn't exactly have a green thumb but he was smart enough to watch out for the roots and not stick his fingers where they didn't belong.

When it came to astronomy it was the beauty of it all that captivated the blonde. That brief hour of staring up at the sky and mapping out constellations as the clock neared midnight was very dear to his heart.

Transfiguration was a joy. He came to class energized and ready everytime and he made sure to never be late less he has to face McGonagall's ire. He didn't really get a chance to sit with Lily the next time as a very eager James Potter took his spot during their second lesson, much to the girls visible confusion. Acher didn't mind it, honestly.

Finally defense. So far they haven't learned any sort of spells. They have been rehearsing materials about curses and how to spot them instead which in Achers book was interesting enough for him to forgive the teacher for not allowing any wand waving until they were a month in. He was excited about the future though.

Potions and History of Magic were difficult subjects for Acher to place on that list. History because the ghost that taught the class was a dreadfully self absorbed person who seemed to know simultaneously nothing and way too much about specific aspects of history while having no idea about others. Tallhill just resorted to reading the textbook or testing his small scale transfiguration projects.

While the concept of potions was a distinctly wizard one Acher just could not get as absorbed in the art as he did with other parts of magic. It all just seemed so by the books and set in stone. He once asked Slughorn about adding a certain ingredient to a cough cure potion and weather or not that would make it stronger. The man did not answer his question and just asked him "Why on earth would you want to do that?" as if the concept of ingenuity was wholely unfamiliar to him. The whole interaction frustrated the blonde to such an extend that for the rest of the day he walked around brooding and frowning. His potions partner Dalia did make the lessons a bit more bearable as she was slowly opening up to him and becoming less shy.

While his usual studies progressed his individual exercises only picked up speed as he made his way to the "offense" section of his little red book.

Acher mastered Expelliarmus almost instantly as the spell used a "lasso" mechanism that the blonde replicated with ease. The normally quite hard action of looping your magic around someone's wand and pulling it towards you was practically second nature to him due to his extensive Leviosa studies.

Well... at least he thinks he knows Expelliarmus, he was not 100% sure since it required a sparing partner which he did not have.

The harsh sound of a spell colliding against a large, wet stone echoed across the valley. It was Saturday, the skies were grey, shadowed by a thin storm, tiny beads of water drizzled out of the sky, not quite rain, not quite mist. Warm on Acher's skin.

He was behind the castle, practicing spells on a wide open stretch of grass that sloped smoothly into the dark forest just up ahead. The boulder he was using his spells on was by now charred top to bottom in large, black scorch marks that twisted and melted down it's surface with the rain.

Acher breathed in the warm, damp air, twirling his wand as he shifted from one leg to the other. He had been practicing since morning, making himself something to eat before leaving so he could skip dinner at the castle and focus solely on spell work. So far he got through the most basic of knock back spells, using smaller rocks that he propped upon the big boulder to push them off of it. He was now going through scorching spells. Interestingly these spells used what's called "pseudo fire", meaning they immitated the pain and the subtle shape of flames upon impact with the target without actually beating as damaging as plasma.

Tallhill chucked another scorching hex at the boulder, watching the way his magic burst against the rock in a small fiery zap.
The spell was a deep red, turning almost black at the corners making it blend across the scorch marks of the stone.

These spells were downring perfect for Achers wand, short and filled with power, they had the sentient object in Tallhills palm giggling excitedly with every flick. It was a bit scary that Acher partially shared it's enthusiasm. The spells did indeed feel wonderful, they satiated something deep within his magical core, something brash and a little cruel.

It also made Acher angry with how little the wand seemed to adapt to his needs. The core was fairy wing wasn't it? That's what fairy wing does, it adapts to the wielders wishes. Meanwhile his was just a bratty, fussy wand core that wanted to go around breaking things.

Turning around the blonde gazed at Hogwarts, the castles high towers bathed in long, grey clouds that drizzled rain onto its old, stoney visage. The castle looked kind of dreary and mysetrous in weather like that. Acher liked it that way.

He huffed, spinning his wand between his fingers which made the object giggle shirlly.

"Time for a break." Acher nodded, pocketing his wand he walked over to the boulder, grabbing his bag from underneath it. He heaved himself on top of the stone, angling his body to get a good view of the castle before pulling out his lunch. It was a very simple sandwich, white bread, tomato, red onion, cabbage, melted cheese and bacon, all kept warm with a simple spell that one of the elves taught him a few days ago.

He bit into his meal, legs swinging as he chewed.

It really was a nice day, not too cold not too warm, grey and peaceful. The addition of rain, even such a faint one, made most students stay indoors which caused the valley to be particularly silent.

Acher breathed in the moist, mountain air.

Ah, how he wished he could go further than Hogwarts, deep into the woods until he arrived at the faraway mountain ranges that dotted the distance, like beacons of a different life he could experience if he just had enough courage. Acher always got sentimental when looking at landscapes that stretched as far as the one around the school did. He even spent alot of his break time just staring into the distance, wondering how the view would look like from atop those ice caps. Maybe he yearned for something unattainable maybe once he actually reached the top it would be nothing special. But that yearning was real, it simmered and ached within him like his very soul was bound to another place and everytime he moved further away from it his soul was pulled taunt against it like a frail string.

Acher huffed and dropped his gaze from those chilling mountains, opting instead for looking at Hogwarts and enjoying his sandwich.

Suddenly, a small raven dropped down from the sky and with a couple quick flaps of his large, black wings settled next to Acher on the rock. The blonde recognized him, if faintly, as a bird that hung around Ravenclaw tower, on occasion fed by its inhabitants.

"Hatchling." The raven bristled his feather, shaking water out of the inky expanse of his coat.

Acher nodded in a short greeting.

"Heard you've been looking for sparring partners." Tilting his head the bird looked up at Acher with one of his beady eyes.

This peaked the wizards curiosity. "Oh? And what if I am?"

A cackle left the raven, short and gutteral. "You might want to check this out."

[...]

Severus was positively fucked. He knew that getting sorted into Slytherin was both a blessing and a curse but the curse part of that equation seemed to consistently outweight the blessing part.

He was just on a walk, trotting about and trying to find some good potion ingredients he could use later for some self study. It was a rainy day, though curiously not a cold one, perfect for finding some Galais, a small, stubby plants that grew for a short while upon exposure to high humidity and medium temperatures. He actually managed to find a small patch growing at the west side of Hogwarts, just against the tall, outer wall.

While he was shoving his new find into his pockets (also cursing himself for not bringing a paper bag) three figures suddenly approached him, all three Slytherin.

Avery was the one Snape knew the most, his roommate was looking as posh as ever.

Next was someone Severus never met, he looked like an upper year, maybe third or fourth, probably the son of some minor Lord.

The last one he recognized from the common room and her appearance made Snapes blood freeze in his veins. Bellatrix Black was a girl that needed absolutely no introduction, she was the loudest out of all Slytherins, not at all concerned with opinions of others as she kept the entire house in a chokehold. Not only was her status high due to her pure blood she also was very magically gifted. All of this paired with her cruel nature made Bellatrix someone not to be messed with.

Why was she heading Severus's way was a mystery the boy did not want to solve.

He picked himself up as quickly as possible but failed to even turn around before the Black sister called out to him in that, shrill, terryfing voice making him stop in his tracks.

"And who do we have here?" The tall teenager laughed, her smile so wide it looked like her face could at any second split apart like a vipers maw. She was already twirling her wand, the short stubby thing angled like a talon.

Avery and the other boy giggled behind her.

Bellatrixes face twisted threateningly upon receiving no answer. "Well?" She spat "Introduce yourself to us!"

Snape shuffled in place, his hands wringing together. "Severus...Snape..." He mumbled.

"I can't hear you!" The Black sister taunted.

"Severus Snape." The wizard forced out through gritted teeth.

Upon hearing his response all three of them began to laugh. Bellatrix stepped closer to him, frozen in fear he could do nothing but watch as she pushed the tip of her talon wand against his chest. "Do you know what I find funny about that, little Severus?"

He kept his gaze on his shoes, not daring to look into those two, spiteful, black eyes.

"I find it funny that someone with the surname 'Snape' would get into Slytherin." She cackled. "I mean, that sounds like a mudblood surname to me! Would you enlighten me, Little Severus, why that is?"

From the moment he got sorted into the house Snape knew he would be singled out because of his blood status. He also knew it was only a matter of time until his housemates started acting upon it. Snape got lucky in his first days at Hogwarts as he got to hang out with Lily and didn't have to interact with any Slytherins, at least not much. But information travels fast, and gossip even faster. Snape caught Avery's amused gaze, of course it would be one of his roommates.

"Because my father is a muggle." Snape hissed.

Bellatrix threw her head back again, cackling like a crow, her wand jabbing into his chest uncomfortably. "Tainted blood! Tainted blood! As I suspected! And to take the surname of a muggle! My, my, your mother truly must have been a whore!"

Snape bit the inside of his cheek. He was not about to defend him mothers honor, even if she was being disrespected right in front of him. Firstly, he knew he would lose against a witch like Bellatrix and secondly his relationship with his mother was strained at best and actively abusive at worst. She refused to acknowledge his father's wrongs and was most of the time cold and distant, she taught him nothing of magic and even less of taking care of his basic needs. He didn't need to defend her, she dug that grave herself.

He watched Bellatrix's wand push into his robes as she droned on and on about his blood status and how sad it was to see Slytherin be tainted with soiled blood.

Snape knew when the hexes finally left her wand they would sting and ache horribly.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

"Hey, what's up guys." A new voice made the entire group freeze.

Snape turned his head to gaze at the person now standing behind him.

His...roommate?

The allusive blonde was indeed standing there, sporting a casual outfit of light purple and brown muggle clothes slightly damp from the rain, a leather bag slung over his shoulder. One hand in the pocket of his hoodie, the other holding what seemed to be the end piece of a sandwich.

What on earth is this idiot doing here!??

Severus did not know the other boy enough to have a concrete opinion on him. The wizard disappeared for long stretches of time, he barely showed up to their room and Snape has actually never even seen him in the great hall besides during the first feast. The only time he could even catch a glance of him was during lessons to which his roommate was notoriously late to.

To say the blonde was a weirdo would be an understatement, he was an actual outcast, even Severus interacted more with his housemates.

And there he was, just casually standing there, still chewing on that damn sandwich! It was as if Bellatrix Black herself pointing her wand in his general direction had absolutely no effect on him.

"Oh ho." Black smirked, taking her wand away from Snapes chest and straightening her back. Her eyes shone with interest, assessing the blonde like a snake eyeing it's next meal. "And who might you be?"

"Tallhill." The Slytherin answered through a mouthful of bread. Snape watched with absolute horror and amusement as he pushed the rest of his meal into his mouth, right in front of the purebloods before casually rubbing the crumbs away from his face and hands.

Bellatrixs' eyelid twitched. "Tallhill?" She scoffed. "Tallhill is not a pureblood name is it?"

The blonde shrugged, still chewing.

A mocking smile spread across the girls face "You don't even know? Ha! Then some real blood mixing must have happened in your family to produce a mutt like you!" The laugh that followed was positively chilling. What was worse was that the usually strictly mocking giggle was now laced with bubbling anger.

His roommate took absolutely no offense from her words, even though they were arguably worse then what Snape got. He simply put both his hands in his pockets and leaned back with his usual blank expression.

This seemed to absolutely infuriate Bellatrix as the witch scowled and turned her wand to his allusive roommate.

Before she could even utter a curse a hand gripped Severus's robes and pushed him back. Tallhill got in front of him, his wand already flying out of his pocket and pointed back at Bellatrix.

"Expelliarmus." His spell was as steady yet flimsy as everything about him. The word uttered with such confidence and yet absolute indifference, mellow and shallow like a puddle, hard as stone. Tallhill's wand flickered red, his spell disrupting Blacks own incantation as it ran up her body and towards her talon wand. The red flicker yanked the stick out of her palm and soared through the air, the blonde reached his hand out to catch it-

And missed...

The wand fell off to the side, barely missing his hand.

That however didn't disrupt his roommates concentration as Avery and his friend fired off their own spells. With an elegant flicker of his ivory wand the blonde created a sizable, silver shield that easily deflected the hexes thrown at both him and Severus.
Dropping the ward he immediately went into offense, shooting a dark red spell straight at Avery. The hex hissed upon contact with the boy, penetrating his robes like poison and flame. Avery yowled and dropped to his knees.

The other upper classman didn't put up much of a fight either, a couple quick stinging hexes to the face and shoulder and he was laying on the ground alongside Avery.

In the trance that he found himself in, completely enthralled by his roommates fighting skills, Severus's heart almost jumped out of his throat once he realized that Bellatrix was no longer in front of them. His head whipped to the side only to see the girl picking her wand up from the ground, her face contorted in rage.

"Watch out!" Severus yelled, yanking Tallhill's sleeve.

The blonde immediately pulled his wand towards her but this time he was too slow. Black hissed out a stinging hex and with one cutting movement of her arm sent the spell flying towards Tallhill where it promptly sunk into his side, just above his right hip, pushing him back with its force.

His roommate yelped, hand flying to clutch at the skin beneath his hoodie. Thankfully there was no blood but from the way the blonde contorted onto himself Snape could tell that was no ordinary hex.

"Now I'll get you!" Bellatrix yelled, a sadistic smile spreading across her face. She raised her wand again like a blade.

Snape reached towards his pocket, prepared to fight back despite how his legs felt like jello and mind screamed at him to turn back and run.

But Bellatrix never threw her hex.

Instead, a giant raven swooped down from the sky with a throaty cry, scratching it's talons across the girls face and flapping it's wings wildly. Bellatrix screamed like a banshee, shooting a hex towards the bird but with her lack of vision the spell was harmlessly ejected into the air.

Snape stood there gobsmacked as the animal threw itself at the Black sister, pecking her ears and face, pulling at her hair. At one point Bellatrix opted to run away instead but the bird just continued to chase her. Avery and the other lackey followed soon, seeing as their strongest ally was gone they ran after the girl, not looking behind them once.

When the sound of Bellatrix's screeching ceased the valley was once again drowned in silence, only the faint sound of water hitting wet stone remained.

Snape blinked once, twice and then looked around.

Tallhill was rummaging through his bag. He watched as the blonde pulled out a small, red book and a stubby pencil tucked within its pages. There was some loose paper inside that book which he began to write on. He crossed something out with a satisfied huff before underlining something else.

Putting everything away he zipped up the bag, turned around and started leaving.

Severus's brain short circuited. "Uhm-!" He called out.

This made Tallhill pause and glance back.
Tallhill...kind of looked like a bird that way, his head tilted, the downwards arch of his nose like the beak of a crow, assessing something with one, curious eye. His face held no expression of malice, but also neither of friendship.

Severus could feel every word he wanted to say wilt in his mouth once that onyx optic was squarely on him.

The blonde turned to him fully, not uttering a word, face just as stoic as before. He watched Snape as the dark haired boy fumbled.

"That was a lot that you just did there..." Snape stated carefully. "You know, Bellatrix is quite the influential figure, she's gonna be really mad at you from now on...to say the least. Actually, she'll probably be absolutely furious."

Tallhill stood still for a second, simply gazing at Snape as if reading something within the boys expression. "She's graduating soon though, isn't she?" He finally stated, languidly tucking away strands of his damp golden hair that begun sticking to his face.

Severus huffed. "She is but she'll probably send other people on you after she's gone. Like...other upperclassmen."

He expected some kind of dumb rebuttal, or perhaps a hint of fear within that golden expression. What he got instead was a smile. An honest to God, small grin that stretched ever so slightly across the boys full lips. Snape resisted the urge to flinch back.

Tallhill put his hands back into his pockets "Really?"

"Really." Snape nodded, unsure of what else to say.

That smile stretched just a tad wider. It was so unsettling to see that normally static expression twist, it was as if the blondes muscles were not meant move that way.

The blonde turned around and walked away.

Snape watched him leave. Watched the way Tallhill's long golden curls shifted across the back of his damp purple hoodie. Even in the grey weather they seemed to be glowing ever so slightly.

A lone dark raven flew down from the sky and perched itself on top of the boys shoulder as he walked. Tallhill didn't even flinch as the bird shook off the water from it's feathers, stretching its long black wings as if it were a creature of shadow itself.

Left standing there Snape's mind buzzed and stirred restlessly. Wiping his damp palms across his pants the subtle dent in his pockets reminded the boy what he was there even for. Right. Galais. He huffed, scratching the back of his head he looked back towards the wall. The small, light green plant was still there.

Snape looked back up only to find Tallhill no longer there.

Scoffing, the boy got back to his knees and started harvesting the plant once more.

"What a weirdo."

[...]

Acher indulged himself in thought as he walked down the Hogwarts halls. He felt strange after seeing Snape like that, just a small, damp little boy, bullied by other Slytherins for being a halfblood.

It was hard to think of the boy as an imposing potions proffesor when he was so pale, scrawny and barely reached your chin in height. The malnourishment was also clear as day, Snape was practically skin and bones. That hair didn't help either, the way the top stuck to his scalp made him look like he was wearing a backwards cap all day.

Acher was actually kind of glad he helped Snape get out of trouble, at least the first time. Who knows what those three would have done if not for him being there. Maybe the absence of that little incident would help the boy grow up to have a little bit less of a stick up his ass.

What he was even more glad about was getting some sparring partners!

Bellatrix Black no less. Yeesh, what an imposing girl. That spark of madness in her eyes was really something to witness. The way she wielded her wand with such precise movement, the way her spell zipped across the air and bit Acher's side like a ravenous creature even though she was clearly holding back...

It made him... excited.

Acher skipped a couple steps down the stairs to the castles lower levels, happiness drumming away in his veins. Just thinking about Bellatrix's expression made him giddy.

So his Expelliarmus worked he just needed to practice his aim a bit more. Though he would admit he was growing tired of praising these basic level offense spells.

It was time for a change.

His elemental research needed to begin!

"Slowly of course..." Acher nodded to himself, trying to settle his own excitement. "Slowly and steadily." He made his way to the lowest level just above the dungeons and then turned to the furthest hallway to the east. As far as he knew no classes were held in that particular hallway, neither did they house any of the teachers. There were no windows and the air was stale, wide, thin spiderwebs stretched across the stone ceilings.

He would definitely find a classroom that was not in use in a place like this.

After some snooping around, going through a couple broom closets and storage spaces he finally found what looked to be a deserted runes classroom. There was a thin layer of dust over all the tables and chairs, the teachers desk was propped up at the other end of the classroom on a circular wooden elevation built into the ground. Long strips of parchment and dried out flowers and leaves hung from the ceiling, some of them stuck together with more spiderwebs. Besides that there was also a couple small bookcases hung on walls, gathering dust just as everything else.

Perfect.

As Acher was setting down his book bag and peeling off his soaked purple hoodie he realized that the air smelled faintly of smoke.

"Huh." The blonde murmured, putting away his sweater and straightening out his undershirt. Well, if the classroom naturally smells like smoke then there wouldn't be much of a problem if he created even more smoke by burning things.

Acher rubbed his hands together, trying to bring back some of the warmth to his chilled skin. He looked down at his palms and then guided his magic up to them, slowly in multiple thin trickles the metalic tendrils escaped the confines of his body and stopped a couple centimeters above his hands.

"How do I want to go about this..." Acher whispered, wriggling his magic back and fourth. Probably by raising temperature first, so increasing power. "Maybe...gathering more magic in one place?" He proceeded to balloon up one of the tendrils, crowding as much energy into a very small part just at the very tip, he felt the temperature of the tendril rise slowly but then the thread suddenly popped with a defending sound more akin to a fire cracker than a flame. Tallhill frowned. He proceeded to do the same thing a couple times just slower or faster, each one resulting in a small explosion that did not even resemble fire.

"Come on...just a flame..." Acher hissed only to get another explosion once the thread ballooned too much in size.

He frowned trying to recall everything else he knew about fire. His brain circled back to the flame on the candle and the way he ignited it with a match. "A match." Acher repeated, remembering the way he stricked the object on the side of the match box, the fire hissing and flashing before settling back into a singular flame. Of course to make a match ignite there needs to be a chemical reaction but if magic could do so mamy wonderus things who says it can't create fire out of nothing?

It's always worth a try.

Acher begun by rubbing two tendrils together, the temperature of the connection did rise indeed but it did not seem to be enough as all it created was a weak light. He then increased the amount of power, slightly thickening the threads. The blonde was a bit too hasty in his approach though and ended up just rapturing them both causing another small explosion. The good news was that the explosion did produce tiny flames though.

Acher bit his lip, excitement igniting his heart. One step closer.

After a couple failed attempts Tallhill decided on increasing the amount of threads for a singular flame, he clumped them into groups of three and then intertwined them together into a short braid. Making sure to keep them separate but crowded, rubbing up against each other. Then he increased the power, not by a lot though, instead he distributed it semi evenly through the tendrils, feeling the way they strained, creating a faint red light like hot coals. Then he began shifting them ever so slightly back and fourth back and fourth against one another...

There was a spark, then a crackle. The red light shrunk into white and then expanded with a greedy hiss, crawling upwards into a tall, orange flame.

Acher watched the fire sway to the sides leisurely, a halo of light encompassing it's beautiful radiant frame. The comforting heat it emitted brushed along his damp face, promising everything and so much more.

He smiled, wide and proud for the second time that day, the smooth orange light reflecting along the circular blackness of his dark, dark eyes.

Chapter Text

Acher stared mutely at the droopy face of the large boarhound. Studying the way its black eyes shone with the kind of boundless excitement that characterized almost all dogs.

Acher motioned down with his finger. "Sit."

The dog answered by throwing himself at Acher, knocking the blonde down onto the grassy field with its enormous paws.

"Ugh-" wincing, the boy was assaulted by the animals wide, wet tounge as it licked away at his cheeks, his tail high and wagging in the air. "Alright- alright you enormous beast-" the dog pushed his large wet nose under his collar, sniffing eagerly.

"Fang! What are ye doing over 'ere!" Hagrids deep voice called out causing the dog to detach himself from Acher and look back towards his rapidly approaching owner. "How many times did i tell ye not to bother others!" Scolded, the dog got off the blonde and took a couple guilty steps back with a whine, allowing Acher to actually see Hagrid walk up.

"Ah! Its ye! Broodin' around as always huh?" Rubeus bellowed, laughing at the blondes disheveled appearance before actually helping him get up.

"I'm not brooding around." Acher denied, running his fingers through his mound of locks a couple times.

"Sure ye aren't." The half-giant chuckled. "What are ye doing 'ere then?"

The blonde readjusted the strap of his bag with a couple firm tugs. "Well, I was trying to find a good place to do my homework."

Hagrid quirked one of his bushy eyebrows. "Doing homework outside? In weather like this?"

It was indeed quite cold on account of it being late October. There was no rain but a chilly wind has been carrying promises of a white winter through the valley, the sky ever so overcast with thick clouds. With it the leaves began falling as well, leaving wide trails of orange and red all over the dark, dampened grass.

Tallhill frowned, shuffling his feet on the stone ground. "The library is full and I don't want to stay in my dorm room."

The groundskeeper seemed to understand what the boy was implying so instead of questioning him further he straightened and with a jovial smile asked: "Well, Fang and I were just about to return to me hut. Would ye like to come with us? I 'ave some good tea and enough space for any work ye need to do."

Acher's black eyes widened. He glanced down at the boarhound who was sitting there, staring at him and Hagrid eagerly. "Hm. Alright I guess."

Acher didn't know Hagrid very well but the half giant seemed to be naturally friendly and trusting. He also looked to not have much company in his day to day life as he was not yet a member of faculty and instead just a groundskeeper. There was no reason to turn down such an offer, especially just to get away from the incessant crowds permeating Hogwarts after the classes had ended. Tallhill watched the giants back as they walked towards the hut, Hagrid telling him about his most recent pumpkin patch with the amount of enthusiasm to make one thing the vegetables were made of gold.

And to be honest they were very good pumpkins.

Acher stared at the gigantic vegetables as they finally arrived at Hagrids' small hut. They were a vibrant orange, their large, bulbous forms dotting the raised dirt with as much pride as inanimate objects could exude.

"Impressive ey?" Hagrid laughed while unlocking his front door.

"More than just impressive." Tallhill murmured, watching as a large, brown snail slithered languidly up one of the pumpkins. "Fascinating."

The two of them, plus Fang, shuffled inside. It was by all means a cozy house, all browns, greens and reds, thick wood and stone lined with furs. The floor creaked as the giant made his way across the room, setting up the large, metal tea kettle that despite it's size still looked small between his fingers. He put it over the fire burning in the small fireplace, hooking it onto a metal rod.

Fang went right for his bed, a mish mash of old blankets and pillows pulled onto the floor at the far end of the room. The dog grumbled a bit, pushing around the materials before doing a couple spins over his little nest and finally laying on top with a huff of a very exhausted old man.

Acher swept the entire place again with his gaze before settling at the kitchen table, pulling a couple pieces of parchment out of his bag, his quill and an ink pot.

"So, what is it?" Hagrid asked, not turning from his work as he arranged the tea bags in thick rimmed, metal cups.

"What is what?" Acher asked.

"The work yer doin'."

"Oh." Acher scratched at his head. "Well, it's supposed to be an essay on the effects of flumpter oil."

Rubeus did look back at him then. "So potions?"

"Yep." The blonde nodded, unscrewing his ink pot.

To his surprise the half-giant groaned. "Ugh, not a fan of that potions stuff either. I was always too clumsy, me fingers too big to grasp all those tiny ingredients." He pulled out a metal tin from one of the overhead cupboards. "I burnt a lot of cauldrons."

"I just don't think I like Profesor Slughorn very much." The blonde grumbled, pulling out his potions textbook.

Hagrid placed the metal tin on the counter and opened it carefully. Inside was a whole batch of cookies, shaped in circles, triangles and stars, all sprinkled with large grains of glimmering sugar. "Slughorn ey? Well, I suppose I know why ye don't like 'im."

"Ooh." Acher murmured, reaching for the cookies with eager fingers. He took one and placed it right into his mouth before going straight for another one.

"Haha! Don't choke there lad!" Hagrid laughed, watching as the blonde stuffed his face full.

"Why don't you like Proffesor Slughorn Mr Hagrid?" The wizard asked as soon as his mouth was empty enough to speak.

The half-giant frowned, his eyes traveling to the fire underneath the tea kettle. "Not the nicest man, not arrogant, no not really. An opportunist though, that's what I'd call 'im." The light of the fire place bounced off the giants dark eyes and thick beard in vibrant, orange streaks. "He was always like that, even when I was a student. Always favouring the talented and attractive. If ye were none of those things he would not look twice yer way."

Acher swallowed before nibbling at the second cookie with his front teeth, scraping off the thick sugar to chew at it first. "So nothing's changed."

Hagrid exhaled. "Should 'ave expected that."

The lull in their conversation allowed Hagrid to get the kettle off the fire and pour the hot water into the cups. As soon as he placed them onto the table along with the sugar Acher added three spoons to his tea and stirred it thoroughly. The cups were big, clearly custom made though the silverware wasn't making the blonde shift his fingers to the very tip of the spoon awkwardly as to not burn himself.

Acher took a big sip of the tea, the liquid burning the roof of his mouth before soothing it with the herbal aroma.

"No milk?" Hagrid asked.

Tallhill just shook his head. It wasn't very popular outside of the UK to be drinking tea with milk so back when he was Rene he never even thought that was an option. Even now he could not get used to the taste.

Rubeus shrugged, pouring a hefty amount of cream into his cup, practically drowning out the rich tea color.

Acher actually started to write his essay once the tea was served. He wrote everything by the book, occasionally just copying sentences and then changing them up ever so slightly by simply rearranging the words. Normally he would put a bit more effort into whatever he was writing but he knew Slughorn would not care very much about whatever additional information he would present. It was better to stick to the basics, besides, a maximum of 200 words is not exactly a wide playing field.

"I 'aven't seen ye hanging around others very much lad." Hagrid suddenly piped in once the blonde was getting close to the conclusion.

Acher looked up at him briefly before getting back to his work. "Well, I don't." He crossed out a long sentence, instead replacing it with a much more simple one.

"Why is that? It's good to 'ave friends ye know?"

"Did you have many friends when you were in Hogwarts Mr Hagrid?" The wizard asked instead.

"Well of course I did!" The bushy haired man boasted, leaning back in his chair that creaked pitifully under his weight. "We would get into many fights together against those blimey snakes- I mean..." Hagrid coughed loudly making the blonde look up from his homework with a quirked brow. Rubeus's face turned pink under his scrutiny.

Acher sighed, finishing the last sentence of his homework. "I suppose I get what you mean. A group of older Slytherins have been tailing me for the last few weeks."

"Blimey! Are ye serious?" The half-giant exclaimed, looking at the boy with concern.

"Yeah. They're probably looking for a chance to fight me." The boy shrugged, stuffing his face with another cookie.

"Why would they fight ye!?"

"I guess because I fought their 'leader' or something like that." Acher waved his hands vaguely. "Not that that leader even wants to fight me again, apparently she has better things to do." Scowling the wizard put his quill away angrily.

Hagrid simply stared at him with pure amusement in his eyes before asking: "Do ye...want to fight that 'leader'?"

The golden haired boy gazed at him from above the rim of his metal cup. "Why wouldn't I? She's a worthy opponent. Absolutely terrific at magic. How could anyone pass up such an opportunity?"

The strong line of Hagrids' brow draws together as the man assesses him quietly "Ye're a strange lad fer sure, blimey, if I didn't know any better I would 'ave assumed yer a Gryffindor with how reckless ye are."

"You're not gonna stop me?" Acher asked, tilting his head in question, making the mound of golden lock atop his head shift against the light of the fire place.

The half-giant laughed again, the sound deep and rumbling. "I just told ye lad! I was not much better when I was yer age!" To Acher's surprise the man reached out and pat his head with his wide hand as if the wizard was but a rowdy puppy. "Just don't go too hard, ye don't want to get caught up in anything would ye?"

It was sort of jarring to hear a character who was regarded as a complete pacifist talking about beating the crap out of people in his younger days. Then again it made sense. Hagrid was no longer just a character, but a person, a living breathing being who changes and evolves over time. Acher scratched at his nose, gazing at the man as he finally took a sip of his overly milky tea, the froth leaving a faint stripe of white at the edges of his mustache.

"What can you tell me about these woods Mr Hagrid?" The blonde asked, indulging himself in yet another cookie.

Rubeus's gaze turned hard before he turned it away to look outside the tiny window. Acher gazed there as well, as it allowed a glimpse of the dark forest, the trees now much darker after the sun had set.

"Definitely not a good place fer young lads like ye, even if yer tough." He gruffed "Many things live in these woods, things that don't like being bothered."

"Like what?" The young wizard pressed, tilting his head again, this time to the other side.

"Well many things!" Hagrid insisted, taking another big gulp of his tea. "Like big spiders, unicorns, giant bugs, centaurs and many, many others!"

Acher gazed at the man in awe "Fascinating."

The groundskeeper narrowed his eyes at his words. "Don't even think 'bout it snake lad, like I said it's very dangerous."

"Snake lad?" Tallhill questioned, baffled.

Nodding the half giant took another sip of his tea. "Of course, yer a snake and a lad. So a snake lad."

Acher honestly kind of wanted to giggle at that nickname. Nobody really acknowledged him as a Slytherin and he was fine with that since he knew the hat only placed him in that house because it wanted him to fulfill a certain "purpose". What kind of purpose he had no idea. Still, there was something really nice about getting a nickname. "Snake lad." Acher repeated, gazing at the dark liquid sitting still in his cup, reflecting the glow of the fireplace as it reverberated off of the rim of the metal.

They talked about the forest some more despite Hagrids' initial apprehensiveness. It was clear just how passionate the half-giant was about magical creatures, he recited facts about each and every one as if he personally interviewed them about their habits. He was especially talkative about the spiders, gigantic beasts living deep within the forest where the light of day barely reached even on the sunniest of days. Honestly, how fascinating is that.

Acher will definitely check it out.

At some point Fang got up and began pleading with his eyes underneath the table, pushing his droopy face onto Tallhill's lap and gazing at him like a wounded puppy.

"I'm afraid you can't eat sugar." Acher shook his head, ilisiting a low grumble from the dog that the boy quelled with a few nice, long pets across the space between his eyes.

Fang did eventually get his way as Hagrid tossed him a slice of pre cooked meat that the large beast instantly scarfed down. Seriously, he looked like he didn't even chew it.

They talked some more before it was time for Acher to depart. It was already dark outside and the curfew was approaching rapidly so Hagrid ushered him out the door with a bag of leftover cookies in hand. Once they were out both of them took a second to take in the nightly scenery. The line of the trees had become pitch black, melting into the dark plane of the sky like ink across a dyed page. The stars shimmered brightly, their light concerned into each individual point like glitter. Looking menacingly above them, stood the black visage of Hogwarts, illuminated by a hundred golden windows that cast long and stretched reflections on the surface of the black lake. The air was crisp and cold, wind chillier than usual.

Acher swept his eyes across the silvered grass, through the dark spiderwebs of the forest and up to the stars again. Gazing at them intently as one should when faced with such a magnificent sight.

"The stars are so much clearer here than in the city." The boy murmured.

Hagrid just laughed, patting him on the shoulder with a large hand that left the Slytherin stumbling forward. As he bid the large man goodbye Acher scratching Fang behind the ear a couple more times before finally departing.

The walk back to the castle was...one of those moments in your life that despite it's insignificance would stay in your mind for years to come. It was quiet and cold, the world dark yet illuminated by the stars and the distant lights, echoing those glimmers like a dark crystal. Only the sound of Acher's shoes hitting the grass broke that careful stillness that the world seemed to be entrenched with. Everything sparked muted silvers and blues.

As he crept up the hill Acher reached his hand out and tentatively pulled his magic through the tips of his fingers, tangling the threads into a solid braid. The air around it crackled and hissed not a second after before a tall flame was brought to life from the sparks, illuminating the the space around him with a strong, orange light.

Acher smiled, his steps more confident now that he was seeing the path before him more clearly.

How fascinating it was, to call upon fire whenever and wherever one desires. The smile on Acher's face pulled wider.

Magic exists and it's beautiful.

[...]

The next day, right after his DADA class had finished the blonde practically sprinted back to the unused classroom. He had swept the place a little bit at the beginning, just to be sure he would not accidentally put aflame everything within it, using a simple cleaning charm they learned in Charms the previous week. A flick of his wand and poof, the dust that layered the ground was gone. Acher put aside his bag, shrugged off his robe and stretched from side to side.

He had work to do. A breakthrough if you will.

He managed to create fire but now it was time to starts properly controlling it. You know, like all the mages in games do, throwing around fireballs, summoning ancient beings made out of fire, breathing fire. All that good stuff.

The blonde sat down, eagerly pulling his magic from his palm and immediately sparking a tall flame. It came pretty easily to him now, after all it was nothing too complicated. Acher considered the flame carefully, it was springing upwards just as normal fire would. He brought a finger close to it, feeling the sting of heat upon his skin once he got too close. The blonde frowned. He would not be able to do much with it if he could not even touch it. There's got to be a way to do that without burning his fingerprints off... He needed something to protect him.

The wizard brought his other hand up and pulled magic through it as well, the cool buzz of the power spreading out across his palm like a glove. Once the protective layer was on Acher brought it close to the flame again and tried touching. The blonde knew the fire can use his magic as a fuel but something told him it was not as easy as that. He focused instead on maintaining the belief that his new magical glove was inflammable, that it could not be penetrated or used as fuel like the magic in his other hand was.

The fire hissed quietly once coming to contact with his other hand. Still feeling the heat Acher was convinced for a second that he was about to be burned. Yet after a second louder hiss the flame stilled and his skin was left perfectly intact even while placed directly into the fire.

Acher exhaled, face beaded with sweat and palms a little shaky. Slowly he extracted his fingers from underneath the bright flame as even with the protective layer the heat had begun to feel uncomfortable.

Once safe the giddiness begun to set in, the blonde smiled, wide and a little deranged as he stared at the flame. "I did it." He hissed quietly to the empty classroom as if conversing with some ghost. The wizard could not properly articulate how happy this made him, it felt as if his insides were about to burst. Suddenly a slew of wild possibilities exploded in his mind like a firework.

"The things that I can do with you." Acher whispered to the bright flame that rippled slightly with his every breath. "I am going to turn you into an inferno, I promise you." The light might have been deceiving him yet for a split second it looked as if the fire turned a tad bit more red, a bit more daunting. A bit more aggressive.

It only made him more excited.

Coating both his palms with magic Acher took the flame in his hands and pushed his thumbs into its core, pulling the fire apart to form a donut like shape that swirled around his fingers majestically. The heat made a new layer of sweat pool across his face. It was terrifying to play with an element like that. Acher felt that if he let go the entire thing would explode in his face, the grip he had on the protective layer around his skin was firm yet the coating felt flimsy. One wrong move and his little experiment would literally go up in flames-

"You could at least wait a little Stanley-" a sudden voice outside the classroom door made Acher's heart nearly jump out of his throat causing the grip he had on the fire waver.

There was a click as the door opened and a group of three upperclassmen entered the room, immidiately stalling once they spotted Acher.

Distracted, Acher accidentally released the iron hold he had on his magic, the fire circle shuddered, expanded and then proceed to explode like a small firework. All four of them yelped at the loud sound, followed by a grey-blue gust of sheer smoke that waft straight onto Acher's face.

Scared and confused the three upperclassmen started turning around as if wanting to run out of the room.

Acher wouldn't let them.

The blonde stood up hastily, reaching out his hand he pulled his magic out like an arrow, further than he ever managed to do before. It's metalic visage wrapped around the cool doorknob to the classroom before the wizard pulled it towards him causing the door to slam shut right before their faces with a loud bang.

Silence fell across the room.

Now that he was properly standing Acher could actually analize the trio. Three young men, two Gryffindors and one Ravenclaw, seemingly all in the same year, maybe two or three years older than Acher. The blondes eyes fell down to inspect what one of the lions was holding in his hand only to see him gripping and entire pack of cigarettes, one of them already pulled out and clenched between his fingers.

Ah. So that's what this is about.

Acher relaxed, letting his hand fall to his side before cocking his head to the side in expectation.

"Man," one of the guys groaned in a distinctly American accent. "Now we are in deep shit...and it hasn't even been half a year." He was tall and on the skinnier side, his body pulled up and posture slouched under the weight of newfound teenage hood. His pale face was relatively attractive with a mop of black hair at the top that dripped lazily over his light green eyes and down the back of his neck.

"Well." The singular Ravenclaw suddenly said, squaring his shoulders he grabbed the pack of cigarettes out of the hands of the other Gryffindor. "We might as well come clean."

"What?!" Both of the lions yelled at the same time, turning to the Ravenclaw in disbelief.

"Nah you crazy man, I know you got the whole prefect thing going on but this is too much!" The raven haired lion droned but the Ravenclaw did not listen.

"We've already been seen." The blue clad boy shook his head, gazing at Acher with a face that was definitely too serious for the situation they were in. He was slightly taller than the Gryffindor, with dark brown skin and curly black hair cut close to the scalp. His face was round and friendly, with down turned eyes and ears that stuck out ever so slightly. "Hello. I just wanted to say that yes, we were going to smoke and yes you have all the rights to alert the nearest teacher about this. We will take accountability."

Both of the Gryffindors groaned, the smaller of the two, a boy with straight blonde hair and a face full of freckles, straight up looked like he wanted to punch the Ravenclaw.

Acher cut their little squabble short. "Let's make a deal." He said, taking the attention of the entire room. "I won't say anything to the teachers and you'll be free to smoke here as much as you like. You guys meanwhile will keep quiet about whatever I am doing in this classroom. Deal?"

All three of them narrowed their eyes, it was honestly so funny to see them do it at the same time. They were like a flock of penguins, staring dead eyed in one direction.

"And what would that be?" The Ravenclaw inquired. "If you are practicing dark magic-"

"That would be totally okay!" The smaller Gryffindor cut the other off, slapping his hand over the others mouth. "We will just be over here, smoking, and keeping our mouths shut." He dragged the dark skinned boy to the nearest desk even as the other mumbled angrily underneath his palm.

While the freckled blonde wrestled the uptight boy down onto the chair the other lion simply sighed and followed them, sitting down onto the desk.

"Olia! What did it tell you about sitting on the desks!?" The Ravenclaw fussed, finally sitting down.

The dark haired boy, Olia, simply plucked a cigarette out of the others clenched hand and lit it up with the tip of his dark wand. "Relax Kingsley, there's nobody around here anyway. Is not like McGonagall is gonna suddenly barge in here and start docking off points."

"That would be Professor McGonagall to you-" Kingsley huffed.

Acher watched the three of them squabble, exhaling a long overdue breath of pent up energy. He looked down at his own palms, frowning. Was it really okay to just allow these random upperclassmen to see everything he was working on? Yes, they had the deal but it's not like they made a vow or anything, he could still be ratted out to the teachers.

He looked at them again, only to see all three already nursing lit up fags in their hands, murmuring something to one another.

Oh whatever. It's not like he was Einstein discovering anything over here.

He got back on the ground, getting comfortable and pulling magic effortlessly through his palms. A little bit of twisting and rubbing and a sizable flame was already sizzling away over his hand, it's warmth like the caress of a lover over his face.

Coating his hands the boy started stretching the fire, just as he did before, pulling it into different shapes like dough. A ball, a square, a pyramid, an hourglass. The sharp edges of some of these shapes were hard to master as the fire naturally yearned to pull itself outside of the bounds of his influence, nipping angrily at his fingers as he tried to push it back together. Yet as time went on and he arrived at a trapezoid it was getting increasingly more manageable to shape the flames. By that point his fingertips were rubbed red and stinging, his vision a little spotted from staring at the flames. Yet the satisfaction churning away in his gut at every successful mold more than made up for it.

Acher bit his lip as he carefully reshaped the ball of fire into a small, round apple, complete with a thick stem and small leaf. The leaf was the tricky part, it needed to be thin, yet not too thin as to be snuffed out. The blonde huffed, shaping and reshaping the flames as they flickered against his sweaty hands.

Gods he was so sweaty. Acher wiped his forehead only to end up with more sweat on his palms.

"Hey kid, cool stuff you doin' over there." The familiar voice of the dark haired Gryffindor interrupted Tallhill's musings.

Acher lift his gaze, staring blankly at the boy now standing over him. Curiosity was swirling in his large, green eyes, a subtle smirk pulled over his lips.

"Olia, come on, don't bother him." The other lion chimed in from the back, though he also looked at Acher curiously. His baby blue eyes flickering between his face and the fire between his palms.

Olia slouched to the side, pulling another cigarette out of his pocket and holding it out lazily. "Since you got so much fire, mind lighting it up for me?"

Tallhill stared mutely at the object before looking up at the teenagers face. It gave nothing away, perhaps it was slightly mocking but Acher couldn't really tell. He looked back at the cigarette.

Oh why not.

Acher brought his fire closer but before the little ball of flames could make contact with the cigarette Tallhill got another idea, a certainly better one than letting some stranger freely use his own fire. With a tight push of his magic the element constricted onto itself before elongating into a sleek fiery body that coiled around the blondes hand. A maw ingrained itself into the very tip, wrapped into a sleek head with two beady, white eyes. The fiery snake coiled further around his palm before lunging forward and biting at the cigarette extended towards it.

Olia yelped, nearly dropping the object as the burst of flames almost swallowed it whole, coming dangerously close to his fingers. "Shit." The raven haired boy cursed, waving his hand around to snuff out the fire.

Kingsley and the other lion stared at the two of them with wide eyes, the Ravenclaws dark, beady optics scanning Acher's little pet with keen interest.

"Blimey Olia! You okay!?" The other Gryffindor hissed, almost getting up from his seat before the green eyed boy stopped his with a flippant wave of his hand.

"Real funny." Olia smirked, even with the subtle sheen of sweat gathered at his brow bone. He lift the half burnt cigarette to his lips, taking a long drag. The boy squinted curiously. " 'does taste a bit different."

The blonde Gryffindor leaned in his chair, staring at Olia with an unimpressed gaze. "Yeah, and only you would be dumb enough to take a drag of a fag lit by a fiery snake."

The other lion only rolled his eyes at the comment.

Perhaps it would be best to say something in a situation like this, make some kind of witty joke about being 'as Slytherin as they come' yet Acher found himself not very interested in pursuing a conversation with any of the three upperclassmen. He watched for only a couple seconds as Olia returned back to his seat, snickering as his friends shook their heads in exasperabation, trying to go back to their previous conversation. It didn't really matter to Tallhill weather the boy was trying to mock him. All that mattered is that their little interaction was over and he was free to go back to his studies.

Acher watched the little snake on his hand waver back and forth. It was truly something to witness. He coiled the magic a little tighter around the creatures eyes and snout, adding a few small bumps of skin and scales where they wrapped around the eyeballs and nostrils. Willing its mouth to open he added the pairs of long, spiky teeth curved like swords yet thin like needles.

This had to be his best work yet. Acher smiled lightly, gazing at his creation as the snakes head bobbed from side to side. It's small, yet ever so bright visage casting coiling lights over his face that like wisps of flame reverberated across his features.

It striked him at that moment, not for the first time yet only then this thoroughly, just how many things he could do. Just how many opportunities were laid out before him purely because of that solid sphere of metallic energy lodged within his body.
The snake opened it's maw, letting out a shrill hiss of scorching fire, flickering its thin, flamed tongue playfully.

Acher's hand hurt, wrist red, rubbed raw by the sheer heat of the snakes flame that even the protection around his skin did not manage to stop.

The snake bit affectionately at the tip of his finger.

It hurt.

Acher loved it.

Chapter Text

Acher was doing quite well in his classes despite his lackluster attitude towards more than one subject. As it turned out even magical school did not put their first years through too much of a work load which the blonde was endlessly thankful for.

His days in Hogwarts went a little like this:

Wake up at the possibly earliest of hours, quickly shower, go to eat breakfast in the kitchen and leave for class. After class it's back to the dusty classroom at the back to practice his fire manipulation skills while trying his best to ignore the three boisterous 4th years that had somehow decided that destroying their lungs in his presence is the most entertaining thing to do. Mull around outside or in random Hogwarts hallways for as long as the curfew allows before finally going back to the dungeon and slipping into his bed while everyone is already sound asleep.

So everything was going great.

He even got to do a little celebration for Struhanka since the tiny kitten was no longer so tiny. She was currently in her 'long kitten' phase, where she was visually still very much a baby but her limbs had grown and her face was no longer as pudgy. She was much louder as well and would sometimes slip out of the dorm to pounce around the castle with the other cats. On that day she got an entire can of tuna just for herself and a ton of kisses and scratches.

When it comes to his magic practice despite the leaps and bounds he made he did feel a bit stuck. His manipulation was on another level by the time November ended, the tricks he could perform with the flames were downright gorgeous but he did notice that his predicament did not allow for much growth besides that. He could not exactly chuck fire across the classroom or try to light more of his body with it.

A wider playing field, that's what he needed...

As the seasons changed the colder winds brought with them the inevitable blur of glittery snow that covered the premises of Hogwarts in record time. It arrived precisely on December 10th, early in the morning, marking the begging of a very cold and dark winter.

Acher was quite excited for winter, mostly because the lower temperatures would allow him to practise fire casting for longer. He did have to say though that the visual aspect appealed to him as well, the castle grounds looked absolutely gorgeous covered in layers upon layers of sheer white as the thick windows of the castle froze over with the intricate swirls of frost. He found himself tracing that frost on more than one occasion with a wandering finger, his warm skin chilled against the cold expanse of the glass, leaving thin streaks of fog.

He waited for a bit after the first snow fell, not going outside for a good few days while his peers got their own fill of the winter paradise.

He left for the first time on December 14th.

Acher put on his favorite pair of dark brown gloves as he strolled through the main hall of the castle, behind him trailed a very loud and very displeased Struhanka.

"I though I gave you enough kisses today my sweet." The blonde glanced at the cat as the creature meowed, hurrying behind him on small, stubby paws.

Tallhill exhaled and stopped in his tracks, he took the cat into his arms and cradled her like a baby in the warm comfort of his jacket. The cat did not stay put whatsoever, she immidiately climbed him with the use of her ever so sharp claws, hooking those murder weapons into his clothes and trailing up like a monkey. As always, she found the most comfortable spot to be on his shoulders, more precisely draped over them like a stylish, furry shawl with her belly pressed to the back of his neck and paws on either side.

She proceeded to meow loudly again, this time straight into his left ear.

"I can't cuddle more, my little devil, I have things to do." The blonde whispered, scratching the ever impatient creature on the chin, making her purr loudly and bristle her long, white whiskers.

She let out another pathetic meow, gazing at him with those big, purple eyes that always somehow managed to be big and watery just as she was begging for something.

"No can do." He shook his head and began walking again. "I get that you don't like the cold but I have to see it, I bet the snow looks absolutely beautiful."

They passed a pair of metal suits of armour, went down a short flight of stairs and finally arrived at the entrance to the castle. The cold hit Acher square in the face before he even left the building, a long, deep caress of frozen air that made his spine tingle and eyes water ever so slightly.

Displeased, Struhanka meowed in one, continues shrill noise before getting up and hopping off of Acher's shoulders.

"Okay you devil. You stay here and get toasty in front of the fire place." The wizard sighed, bending down to give the cat one more scratch that she took eagerly despite her less than stellar demeanor. "Not a fan of the cold huh?" The feline just scrunched her nose, baring her small, pearly teeth as she hissed lowly at the entrance.

Acher just smiled, patting the cat on that little hump at the base of her spine and tail that made the creature arch up into his hand with a purr. "Run along now, I'll see you later."

Struhanka bit his index finger affectionately before stalking off with her tail raised high, ready to terrorize any rat in her way.

Acher left the building, relishing in the crunch of snow underneath his boots and the near blinding sight of the Hogwarts grounds covered top to bottom in layers upon layers of pure white. The sky was dark, though bathed in bluer hues that characterized the early morning hours. Slivers of the age old brick Hogwarts was erected with stuck out from below the mountains of snow, trailing down with the steps to the castle.

He breathed in the dry, frozen air, pushed his hat further down the waterfall of golden locks and began walking.

It was strange, to not be able to hear any birds this early in the morning. The woods were silent, frozen if you will, it was as if the layers of snow covered them like a blanket, sending the forest into a sort of slumber. The trees stood tall, barren of any leaves, their dark barks encased in layers of sheer frost than spun around it like lace.

"Must be nice being a tree." Acher whispered to what he presumed was a thick oak just at the edge of the forest. The boy ran a tentative finger down the ridges of the tree. "Adorned like that by snow and ice." As someone who had actually gone through a reincarnation Acher was a little bit sad he did not get to actually become a tree after his death. It seemed like such a peaceful existence. Especially one in a dark and mysterious forest.

The wizard sighed, trailing along the edge of the forbidden forest, watching as the thick clouds rolled by in the sky, reflecting the light of the sun in wide mounds across their backs.

In fact, he was so memorized by the sheer beauty of the winter scenery he did not notice a group of his housemates trailing behind him up until a snowball hit him directly at the back of the head.

"HEY MUDBLOOD!"

Oh boy.

Acher could only sigh, turning around to face his attackers head on.

Four Slytherin boys, two of them looked to be maybe in their second or third year, the other two were first years Tallhill could vaguely recognize from his classes.

So they finally decided to confront him after like a solid month of stalking.

Bellatrixs' little minions.

Acher took out his wand.

"Oh ho!" One of them called out. "Already itching for a fight aren't you mudblood!?" The smirk on his face was positively venomous. "Not even allowing us to talk?"

Acher quirked his bushy eyebrow, "And who said I want to hear anything you have say?"

The one at the front, a third year with a remarkeby bushy mane of brown hair let out a scratchy laugh "So mean. Well, not for long." He swiped his locks out of his face, twirling his dark wand between pale fingers. "You see, we have a sort of...greeting, within Slytherin, one you have been avoiding for a very long time."

One of the younger ones cackled "Yea, a special greeting just for the mudbloods!"

Acher was done listening to whatever was spewing out of their mouths, listening to them was like shoving toothpicks down his eardrums. With a wide flick of his hand he sent a large, hot red bolt of energy towards the closest boy who promptly crumbled like wet paper when it striked his chest. Not even fast enough to erect a shield.

A spell hurled past Achers head, barely missing him by a centimeter. The blonde scowled, eyes finding the source of the spell in the wand gripped by a red haired third year who was gazing erratically between him and one of his fallen comrades. An Expelliarmus was shooting out of Acher's wand before the blonde could even think about it, the spell zipped through the air and knocked that wand straight out if the assailants hand. The tall wizard weaved his body between a series of more spells, his agile feet rushing through the mounds of snow as he reeled back and sent another hissing bolt of energy towards the enemy.

It took only a few more spells and shields before the entire group was laying on the ground in front of Acher, groaning and rolling around in the snow. The blonde exhaled through his nose, blonde brow furrowed in irritation.

What a waste of years, for these boys to be older than him yet worse than him at dueling.

Without thinking too hard about things the blonde turned around ready to walk off only to be thrown back, a stinging spell hitting his shoulder blade.

There in front of him stood Bellatrix Black, clad in a long, black coat, her dark, springy hair free in the wind, short wand extended towards him. Her expression was equal times furious and mocking.

"We meet again!" She exclaimed, twirling the dark wood between bony fingers.

"B-Bellatrix!" One of her lackeys exclaimed from his spot on the ground.

"Shut up you useless worm!" The witch hissed back, making the younger years recoil "You couldn't even take care of the mudblood! A first year mudblood! What a disgrace!" Her voice was positively venomous. "I'll take care of this."

"But-"

"Scram!" She yelled and all four of the boys quickly wriggled themselves out of the snow before running in the direction they came from, tripping over their own feet.

Acher rubbed his sore shoulder, gazing at Bellatrix in both weariness and excitement. She was it. The boss battle so to speak, and although Acher could comfortably take out a couple brash and overconfident children who knew nothing but throwing spells around he was not so sure about beating Black. Not only was she older by several years she was also, clearly, a master duelist in the making.

Acher bit his lip, staring at the older girl intently.

Excitement steadily build inside his heart, causing it to beat at the inside of his ribcage as if seeking to carve a hole through it. He readjusted his grip on his wand, the wood shooting sparks through his fingers as if mirroring his agitated emotions. The fairy wing core seemed to flutter alongside the butterflies in his stomach.

"Filthy mudblood. What do you think you're doing, staring at me like a bloody mutt!" Bellatrix hissed, turning her nose into the air with an exaggerated scoff.

"Please," Acher hissed out, his knuckles turning white with the grip he had on his wand. "Please fight me."

Bellatrixs' face twisted, a million different emotions flashing across her expression before it settled back into a mocking grimace. "Oho, itsy bitsy first year mudblood wants to fight me? What? Eager to lose?"

Acher did not reply to that, he had enough waiting, he felt that if he was forced to hold back any longer something in his chest would pop.

Instead he did what he does best and lunged forward, calling upon the metalic sphere within him to guide his hand along the rhythm of his own magic.

[...]

Bellatrix was in a fowl mood. She got into another squabble with Narcissa late in the night which left her seething all throughout it and then into the early morning. Seeking some kind of peace she grabbed her finest coat, put on her best pair of leather bound boots and left the castle through the back door.

She loved winter, well, she loved Yule to be specific but the dazzling white visage of the season did make her feel instantly better. Black inhaled the frozen air into her lungs as she stepped down the hill and trotted next to the forbidden forest.

She was just starting to feel the calm settle within her ever so blazing heart when she came across possibly the most embarrassing show of wixen incompetence that has ever graced the earth. Four Slytherin students laid out on the snowy ground, rolling around in it like pigs.

And right in front of them, with his back turned towards Bellatrix stood that damn Slytherin mutt.

Just seeing that head of blonde hair made her blood boil.

She hated him more than she hated his blood status, which she had to give to the kid, was one hell of an achievement. To be more insufferable through your own personality rather than heritage. How commendable.

Her disdain was rooted in multiple things. His lackluster way of dressing, the way he refused to show up in the Slytherin common room or during feasts as if the entire house was beneath him, the way he didn't even attempt to acknowledge the blood status of the people above him. Most importantly that damn face of his, stoic like a piece of rock, mocking in every way possible.

What was even more infuriating was that the damn mutt did not even look like a mudblood. By all means he had the ideal features of a pureblood, from the curve of his lips to the curl of golden locks right down to impressive height, distinct from others his age. Hell, if Bellatrix only saw a picture of him she would probably be inclined to deem him the heir of some unknown to her wizard family.

And yet he wasn't.

He was a mudblood, a descendant of those bloody, filthy muggles.

Bellatrix wanted to tear each and every golden hair from his head, make sure such a feature wouldn't be tainted by the mud in his veins.

She hissed out a spell, hitting the kid at the back of his shoulder before telling those damn imbeciles behind him to get lost.

And then he had the gall to talk back to her, to stare her dead in the eyes with those endless abyss's for optics, they reflected the area around them like polished gems, no different from the sleek surface of obsidian.

Wide and analising, like the eyes of an owl.

Bellatrix wanted to spit in his face, grind it into the dirt with the heel of her shoe.

"Please fight me." His voice was airy, soft like the reflection of her silhouette in the dark pools of his optics.

And yet it held a promise of violence she was used to hearing only in her own voice.

Fine. She would give him what he so much desired. Untrained dogs need to be put in their place.

Like a viper she reeled back before launching forward, a barrage of spells leaving her wand, each one with more force and venom behind it. She kept it simple, a few knock back spells and a couple stinging hexes at first. Yet when none of them connected, instead crashing right into a shimmering shield erected by the first year she had enough of the simplicity.

She sent a powerful knockback, blue and hissing like a boiling potion, striking just where the shield was the thinnest. Black had to give it to the kid, he was good at the basics, but the basics wouldn't be enough against her. Her spell sent him stumbling back, his ward falling like a sheet of loose glass.

Bellatrix cackled, whipping her wand upwards to generate one of her favorite spells. A burst of thin acid spewed out of the stick, soaring through the air in a long, green line.

Tallhill was quick, though the clench of his jaw and the sweat on his brow betrayed his horror. He also flicked his wand up, creating a thick shield that extended vertically, protecting him from the spray. The ward hissed once hit with the acid, blue and purple bubbles sizzling out of the magical structure, followed by a burst of lilac smoke.

The wizard dropped his shield as it was too heavy to hold. Bellatrix did not let him take a breath.

With another flick she sent an arch of sharp, tiny icicles. They zipped through the air like fairies and as Tallhill was still recovering from his last ward he did not manage to erect another one. The blonde flailed his arms around, slapping the glittering needles away as many embedded themselves in his arms and thighs, other catching against the thick material of his jacket.

"Is that all you've got!?" Bellatrix yelled, cackling maniacally. It was exhilarating to see the expression of pain drawn out so vividly on those ever so stoic features.

Tallhill was quickly losing his ground, feet shuffling backward he threw a clump of humming Expelliarmus clusters that Black deflected with a couple of smaller yet thicker shields. By the tremble of her wand she could feel that his spells were powerful, they would have certainly packed a punch if they had connected with her body.

All power no variety. Bellatrix smirked. What you would expect from a first year. A talented one, yes, but still a sniveling child.

Whipping her wand Black channeled her energy through it before sending a blast of shimmering, blue ice. It quickly wrapped around Tallhills wand hand, freezing his palm around the object. The blonde hissed, grabbing onto the increasingly numb appanage as swirls of frost spread down his brown skin, sinking themselves into the flesh of his knuckles and up to the tip of his wand.

"Not so easy to throw spells now ey!?" Bellatrix laughed again. Tallhill looked up at her with a pained expression, dark optics curtained by a frill of long eyelashes that quivered with the discomfort etched onto his face. "A word of advice, mutt, you're not going to go far throwing the same spells around over and over again. Once your opponent understands your trick, they will understand all of them."

Something crossed Tallhills expression then, a subtle furrow of the brow, and an incline of the corner of his lips. Then he nodded.

Bellatrix raised her wand ready to end the duel and finally, finally grind the kids face into the snow, once and for all. This was over, without his wand the boy was useless. She smiled, wide and full of teeth, ready to bite.

The boy stepped back every so slight and Black watched with confusion as he raised his other hand, the palm empty pointed upwards. His fingers clenched into a fist before the hand relaxed, opening like a flower to a bloom of hot, red fire.

A scoff left Ballatrixs mouth. Illusions? Seriously? Is this what the first years do these days? Make stupid tricks with wandless magic that ultimately lead to nowhere? She did those when he was eight.

Black snarled "Stop playing with me mudblood!" She rushed forward ready to cast another freezing spell to put his other hand out of commission.

Yet as Tallhills hand traveled through the air, and the fire hissed and grew in size it illuminated the dark features of his face in a luminous glow that only real fire could truly do. The red sparks danced between the sun curls and reflected off of the layer of sweat raised on his cheek.

They echoed in the dark abyss of his eyes like a flame burnt against a black mirror.

Warm, the fire was warm. It was burning, Bellatrix could smell smoke and a subtle and tang of burning material.

It was flying towards her.

Tallhill let go of the fireball, no bigger than a snitch it whizzed past Bellatrixs' head, singing a part of her black locks and briefly flashing her eyes with the brightest burst of red, orange and white. Black screamed, grabbing onto the sides of her head she dropped to kneel onto the snowy ground convinced for a second that the fireball actually struck her.

She knelt like that for Merlin knows how long before slowly unfolding herself and casting her gaze behind her to the angry screeching of melting snow. The path the fireball left was marked by long, black scorch marks leading to a singular point where the flame was fizzling out with a long burst of thrashing steam and dull sparks. Slowly dying down.

Bellatrix looked back at the boy. Tallhill was kneeling in the snow as well, hand put over his frozen palm, slowly prying stiff fingers from his wand. His face was covered in the thin remnants of shimmering soot, the cuff of his jacket burnt.

It really was a fireball, an honest to Merlin fireball.

Blacks jaws clenched in anger, the witch stood back up, grabbing the wizards attention instantly. "You." She hissed. "I don't know what you're playing at mutt, but tricks will get you nowhere, believe me."
He just continued this stare, blank expression rid of any fear even as she pointed her talon wand right at it. It was as if despite their position she was beneath him.

It was so infuriating it made her blood boil.

"You mudblood! I'll show you who here is gonna look down on who!" Bellatrix bellowed, raising her wand she reeled back, a scorching ray of purple and blue bubbling at the tip of her wand-

"ENOUGH!" A shield, thick as a brick wall was suddenly thrown between them and the unmistakable voice of Gryffindors head of house cut through the chaos. The fight ceased instantly, Bellatrixs' spell fizzling out like a match.

Towards them rushed two figures. McGonagall, wearing a long, black robe and a stylish hat lined with green fur and a slightly shorter person, rushing behind her in a school uniform with winter coat hastily pulled over it. Narcissa looked disheveled, her platinum hair stewed around her face, Slytherin scarf too loose around her neck.

Her blue eyes quickly caught Bellatrixs' gaze and the pure anger burning in them was unmistakable.

[...]

It was quite stupid of Acher to just go for the fireball like that, he knew that. Yet still he could not find it in himself to fully regret it. It was an act of desperation, a last ditch effort to stand up against Bellatrix and make their fight go on for longer, even if for a little bit. He was having so much fun! How else was he supposed to keep her interest? She demanded more variety and he gave it to her.

Well, maybe chucking it at her face was not the greatest idea but he still missed so no harm was actually done.

"MISS BLACK YOU ARE COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY OUT OF LINE!" McGonagall's voice was like a strike of thunder as the woman neared them, her long wand poised high in her palm as she dropped the shield separating him and Bellatrix. It was quite the ward, thick and made of several layers that seemed to be seeping into each other, Acher watched it fall with keen interest.

The blonde got a chance to look back at his hand as McGonagall turned all her ire onto the seventh year. It was by no means frozen solid and Acher was able to warm it up with his fire, slowly pulling coils of his warmed magic through his skin. It stung though, the frost damage was as clear as day.

McGonagall suddenly waltzed over to him so Acher quickly shoved his hand into his pocket.

"Mr Tallhill! Are you okay!?" The woman fretted, pulling the wizard back onto his feet with steady hands on his shoulders. Her face was twisted in worry as she surveyed his face, presumebly for any signs of pain.

"I'm doing fine Professor." Acher shook his head. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I-" the woman sputtered. "What am I doing here!? Mr Tallhill I don't think you understand the severity of what just happened, you could have been severely injured!"

Tallhill closed his mouth, eyes trailing behind Gryffindors head of house to the two Black sisters. Narcissa was hissing something in Bellatrixs' face, expression red, lined with anger and worry. The other Black sister took whatever she was told quietly, face slightly purple with exercion, her wand trapped in her white knuckled grip.

Minerva sighed and uncurled herself, standing tall as she turned towards the two bickering Slytherins. Narcissa fell silent and both girls gave the deputy headmaster their full attention.

"We shall go to the headmasters office, there, you can both tell him what exactly transpired." The woman said, steel in her voice.

"But-" Bellatrix yelped.

"No buts!" Minerva cut her off, eyes blazing.

With that final warning all three of them followed the woman up the snowy hill, back into the castle.

[...]

The headmasters office was a large, warm space, filled with various trinkets and lined top to bottom with muttering portraits. Acher breathed in the faint smell of...something as they entered, it stirred some kind of memory within the boy, it was a very "grandma's house" kind of smell, one you could not really pin down.

They arrived in front of the headmasters desk, situated at the very end of the room, on a small elevation. Behind it sat the man himself. Older, but not old-old, the remnants of his red hair present between white locks of his beard, face wrinkled yet not tremendously so. He looked between his late 50s to early 60s. The man had a fashion sense tho, Acher liked that robe, long and pale blue with pink accents at the intricate hat pulled over his head.

Tallhills eyes slid from the man, across the desk, covered in strange objects, glass balls, vials and every kind of quill imaginable up to the tall, metal perch propped next to it. He promptly startled, somehow he had completely missed the small, red-orange creature poised just at the top, granted it was shielded from most of the room with a long, purple drape. The bird, a small, chick feathered phoenix dipped his head from underneath the confines of the satin sheet and observed him with a curious, dark eye. Acher tilted his head as well, observing him back.

He had never seen a phoenix of course so to witness the creature was something truly sublime. He was clearly in the early stage of his life, small a with uneven feathers. None the less his age did not dampen his beauty, the feathers were still majestic, puffy and scarlet red with some turning either a deeper burgundy while others sliding more towards a burnt orange. His beak was strong for a chick, with a sharp, down turned top that, in a way, reminded Acher a little of his own nose. It was shiny too, and charcoal black with a thin tip reminiscent a little of a parrot or perhaps more so an eagle.

"Mr Tallhill!" Minerva's voice and her hand on his shoulder brought Acher out of his musings.

He looked around only to see everyone in the room staring at him expectantly.

"Uh." The blonde back at the bird unsurely, scratching at his itching hands.

"I see you have spotted my dear companion Fawkes Mr Tallhill." Dumbledoor pointed out, his half moon glasses twinkling against the faint light of the sun as he turned his gaze from the blonde to the bird.

"Yes." Acher nodded. "He's beautiful Headmaster. Even as a baby." The boy could help but focus solely on the dark optics of the phoenix.

Suddenly, as if spotting something Fawkes trekked forward on his little legs across the metal banister and out of the safe confines of the satin sheets before straight up jumping off of it. Panic immidiately flared amongst the group, Acher, being the closest reached his hands out and managed to catch the bird into his outstretched palms, the chick landing safely in his grasp.

"Oh Merlin!" McGonagall fretted next to him, grabbing onto her forehead.

"Well that was quite the fall there Fawkes." Dumbledoor laughed though his voice was a little strained, he clearly did not expect that either. "Nice catch there. Maybe you should consider quidditch Mr Tallhill."

Acher didn't reply, staring at the creature in his palms, the bird was incredibly warm and super soft. Fawkes leaned down, head angling towards his hands before a single tear rolled out of his black eye and tumbled down his beak.

The wizard yelped in pain when the tear fell onto his injured hand, producing a faint streak of steam as the wounds on his palm closed. The red, angry blemishes of frost damage dispelled back into a healthy brown of his skin.

Acher stared in fascination at the small chick. Such power hiding in a single tear...

"Mr Tallhill were you injured!?" Minerva questioned, now grabbing both his shoulders and turning him towards her.

"I mean I was but the worst seems to be taken care of now." He replied, gazing down at Fawkes thankfully. The phoenix just ruffled his feather, puffing them up proudly.

"Of course! Hmph." The bird tweeted, stretching out his tiny wings. His voice was melodic if a little shrill.

"See this is what I mean Albus!" McGonagall turned towards the headmaster. "They were fighting as if they wanted to kill each other! If I hadn't intervened they might as well had."

The old man turned his eyes between Acher and Bellatrix, surveying them both with a hard gaze before leaning back in his chair. "Why were the two of you fighting?"

Bellatrix's shoulders tensed while Narcissa looked close to strangling her sister herself.

"Just a little squabble sir." Acher stated making the entire room once again look at him, this time in shock. "Frankly, I quite enjoyed our duel." The wizard turned to the dark haired witch, inkling his head in a small bow. "Thank you for the opportunity Black, I learned a lot from you today. I wish we had more time to get more acquainted before you graduate."

"I- You-" Bellatrix stammered, her expression flickering between, bewildered, offended and angry, face as scarlet as a tomato.

"Hm." Dumbledoor hummed. "As much as I'm inclined to believe your words Mr Tallhill I can't say that I am fully convinced." He stroked the edge of his beard, pulling lightly at the sideburns. "Perhaps a talk with your head of house would help you open up-"

"Albus." Minerva cut in. "If I may, I want to talk with Mr Tallhill myself."

The headmaster quirked a bushy eyebrow.

"With all do respect, I think Professor Slughorn may be a bit busy with collecting Snow Mucks this time of the year. Bothering him right now may not be the best idea." The tall witch insisted, her hand squeezing down on Acher's shoulder.

Albus nodded slowly before sighing. "If you so desire to Minerva you may have the talk with Mr Tallhill." His gaze once again swept between Bellatrix and Acher. "Both of you have refused to talk about the exact reason for your fight yet I'm sure a detention will help to loosen your tongue a little."

Bellatrix groaned under her breath, Narcissa subtly kicking her on the ankle with the edge of her snow boots.

Acher tentatively ran his finger down Fawkes's spine, the creature letting out a small, sigh. He watched the way those beautiful feathers gleamed in the morning light. The magic in his chest seemed to be subtly lurching towards the phoenix, the feeling of fire just at the edge of his fingertips.

"Mr Tallhill, I believe it is time for you and Fawkes to part. He seems quite spent after that leap he had taken." Dumbledoor smiled, eyes twinkling as he stared at the creature in his hands.

Tallhill nodded reluctantly, putting his palms up to the metal perch and allowing the creature to step back onto it, retreating into the confines of the drape in a sleepy waddle.

The meeting concluded with one more scolding from Minerva and a couple jokes from Dumbledoor who seemed quite amused by the entire situation.

Bellatrix sent Acher the last poisonous gaze as they left the headmasters office before she whipped around and strolled down the opposite hallway, her coat billowing behind her dramatically. He was pretty sure that was not the way to the Slytherin common room which meant the girl was instead going somewhere else to brood some more.

"I apologize for everything." Narcissa spoke suddenly, her voice breathy as she stepped in front of Acher. Her shoulders were tense with anger yet her soft face was just sad and disappointed. "I hope my sister did not do anything too devastating. She can be really...intense."

"That she is." Acher nodded "She's also a terrific fighter though."

Narcissa watched him for a couple seconds before her expression softened and brightened up a little. "You remind me a bit of her when she was a child you know? You may not be as boisterous or demanding but you are rather brash. A little bit of a Gryffindor, if you will. Just like her."

Tallhills eyebrows quirked. "Sounds like something she would not like to hear."

Narcissa giggled. "Perhaps not."

"Mr Tallhill." Minerva called out making the boy turn towards her. "Shall we go to my office?" The woman was waiting for him, watching his interaction with a keen eye.

He looked back towards Narcissa, her icy eyes observing him back with an amount of fondness he was not used to seeing at all.

He coughed. "Yes, um, I need to go now so. Bye." Before swiftly turning away to catch up to McGoangall.

Chapter Text

Minerva watched Acher silently as the blonde sat down in front of her desk, immidiately slouching into the seat as if his body was made out of wet clay that could not possibly retain it's original shape for even a second. His face was lightly dirty, locks a tad bit disheveled along with the jacket pulled over his body.

"A gingerbread Mr Tallhill?" She proposed, sliding the bowl she had on her desk over to the wizard who promptly lit up like a Christmas tree when seeing it.

He didn't even say anything, just dug his fingers into the bowl and pulled out three of them, stuffing one into his mouth.

Minerva sighed, leaning back in her chair and observing the Slytherin. The fact that she was even doing this for a member of the house of snakes was highly unusual and she knew that. She had nothing against the house, such frivolous squabbles were child's play and McGonagall was an adult. Yet she understood that being the head of Gryffindor interviewing the snake was not really her job.

And yet she, in a way, felt responsible for Acher.

Perhaps it was the fact that she was the one to introduce him to Diagon Alley that mad her perceive the child as partially her own despite not being his head of house. Also, and it was hard for her to admit this, she felt kind of robbed. When meeting Acher for the first time she was convinced the cheeky bugger would be a Gryffindor, he'd look well in a red tie, running around with the other first years as insufferable as their pranks were. She could see him being good friends with Remus, that quiet boy was inteligent and thorough and could use someone a bit more bull headed to aid him in coming out of his shell, plus she had no doubt Tallhill would not care for his less than fortunate affliction.

When the hat pronounced him a Slytherin all those ideas about Acher in a red tie popped like bubbles. Minerva was left gaping as the boy slid off the stool and gave her back the object before parading over to the line of student who were all already assessing him like vipers.

Minerva did not believe it.

Call it being delusional but she, not for even a second believed that the boy was meant to be sorted into that house. He was a Ravenclaw, he was a Gryffindor but he was absolutely not a Hufflepuff and neither a Slytherin.

From what she could see the boy was not at all subtle and she highly doubted he could be coy. Perhaps 'ambitious' fit him in a way but from what she could hear from other teachers he was less ambitious and more hyperfocused on certain tasks and subjects while completely disregarding the others. This idea of him being a secret manipulator was downright laughable to Minerva when the boy did not seem to even be aware of most of his classmates existences.

"How are you fairing at Hogwarts Mr Tallhill?" McGonagall began as Acher was chewing on the remnants of the third cookie.

"It's been amazing Professor, I've been learning so much it sometimes feels like my head is one of those old watermelons that start to split on the outside." The wizard motioned vaguely over his head.

"Watermelons?" Minerva quirked a brow to which the boy just nodded eagerly, scraping down the icing from one of the cookies with his front teeth.

"Well." She cleared her throat. "I've noticed that you haven't been making many friends Mr Tallhill. I also cannot help but point out your lack of attendence during meal times."

Acher looked around unsurely, chewing at the end of the cookie with his molars as if seeking some kind of sensation. "I've been eating in the kitchens." He admitted. "I don't like the dining hall."

Minerva nodded sagely. "This is why you're here Mr Tallhill. You do not have to pretend, I know there's things happening in your house that are causing you to alienate yourself from your peers."

Acher's face was unreadable, the boy was glancing subtly out the window, gazing at the approaching grey clouds as if they held salvation from the situation he found himself in. Minerva was not surprised, she caught the blonde day dreaming or distracted more than she could count. Even if he did try a bit more during her lessons to stay focused. There was something very water like about the boy, his body and mind seemed to spill outside of the bounds of social situations and what's considered proper.

"I just want you to know that you can tell me anything." She assured him, gazing expectantly at the boy in front of her.

Silence fell, only the quiet snap of another ginger cookie ringing through it as Tallhill took another unsure bite.

"Uh..." He finally said through another mouthful. "I guess I don't really know how to socialize with my roommate's? They are quite... stiff." The blond grumbled, scratching at the bridge of his nose with his pinky.

McGonagall nodded. "Yes, well pureblood wizards are most of the time brought up within a certain style of parenting. Old fashioned, so to speak, so they can be a bit closed off." She said matter of factley."It is important however that you do make connections within your own house Mr Tallhill. Even if the company can be "stiff" as you say it."

Acher just pushed the rest of the cookie into his mouth, chewing it begrudgingly.

"As for that little 'habit' of yours, regarding your attendence, or lack thereof, during meals. I do expect you to start showing up for meals from now on."

The boy looked at her from underneath the bushy line of his eyebrows. He looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it, simply nodding and stuffing another cookie into his mouth, uncaring of the small crumbs that tumbled down his chin and onto his jacket.

"Excellent." Minerva clapped, leaning forward in her chair, hands folded. "I know you can do it Mr Tallhill, you have proven over and over again during my lessons that you are a very competent young man, I'm sure there are other like minded people out there who you can meet and befriend." She said before her voice turned a little more serious. "Now, the whole Bellatrix Black situation is rather troublesome. I understand you have already expressed everything you were willing to to the Headmaster, but is there anything you would want to add?"

Acher swallowed, craned his neck up a bit with a small sigh, gazing up at the ceiling "No Professor." He denied.

Minerva nodded, lips pressing together. "Alright, I understand."

[...]

Snape did not like the main hall, it was way too big and triggered something within his stomach that made the organ do uncomfortable twirls and lurches. He felt way too small in the presence of the gigantic windows and the ever so tall ceiling. Nevertheless he came there everyday, three times a day, sat his little boney bum on the wooden bench and ate along with his housemates.

Severus ate as much as he could during those meals, knowing he would not be able to bask in such luxury upon returning home. His favorite was the toast with melted cheese on top, he liked to put thin slices of tomatoes, sprinkle it with salt and pepper and pair it with a nice cup of Earl Grey. Perhaps he should be eating more meat, as that was the most expensive yet even when presented with the option the young wizard could not deny himself what he truly found tasty.

It was one of those breakfasts when he delighting himself in that meal, chewing away at the piece of bread when his ears caught a conversation exchanged between two second years who sat a few inches off to his left.

"Did you know there was a fight this morning?" A girl with strawberry blonde hair whispered to her friend, the other witch nibbling on a spoonful of mushy oatmeal.

"Who fought?" The other one replied, her round face crinkling with interest.

"Apparently it was Bellatrix and a first year!" The blonde whisper-yelled, almost spilling her glass of milk with the way her entire body seemed to be vibrating with excitement.

Snape nearly choked on his own food. That was an absolutely insane statement, he'd call the girl downright mad if he was the one she had told this to. I mean, a first year fighting a seventh year!? Let alone Bellatrix Black, one of the most feared wixen in the school known for being equally as intelligent and terrifying. There is no way, just now way in hell...

Snape frowned at his toast.

Unless... no, that was an absolutely stupid thought. That was a one time thing, there is no way...

"Do you know who the first year was?" A ginger haired boy chimed in from across the table.

The strawberry blonde frowned, "Yeah, um I heard some things, I think it was that one tall kid."

"The blonde one with a big nose?" A girl sitting next to the red haired wizard asked, chewing on a piece of apple crudely stabbed onto a fork.

"Yes that one!" She exclaimed, snapping her fingers.

Snape wanted to throw up, looking at his plate in abject horror. That complete idiot went out there and did it again. Was it because of Severus? Has Snape's little encounter with the seventh year spurred some kind of rebellious spirit within his roommate? The boy swallowed, mouth as dry as desert sand. That blonde idiot went out there and painted an even bigger target ok his back, which most likely meant that Severus would end up being bullied by proxy. Especially since he lived in the same room as him and was also of a similar blood status-

"Yeah, I expected it would be him. He has that troublemaker look with the way he walks and talks." The girl with the apple slice shrugged her shoulders, a golden heirship ring glittering on her finger with the movement.

The round faced witch sitting across from her shook her head. "Now let's not speak of that here."

Her blonde friend scoffed, "What's the problem? Not like he ever shows up to meals anyways-"

As if his morning could not get any worse it just does. A shadow passes over Snape before a heavy body settles next to him on the space separating him from the group of second years. The entire section of the table falls silent. For a second everyone gapes at Tallhill before averting their eyes to their own plates.

Tallhill just sat there for what felt like an eternity, allowing the tense atmosphere to settle over the entire group like mist. Snape allowed himself to glance up at the boy through the dense waterfall of his black hair, subtly peeking between the strands. He almost flinched seeing how hard the other wizards jaw is clenched, the subtle shadow of a vein popping at the side of his neck as he stares down at the table, fists balled on top of the surface.

Then he slowl picked up a spoon resting next to some kind of salad and loads up his plate with a single serving of it. His posture tense, movements mechanical.

Looking around it was kind of comical to see both the group of second years as well as other first years physically will themselves to resume their conversations. Trying their hardest in the meantime to pretend the curly blonde doesn't exist.

Tallhill took a subtle bite of his meager meal, biting down with his front teeth as if unwilling to let the food touch his lips.

As the conversations resumed there's a sentence that weaves through the noise perhaps a little too loudly than it was supposed to.

"He's mad I tell you." The second year blonde girl from before whispered frantically to her friend.

A fist slammed onto the table, Tallhill leaning forward over his plate and allowing the mop of his blonde locks to completely shield his face, leaving only the tense line of his neck and fists exposed.

Snape's heart almost jumped out of his ribcage, his roommates fist landed a little too close to his elbow.

Their entire half of the table was looking at Tallhill now, eyes wide as saucers, conversations completely ceasing. The blonde lift his head ever so slightly and glared straight at the whispering girl from before who promptly paled by a couple shades. Then, he put his hands down on the table, lift himself up, stepped over the bench and left.

Snape was left gaping, watching as the brown skinned wizard walked down the aisle in brisk steps, not even glancing back.

On that particular morning Severus decided that his roommate was not in fact a weirdo.

He was an absolute psycho.

[...]

Oh that was close. Acher clutched at his stomach, face a little green as he made his way through the Hogwarts hallways. When McGonagall demanded he'd show up for meals he initially thought he could get away with at least not eating breakfast the first time around. Yet as he left she leveled him with a very hard look as if she could read his thoughts before shaking her head.

So to breakfast he went, and what a disaster that was. Way too many people, not only that the Gryffindors were particularly excited that day, the table of lions screaming to the high heavens about something quidditch related Acher did not want to muddle his brain with. He also went there on an empty stomach and as he usually eats very early he felt particularly peeved from the lack of food, a dull headache setting at the back of his skull, not only that but his stomach was starting to ache as well.

He decided to sit wherever and not bother with talking much. Acher angled his body forward to put more pressure on his mid section to avoid the stomach ache getting any worse.

And then there was the food. Yuck. He tried to not pay attention to any of the meat as he just in general had a problem with the texture and seeing the food be placed in big piles would propably make him projectile vomit. He set his eyes on a salad, a leafy greens one, not one of those lathered top to bottom in thick sauce. Just some lettuce, tomatoes, radishes and whatnot cut up nicely and served with some light dressing. The boy put a small spoonful of it on his plate and took a cautious bite.

For a second it was fine.

And then it wasn't.

An olive, a goddamned olive in his salad.

Acher slammed his fist onto the table, leaning forward and begging, just begging in his mind to whatever is out there to not vomit. Some brash Gryffindor yelled something which made the entire house laugh, subsequently increasing the already high volume of the entire room tenfold.

No, he could not do it. The noise, the food, the absolute betrayal the salad just committed. Acher could not stay there.

He wanted to check whether McGonagall was looking at him from her spot at the teachers table so he looked up but ended up just staring at some random girl whose head was conveniently in front of it.

Acher ended up leaving anyways, the embarrassment of suddenly keeling over and vomiting was not worth it. He would propably have to face McGonagalls ire but at least he wouldnt make an ever worse impression on his peers.

[...]

Acher decided not to go back home for Christmas. It's not like he was missing much as he was the only one who celebrated it anyways. Isabella was not very fond of the entire ordeal and opted to drowning herself in whiskey in front of the television like always.

He scribbled a short little note back to his mother and sent it with the nearest Hogwarts owl who seemed interested enough in the sunflower seeds he carried to do his bidding. Acher also sent one to Ms Pines, telling her a bit more about his Hogwarts house and a couple sentences about his studies. Over all he kept it short and concise, as it should be.

Practically everyone left the school to celebrate, and as the people trickled out the decorations trickled in. Gigantic Christmas trees lined the hallways, decorated top to bottom in sparkling ornaments and long trails of golden fluff climbing higher and higher to the golden stars posied right at the very top. Everything seemed to glitter with gold, burgundy and forest green, and as the winter storms outside raged on the warmth of the fireplaces and torches felt that much more soothing.

Acher awoke on the first day after everyone left to the startling silence of his doorm room. It was dark outside, pitch black in fact as it usually was deep in the midst of winter, especially when most of the light was dampened anyway by the black lake.
It was cold, the boy buried himself a little deeper into the pillow, rubbing his feet together. The room was painted in deep dark greens and leasure blues, the absence of his roommates usual snoring made it seem as if the space was stuck in time.

He turned his head to see Struhanka laying on his other pillow, her body twisted into a tight ball of smooth and short fur, whiskers sticking up like antennas from underneath her tail.

"Merry Christmas Struhanka." Acher whispered. The cat replied with short exasperabated huff, further pushing her snout into her paws.

What a cranky cat.

He finally extracted himself from the covers, pushing his feet into the cold material of his slippers and grabbing a handful of clothes. Since he did not have to wear his uniform during the break he decided on wearing a semi Christmasy sweater (red with little white circles at the neckline) and a comfortable pair of brown pants. Also some checkered socks, green and blue, with bright red soles. He showered quickly, pulling his hair into a haphazard ponytail that hung loosely at the base of his neck.

Leaving the dorm Acher took his time with walking through the main area of the Slytherin dungeon, now that it was not occupied and he did not have to sprint through it. He eyed the thin fire burning at the fireplace, the way it illuminated the nearby couches and armchairs with languid orange threads. Acher stood in the middle of the room for what felt like an eternity, simply soaking in the absolute silence and the faint crackling of the logs.

The walk to the main hall was strangely otherworldly, the fact that he was completely alone made the gigantic twinkling trees and the vibrant decorations seem that much more enchanting. He couldn't help but stop a couple times just to gaze at his own face reflected in the sizable ornate bulbs that styled the pine trees. The blonde reached out and poked the closest ornament, watching the layers upon layers of glitter shimmer with the movement like a kaleidoscope of a million golden gems.

Even the gigantic suits of armour were sporting long golden chains of stars that were draped over them like necklaces.

When he arrived at the main hall he was startled to see its emptiness. All the tables were decorated but nobody sat at them. The ceiling was dark yet peppered with an illusion of white falling snowflakes, long candles raised high into the air casting soft, orange lights.

Acher cautiously slipped into a random seat at the Slytherin table and just like that a plate appeared in front of him sporting two sunny side up eggs, a scoop of Mac and cheese and two toasted milk buns lathered with honey. He blinked and a cup of what seemed to be some kind of fruity tea settled itself next to the plate.

Acher smiled and took no time digging in.

It was the first time he truly got to experience eating in the great hall in a way that was actually nice. He had his own meal, none of the food was touching what it was not supposed to and it all fit on his own plate. The blissful silence and the darker than usual lighting was like a balm on his ever so agitated soul. He was scarfing down the meal like a man starved.

He was just in the midst of finally digging his teeth into one of the warm buns when Dumbledoors cheerful yet mellow voice suddenly rung out through the hall.

"I hope this Christmas morning has been more that happy for everyone." The wise old man was standing upon the podium and sporting a deep red robe, decorated with dark green accents and tiny golden bells, it reminded Acher of a Jester's outfit.

The blonde looked around only to find three more people besides him and Dumbledoor in the main hall. One lonesome Ravenclaw boy and two Hufflepuffs crowded around a plate of chocolate cookies. Besides that the hall was empty, no one besides the Headmaster remained out of the faculty.

Something in Acher's chest unscrewed itself loose and he could suddenly breathe better.

He jolted back to reality once he realized Dumbledoors little speech has ended and the wise wizard retreated back into his seat at the teachers table. Acher quickly returned to his plate, wolfing down the warm bread and licking trails of honey from his fingers. Once he was done with his food and simply sitting there, sipping on the warm tea a large, a grey-white owl suddenly swooped down and landed next to his plate with a sizable package clutched in its talons. The object made a dull thunk noise as the creature perched itself on top of it with an exacerbated hoot.

"Finally." The bird huffed, puffing up its feathers and stretching out its long wings. "Way too heavy for how little I get in reward."

Then it looked down at him with expectation in its large, yellow eyes.

Acher reached out cautiously and untied the bright red cord twisted around the package from the birds leg. The creature stretched out it's appendage dramatically before jumping down from it's perch onto the table.

He wasted no time ripping the paper and digging right into the inside of the package. There was a letter in a bright red envelope sitting right at the top that simply read:

"Merry Christmas Acher!

I hope the rest of your days at Hogwarts are as exciting and enchanting as you described in that note you sent me! Here is just a little something to brighten your mood during these long, dark days of winter.

With love, Mara Pines."

A small smile bloomed across the blondes face before he redirected his gaze to the contents of the package. There was some kind of smaller and longer box and an entire jar of candy next to it. The boy took out the sweets first and assessed them. It was muggle candy, specifically an entire jar of red and white, swirly peppermint. He opened it and with greedy fingers took one into his mouth. The smaller package was much more of a surprise though not at all unusual for Ms Pines. Inside, wrapped in brown paper was a golden hair clip, depicting a half of a rising sun, studded in bits of what seemed to be polished sea glass, gleaming in a mix of blues and oranges.

Acher turned it in his hands with a slacked jaw.

He knew Ms Pines had a certain agenda when it came to him and more importantly his appearance. As the owner of a beauty shop she was versed in many areas of cosmetology and fashion and so she often used his above average looks as a sort manekin to try out her new ideas. There were days when all he did was go to her store to have his hair doused in all sorts of different shampoos and conditioners, to have foundations shades tested and skin care products examined. Don't get it wrong, it was a very basic task and he was not forced into any of it. He was also compensated in more ways than one, with having practically free range over what he wanted from the store.

The generosity extended to the gifts he got from the woman. Now, he usually received things like shampoos and creams, nothing too expensive or eye-catching. Just simple self care products.

This. Now this was something else.

Acher untied his hair before re-tying it into a haphazard knot at the base of his skull and clipping the shiny object over it. The clamp was strong, keeping the lion like mane of hair securely in place.

Acher smiled again. He was going to have to write another note to properly thank Ms Pines. Though by the looks of it he would have to bribe the owl with some food first, the animal was glaring at him completely unamused, its feathery eyebrows arched impatiently.

He reached out his hand with some bread on it only to be promptly bitten on the finger by a very annoyed owl.

[...]

The breakfast was great and set a positive mood for the rest of the day. He decided since the castle was basically empty he should go out there and explore some other hallways which were usually off limits to him. He ended up on the first floor at the very back of the castle where the classrooms grew sparse and so did the portraits, instead being replaced by large landscapes and bowls of fruit. Acher quite liked looking at the fruit, he stood in front of a painting of an entire bowl of green apples for a solid two minutes, something about the color and the shape just appealing to him.

While walking around aimlessly and admiring the various oranges, pears and walnuts in blissful solitude Acher heard the characteristic sound of stubby paws hitting the stone ground nearing from behind.

"Struhanka?" The blonde turned to the sound and indeed the furry creature was skipping towards him, her triangular ears raised high into the air along with her long tail. "Hello there sweet lady." The boy crouched down to fully meet the feline.

Then he noticed something was sticking out of the cats mouth, some kind of long, grey cord.

"What have you got there sweet heart?" Petting the cat on the head the blonde leaned in closer. He was gearing up to have to pry the creatures jaws open but then Struhanka proceeded to just spit out the contents of her mouth right onto his pants.

A mouse.

The boy stared blankly as the creature ruffled its damp fur, looked around before quickly scrambling off of his legs.

"You can't be doing that Struhanka. You have enough food not to have to hunt." The wizard frowned at the cat who simply licked her paw innocently, not at all bothered by the scolding.

He sighed and got back to his feet. Acher watched as the tiny mouse skidded down the hallway.

Then something very curious happened, the tiny animal jumped up and wriggled itself underneath an old painting, disappearing from his sight. As if...as if there was something behind that painting.

The boy stood there for a couple silent moments, his mind whirling a thousand thoughts a second before arriving at a very particular one.

Secret passage.

His curiosity peaked Acher quickly walked over to the painting, the slab of wood depicting a run of the mill woodland hill side with a long river stretched across it. He had to put his back into peeling the passage open, hooking his fingers underneath the ornate frame before pulling with all his might. Luckily nothing broke and after a strong, persistent tug the makeshift door popped open to reveal an opening carved into the brick wall that led straight into a dusty, pitch black hallway.

"So this is what I get as a gift this year." Acher whispered gazing into the abyss of one of Hogwarts secret passages.

Chapter Text

The walls were ever so slightly damp like a strip of hard moss, the air freezing, nipping at his fingers and nose, silence hanging heavy in the air like a weighted blanket.

With how narrow the secret passage was Acher could skim both his palms across the surface of the walls while jogging forward with no issue. There was no light but that was no problem for the wizard, he wasted no time sparking a small flame, levitating it above his head.

"This is how lanterns feel..." He mused to himself, watching as the orange light danced across the damp walls, flickering back and forth.

Tap tap tap, the reincarnates cheery footsteps carried him through the olden hallways, unturned and dark like a smooth rock lodged at the bottom of the ocean, only now stirred by a young current. The hallway seemed to be narrowing, then once again expanding, seizing itself as if a muscle pulled taunt. At one point Acher had to bend forward to not hit his head against the approaching ceiling then once more he could enjoy running at full height as the brick walls trailed upwards in seemingly endless rows. Acher felt like a mouse, skittering through the cracks and holes of an apartment building.

The hallway seemed to be leading slightly down, tipping slowly but surely forward, steps leading down appearing at random times. The first one caught Acher so off guard he nearly had a heart attack when he stepped forward only to find air under his foot.

There was also, of course, a staggering amount of cobwebs, luckily most of them were high on the ceiling so the blonde did not have to barrel his way through some spiders work and end up with its lunch on his face.

When he was maybe ten minutes into his little adventure he suddenly heard something that sounded quite a lot like a mouse...

Acher stopped, ears perked up. Logically he would hear some mice running around these parts since it was a mouse that showed him the passage in the first place. But this...this mouse sounded weird.

It honestly reminded him a bit of a dog, with the way the sound was so quick and whiney...

It echoed somewhere in the distance as if trapped underneath him.

Tallhill ran up ahead, weaving his way between the walls in the general direction of the sound. He no longer paid attention to where he was going, only seeking that strange chitter. It was weird, the blonde seemed to be getting simultaneously closer and further away from the sound the more he ran. The whines bounced around the blackened, wet walls disorienting him further.

The heel of his foot hit the edge of something distinctly metal and the boy did not have time to think before that thing gave out from underneath him. There was the sound of rusty iron screeching together, the flame above his head flipped in his vision, searing spots into his eyesight before dispersing, snuffed out by his own panic.

Then he fell, for what felt like eternity Acher's body pummeled through the air, akin to a bird shot out of the sky. In reality it must've only been a measly two seconds before his left foot caught onto a metal bar, slowing down his descent and horribly twisting his ankle in the process. Then one, two seconds and his body hit the ground below. Flat on his back knocking all air out of him the blonde fell straight into a shallow puddle of muddy waters laid dormant in that sewer passage for what must've been hundreds of years. Up until he fell into it ass first, of course.

At first Acher did not even feel any sort of pain, just shock really. He by no means considered himself invincible but up to that point every time he got hurt it was mostly out of his own volition. And yet here he was, falling through a trap door like some blind fool. He honestly felt more embarrassed that anything.

Then the pain set in.

Acher hissed, grabbing at his leg. Pain radiated up his ankle, the skin around it already swolled red and purple, bruised like fruit. It took some flopping around before the boy managed to get back onto his feet, his pants soaked top to bottom not to mention the slippers which were currently submerged in the murky waters.

The blonde begrudgingly flickered back on the small flame above his head. Zigzags of the orange lights sprung to life across the black sewage, illuminating his drowning, swollen ankle.

At least the water was pleasently cool on his injury. Though it was actually more freezing than anything.

He did not get a chance to ponder too much about that before the shrill yipping sound from before once again cut through the heavy silence. It was closer now, clearer too. The sound came from behind him. He knew it.

Still curious Tallhill wobbled through the stale waters at his feet, down the circular tunnel, keeping a steady hand against the wall. His back hurt, his ribs as well as the line of his spine throbbing a dull pain. No wonder since he fell on his back. Still, the wizard was grateful he did not strike head first against that ground instead. Small victories.

Acher actually though he might be hallucinating when he spotted something ghostly white stumbling through the darkness up ahead. Small too, round and puffy like a woolen sea urchin it wobbled on unsteady, stumpy legs.

Once it heard him the small creature instantly began to run in his direction, yipping and yowling in what the wizard presumed to be excitement. Then, as it entered the circle of light his flame emitted, fhe tiny thing froze in its tracks.

It was a puppy. A tiny, fluffy, white thing with small, triangular ears and a pair of wide, crystal blue eyes glazed in tears and baby innocence. It was half submerged in the shallow waters, its pristine snow white coat soaked through at the bottom.

"I didn't know you could bring dogs to Hogwarts..." Acher murmured and the dog answered with another round of shrill barking and uncertain tail wagging. "What are you doing here?"

The puppy began to circle him, running between his legs and kicking more water everywhere with its tiny paws.

"Hey stop that, I'm already soaked enough-" Acher hissed only for the creature to promptly shake it's body vigorously, splattering all the dirty water even further up Acher's clothes. "Thanks..." The blonde muttered sarcastically, receiving only a happy smile from the white creature before him.

The dog started running again. Annoyed, Acher bent down and swooped the tiny creature into his hand, holding it up with one palm like an apple. The creature wriggled around barking up a storm "Stop that." Acher commanded but as with any animal he interacted with his instructions were not followed, what he got instead was a weak yet angry bite to his ring finger. "Do I taste good?" The blonde asked sarcastically and let the dog go with a sigh.

The wizard observed the small thing. It was clearly some kind of special species of dog, by the looks of it once the thing grows up it will have a killer mane of hair. Also those eyes just scream "I'm definitely part some kind of magical creature, if not one myself".

Acher sighed. "Well, let's look for a way to get out of here. Maybe then we can find your owner." Before trotting up the way the creature came from. The dog wasted no time following him, jumping around in the dark waters excitedly, at one point even grabbing the hems of his trousers, dragging him forward when he took a bit too long limping.

As they walked, the air began to grow more frigid and less stale. He had to increase the size of the flame yet even then the soaked material of his clothes sapped the warmth right out of him.

"That's good though." He whispered to the puppy who looked up at him with perked up ears. "It means we are getting closer to an exit."

When coming to a place where the hallway split in two the blond would follow whatever one brought in even the faintest breeze, sometimes the dog would help him choose, sniffing around for anything in the air. At some point, after crawling through what was essentially a shaft in the wall they arrived at a tunnel with the dim imprint of light pulsing in the distance. Acher exhaled heavily, the sigh echoing down the small, brick hallway.

"Come on." He took the puppy into his arms, no longer caring for the paw prints soaking into his sweater, it was all muddied anyways. The freezing water around his ankles sloshed as he made his way through the black sewage, the puppy in his arms sniffing at his nose and hair while yipping up at the flame above his head in child-like wonder.

The closer he came to the light the more freezing was the water, the chilly air soon turning biting as well. Wind picked up his hair, tugging at the partially soaked strands.

The puppy in his arms was showing no signs of being at all bothered by the pummeling temperatures, merely barking excitedly at the sight of snowflakes twirling through the opening. Acher subconsciously hugged the small animal tighter, receiving no comfort from any body heat it might be emitting.

Finally they emerged out of the tunnel. Acher had to squint to orient himself. It looked like they just exited out of the Hogwarts sewers at the furthest side of the castle. He could just vaguely make out the familiar line of dark trees ahead of them through the rampaging snow storm. The wind was going absolutely wild, spewing snow left and right, kicking up the already thick layers of white creating icy whirlpools.

Acher stood there for what felt like an eternity merely staring into the maw of the storm like a blinded fool. It was downright hypnotic the way the thick snowflakes weaved through each other, the way the icy wind yanked and twisted each one through itself. His eyes watered, despite the clouded sky the snow was almost blinding, layers upon layers of soft ice expanding in his vision, not just white but glowing.

The wizard looked up towards the sky, meeting face first with the circular dance of a billion snowflakes cascading down upon him against the background of the grey sky. He felt them settle against his eyelashes, others catching onto the crown of his hair. A singular snowflake landed on the line of his cupid's bow, flushed red from the cold. Acher licked it off, tasing the frozen earthiness on his tongue.

It was not beautiful. Such a word would not describe it.

It was suffocating, but in a way that made Acher not want to ever take another breath ever again.

The dog in his arms strated to suddenly wriggle, Acher let it go, allowing the roll of fur to slip between his numb fingers and onto the ground. Despite how small it was the creature's stubby legs were actually quite tall, allowing it to not completely sink the piled snow. It also seemed to walk on it with staggering efficiency.

He watched as the dog quickly ran into the thick of the storm, it's white shape nearly completely blending into the the scenery, like a blob of white ink pressed onto a clean page. Merely the imprint of a shadow marking its spot.

Up ahead, in the swirling distant storm that shrouded the trees like a thick mist the silhouettes of a group of creatures emerged through the white inferno. Acher had to squint through the snow on his eyelashes to properly see them.

A pack of wolves. Large and proud, with tall triangular ears and distinct manes of layered fur, their white coats nearly completely blending into the environment. He couldn't tell how many there were exactly, probably somewhere between five and ten.

A shrill, excited bark snapped the blonde out of his stupor, the small puppy he had saved turned towards him once more and yipped happily in his direction. Stunned, Acher raised his hand and slowly waved at the tiny creature. He watched as it turned back around and ran back to his pack, soon blending in with the grey silhouettes.

Acher blinked and the wolves were gone, melted into the grey swarm as if they were never there in the first place.

He exhaled than inhaled again. In and out, in and out. The freezing wind bit his lips and nostrils, whipping his golden locks back and forth across his forehead. Clenching his jaw to stop the chatter of his teeth the wizard turned around and gazed up at Hogwarts. The gigantic, dark structure loomed over him, glazed top to bottom in snow and long icicles, the tips of the highest towers disappearing almost completely in the white storm.

He began to walk back to the entrance.

His feet sunk into the white earth, penetrating his slippers with shards of such unimaginable coldness the blonde could no longer feel any of his toes. The wizards warm breath billowed out of his mouth in long puffs of sheer mist, he watched it blend into the storm. Caught in the maw of the tempest. He could do nothing but allow it to drag him into itself, a leaf in the midst of a hurricane, completely helpless.

In a way though the young man had no real desire to leave. He was content with watching the dark peaks of the forest bend against the harsh winds.

With how thick the mayhem was, the space around him past the tree line was bathed in a mist of white completely obscuring the view as if the world beyond that point did not exist.

Like a tiny glass figurine in a snow globe he watched the snow around him swirl in circles.

[...]

"Mr Tallhill!!" Pomfrey shrieked, hopping off the chair she was sitting on causing it to clatter to the floor of the infirmary.

Said wizard was standing in doorway, wet and muddied top to bottom, the snow in his hair glittering against the orange light of the candles. His skin was pallid, bluish even at the face, wet locks sticking to his forehead.

"I think my ankle may be twisted." The blond stated, looking down at his feet.

"That is the least if our worries-" the woman blabbered, grabbing him by the arm and depositing him onto the nearest ready bed like he didn't have legs of his own. "What is- what!? What on Merlin's beard were you doing!? Mr Tallhill you look like you just- oh Morgana! Were you outside!?"

The young man smacked his lips a couple times before stating: "I went out an slipped."

"Slipped!" The witch wailed "Slipped in the middle of a blizzard Mr Tallhill!" she let out a frustrated groan "What on Merlin's beard happened to your clothes Mr Tallhill? A hat!? A scarf!? By Salazar a pair of boots!?"

She threw a large towel over him before bombarding the young blonde with a myriad of different spells. The magic zapped at his freezing body uncomfortably, causing his red fingers to twitch and hair to stand on end. "Up up! On the bed you go!"

He allowed her to manhandle him fully onto the surface. Only once his head hit the pillow did he start to feel the exhaustion settle over him. A second after he realized just how cold he was a bound of intense heat rippled across his body making him shiver. He cracked an eye open to see Pomfrey looming over him with her wand pointed in his direction, the tip of the stick alight with a deep orange glow like a dim fireplace. Then she flickered the stick and the wetness started seeping off his clothes, face and hair. Beads of water rolling off as if he were made of glass.

"Now let me get a look at that ankle and those bruises..." He heard her mutter, feeling his slippers slipped off his blistered feet.

Healing magic was truly wonderful. The witch prodded at the injury for maybe a minute before muttering a couple latin sounding incantations. After that followed a sharp pain before the ache faded completely, leaving behind only a faint tick in the joint. He looked down blearily, the skin was still bruised but only faintly purple, mostly yellow.

Acher received two potions while the witched worked on the bruises on his ribcage and hips. One was small, the vial dark and smooth, nice to the touch. The brew itself however was terribly bitter and uncomfortably sweet, leaving a thin layer of residue on his teeth. The label on the bottle was blank, faded with time. The wizard huffed before moving onto the next one.

The vial in the second was square and sheer like a whiskey glass, the potion inside tasted more like water than anything else though it did have a curious aftertaste of some kind of root vegetable. He turned it in his hands and read the label "Fever Wash. 1/3 steep root 2/3 alkaline water"

The blonde frowned "I don't have a fever..."

The witch above him huffed, rolling his sweater back down. "Yes, and I'm Rowena Ravenclaw. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you..." He muttered.

Pomfrey huffed before snatching the blanket from the end of the mattress and laying it over his body.

He tiredly put the potion back onto the nightstand before maneuvering over to his side and cocooning himself in the white covers. He could hear the sound of the witch's tired muttering move further and further down the room along with the clipped sound of her low heels clicking against the stone ground. The doors to her office creaked open and then closed, submerging the infirmary in complete silence, undermined only by the muted sound of snow patting against the large windows. Wind lightly rattling the old metal frames.

Acher didn't know when exactly he fell asleep. It was the sort of slumber you only really experience when sick, a pleasurable yet deeply uncomfortable experience. His head throbbed and skin tingled, his face felt hot yet the rest of his body was cold and numb. If not for the blanket he feared his toes would frost over and fall off.

He awoke sometime in the middle of the night, when the darkness outside was thick and brittle, the moon lost among the heavy clouds submerging the world in seemingly eternal blackness. The candle on his nightstand shone a deep orange light, flickering back and forth as if tugged by an unseen wind. Acher groaned, digging the pads of his fingers into the corner of his eyes to regain a sliver of his vision.

He heard the sound of metal screeching against metal and a curtain next to his bed he did not previously register was there was tugged halfway open.

In his stupor the blonde had to blink a couple times to make sure he was not hallucinating. A face, pale and thin peaked at him from the other bed.

"Hello...?" Acher greeted unsurely, his voice low and dry.

"You're awake." The other boy stated. "The ulbogs got you good. I thought you would not wake up."

"I'm sorry?" Acher asked, raining himself on his elbows to try to look at the other wizard properly.

"The ulbogs." The stranger repeated. "They were all over you, crawling on your head and legs while you slept. Must've been horrible. I'm sorry I could do anything about it. I tried to shoo them off but they just laughed at me."

Acher squinted. The boy was about the same age him, pale as a ghost and with hair so light in the bloom of the candle they looked almost the same color as his face. His eyes were a purple-bluish hue, slightly crossed towards the middle as if he was perpetually trying to look at his own nose, a feather of white eyelashes pulled across them like a veil.

Tallhill smacked his dry lips a couple times before extending his hand out. "Acher Tallhill." It's always polite to introduce yourself first.

"Xenophilius Lovegood." The other boy shook it lightly. His hand was positively freezing, colder than even Acher's despite him being the one to nearly experience hipotermia a couple hours ago.

Acher sighed and flopped onto his back, gazing at the ceiling which at this point in the night was but a vague outline in the darkness. "So what's this about ulbogs?"

"They are small, snail like creatures, but really fast and without shells." Xenophilius whispered.

The blonde squinted "Like...slugs?"

"Yes." He nodded. "They make you feel terrible though, and their laugh is really annoying."

Acher burrowed further into the blanket, pulling it up to his chin. "Have they ever made you feel bad?"

"Many times..." The pale boy confessed.

When silence fell, another question crawled up Acher's throat. "Why are you here anyway?"

"I fell."

"Huh." He hummed "Were you outside as well? Slipped and all?" The blonde tilt his head back to the other, meeting those milky eyes.

"Oh no no." Xenophilius shook his head. "I climbed one of the metal armours in the hallway and missed a step when I was about to reach the shoulder."

Acher's jaw fell. "Why were you even climbing that?"

The other cast his gaze onto the flame, face grim. "I was chased by a gargag, those things are fast." He whispered.

"What on earth is a gargag??" The blonde looked around as if the creature would suddenly appear next to him. He honestly could not tell whether he was actually having the conversation or was in the midst of some strange, fever induced dream. He half expected Dumbledore to just spawn next to him and start tap dancing, it certainly would not make everything any less weird. Maybe if he thought about it enough he'd start floating like it sometimes happens when lucid dreaming.

"Well, it's a creature about this big?" The boy motioned with his fingers in a vague shape of an oval "Furry and skinny, it slips between your fingers like water. Taunts you constantly with its incessant yowling."

"Scary." Acher mumbled before, as if on command, a loud meowing suddenly echoed through the dark room.

"Gargag!" Xenophilius whisper-yelled, springing onto his knees on top of the bed and snatching his wand from underneath the hospital pillow.

"Struhanka?" Acher asked, gazing around at the layered darkness. He took the candle off the nightstand and raised it high into the air. The light spilled across the bed and the stone ground. There in the shadows an imprint of white darted through the blackness, hopped onto the metal frame of his bed with skilled paws and with another loud, dramatic meow skittered across the white covers towards him. "It really is you." Tallhill sighed. The cat in question quickly found perch on his lap, bending her liquid like body into an arch she rubbed it along the expanse of his torso, pushing her tiny feline face into his sternum.

"I'm sorry I left you for so long." The wizard apologized, putting back the candle and petting the cat along her back where she arched her butt forward towards the touch. She meowed as if wounded, spilling crocodile tears into his sweater. In order to pacify the spoiled creature Acher began massaging the pads of his fingers behind the little monster's ears, exactly where she liked it most.

"That's Struhanka-" the blonde introduced turning to the other boy only to see the wizard in question still kneeling on his bed, wand clutched in his palm, eyeing the cat on his lap distrustfully. Acher cleared his throat. "It's just my cat really."

"I do not trust it." Hissed Xenophilius. "That thing jumped on me like a ghostly spider and bit at my legs. It's a gargag I tell you."

The blonde frowned turning to the animal in his lap. "Did you really?" He asked. To that the feline pulled her face away from his sweater and gazed at the other boy. Her pupils dilated, whiskers bristling.

"See." He whisper-yelled. "That thing is not a cat but a nasty gargag."

Struhanka hissed and Xenophilius flinched back with a strangled yelp.

"Hey hey hey." Acher tutted, grabbing the cats head and turning the moody creature towards him. She looked more like an otter when he did that, her ears pulled back and eyes big like a that of a fish. "Why are you like this hm? You can't just go around biting people while I'm away, that's not nice at all." Struhanka replied with an innocent high pitched meow, showing her big, wet, purple eyes. Acher gazed into those violet pools for a couple seconds before his resolve melted like wax. "Who's a good kitty~" he whispered, petting the space between the cats eyes with his thumb and rubbing at the soft pink skin of her nose. The dramatic little monster leaned right into the touch.

"Don't encourage it-" Xenophilius protested "It's clearly trying to convince you it's innocent. I know a nasty creature of the night when I see one."

Acher pursed his lips in thought "Did you do something that would provoke her?"

"No." The pale wizard denied. "I was just leaving the owlery."

Hm, had she attacked him because she smelled bird all over him? But that couldn't be correct since Acher smelled like bird all of the time. He sometimes had feathers just sitting in his hair and that did not seem to bother her whatsoever.

"What were you doing there exactly?"

Lovegood squinted. "Feeding my owl, she just came back after delivering my letters..."

Acher sighed, already suspecting where this was about to go "Do you have any more of those owl treats with you?"

Confused, Xenophilius reached into his pocket and took out a handful of small, round treats. Instantly, Struhanka leapt off Acher's lap and went straight for the food with a loud predatory yowl. Lovegood, the poor boy, screamed in fear like a man attacked by a great beast as the cat attached herself onto his robes with a row of sharp claws and bit straight into his hand in a clumsy attempt at catching her pray.

"Oh Struhanka." Acher sighed, gazing at the mayhem in front of him with detachment worthy of a monk "You damn glutton..."

It was a real paint to explain everything to poor disheveled Pomfrey that came running in in her nightgown not a second later.

Chapter Text

The winter slowly subsided in its intensity yet it still clung to the earth, keeping a layer of hard snow frozen against it and around the dark branches of the leafless trees. Rolling rows of misty clouds spread along the sky, keeping the sun at bay yet allowing some of its warmth to peak through. Still once in a while, a bound of freezing air would whip across the silent landscape and remind everyone that it was still in fact winter.

Acher was once against perched on top of the sizable rock at the outskirts of Hogwarts. A paper bag of marmalade cookies nursed in his arms as the blonde slowly made his way through the sweet treat, savoring ever bite. It was a present for his birthday from Miss Pines, a lovely one too. He didn't know he liked apricot as much as he did.

He was now twelve years old.

Tentatively the boy fished out another cookie from the bag and took a sizable bite. His eagle eyes were trained onto the distance, at the ice capped mountain grazing the grey skies just above the dark line of the trees.

It was once again hard for him to stay at Hogwarts after all the students returned from their holiday break. So he resigned himself to staying outside as much as possible, even if the weather was still freezing and the ground covered in snow. Nothing that a good pair of sturdy boots and a layered woolen hat couldn't fix.

Acher flickered cookie crumbs from his gloves and sniffed absentmindedly. The past two months had been rather uneventful, just an endless streak of classes and homework. In the meantime he had more time to focus on his plasma based abilities and despite his growing control over the element he couldn't help but feel frustrated at how much his circumstances limited him. It was increasingly more dangerous to practice in a regular classroom, all the wooden furniture, the floors, the reappearing cobwebs and other bottled trinkets that were easily ignitable or even explosive. It all spelled danger when handling any fire bigger in height than 30 centimeters.

The cookie scrunched between his molars, soft jam spreading over his tongue.

Hm. How frustrating.

Acher didn't do well when caught in situations such as this. He was not very good with puzzles or problem solving. The blonde prefered to brute force his way through most challenges, not that subtlety was lost on him, he simply did not overthink things and trusted his bare instincts most of the time. But this, this was tricky. He needed a place, not the outside, not the sewers and not an abandoned classroom. Somewhere his fire would be allowed to cause mayhem, somewhere he could turn it into a red inferno...

A screech caught Acher off guard, thin and bird like, panicked too. The boy hopped down from the stone and looked up at the sky, trying to figure out where it was coming from. In the shadow of the grey clouds a faint silhouette of something distinctly red was pummeling towards him at high speeds. Acher, completely caught off guard and at loss of what to do simply reached his hands out to catch it.

A couple seconds more and the object collided with his ribcage in a flurry of red feathers. Tallhill quickly wrapped his hands around the unannounced visitor, hugging it close to his chest as it wriggled around in sheer panic.

"Ugh- I'm alive, by Merlin!" The red feathered creature, which he just realized was in fact a bird, exclaimed. He pushed his head out from underneath Achers arm and looked up with wide, gold ringed eyes.

"Fawkes?" Acher asked, dumbfounded. It was indeed him. Dumbledores familiar looked way older than he was previously, no longer a chick he grew into a young, powerful bird and was evidently still growing.

"Oh it is you!" Fawkes replied "And you know Syrinxspeak!" He bristled his feathers proudly. "I had a hunch."

The blonde stared down at the creature tangled in his arms in both shock and interest "So that's what it's called..." He whispered before adding: "How did you know I could speak to birds? I'm pretty sure I did not say anything when we first met."

Fawkes was already opening his beak in a reply before previously innocuous tremors overwhelmed his body. "Ah- I apologize. This weather is still a bit too cold for me-"

"Is this why you fell out of the sky like that?" Acher questioned and the bird despite his vastly limited facial expressions somehow managed to look profoundly embarrassed.

"I'm still growing! Admittedly I should have thought a bit more before going for a flight and-AAAGH!" The phoenix screeched as Tallhill opened up his jacket and stuffed the bird inside, instantly zipping it up afterward. "YOU BEAST, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" Fawkes screeched from underneath the layer of clothing.

"You're cold." Acher stated

"LET ME OUT THIS INSTANT!"

"I don't think I will." The boy shook his head but let down a zipper a bit anyway, allowing the bird to pop his head out.

"Just use a warming charm!" Fawkes seethed, his boney toes wriggling around inside of Achers jacket.

The blonde frowned. "I don't know how to do that though."

The red creature sighed in his prison, throwing his long neck back in exasperbatiom. "Do they teach nothing to first years nowadays?"

Achers eyebrows creased. Raising his hand the boy flickered on a long flame, deep orange and warm it immidiately provided a steady source of sultry heat. "What about this?" He asked.

Impressed, the birds eyes sparkled as he gazed at Tallhills creation, assessing the nugget of plasma with a curious tilt of the head. "...Impressive." he crooned, much calmer than before. "Wandless too?"

"Of course." The blonde scoffed, moving the flame back and forth through the air with his hand.

"That's...really impressive actually." The magical animal noted and looked back at Acher straight on. "Who taught you that?"

"I taught myself." He stated, matter of factly. Before he could stop himself that bit of frustration he had been chewing on previously slipped out. "I could be better with it... If only I had a good place to practice it." The blonde murmured, a bit of a whine slipping into his voice.

Fawkes looked at him frazzled. "Why not go for the Room of Requirement then? That's always a good spot for dangerous activities."

Acher blanched and for a second simply stood there staring at the bird in his arms with an empty expression, his mind running a million miles per hour. Then he reached up and slapped himself on the forehead which promptly startled Fawkes who gazed at him with an open beak as if he had gone mad.

He...completely forgot about this.

Oh how forgetful he could possibly be to completely erase from his memories one of the most important places at Hogwarts. A room that could turn into any space a wixen might want, completely isolated from other students, as secretive as a room can possibly be. Saliva pulled inside the blondes mouth just thinking about what kind of things he would be able to do in a space like that.

"Um, are you okay young hatchling?" He was pulled out of his thoughts by Fawkes who reached out an unsure wing and tapped the edges of his red feathers on the blondes face.

"I'm fine..." He stated "More than fine in fact." This did not seem to pacify the bird but the blonde did not give him time to state his doubts "Where can I find this Room Of Requirement?"

"On the seventh floor, left hallway." Fawkes replied "You just need to think really loudly about wanting a room and it should appear in no time."

The boy whirled around, grabbed his bag off the stone behind him and started marching back to the castle with quick steps. Just the concept of that enchanted room send his mind spiraling into wildly different directions. It was everything he could ever wish for. He ran through the Hogwarts hallways like the devil himself was nipping at his heels, weaving through groups of other students as if he were an overly determined mouse trapped in a maze. He could vaguely hear Fawkes whining underneath his clothes, cussing him out probably but he still did not leave his confines, presumably too embarrassed to crawl out of a first years jacket in front of everyone.

His foot bounced impatiently as he waited for the staircases to align themselves before he sprinted up them, ignoring the various offended tuts from the portraits, advising him to slow down. What could they know? What could those snobbish, pastel and oil on canvas pricks know about what he was going through? They too, would run with joy when presented with such an opportunity, he knew it.

Fourth floor, fifth floor, Acher raced through another hallway, weaving between a group of sixth years. And then as if a deer caught in headlights he was suddenly forced to freeze completely in his tracks when he almost collided with a body that, as if a ghost, seemingly spawned in front of him out of nowhere.

"Oh!" They exclaimed and took a step back.

Acher, distracted and a little dizzy stood there for a solid three seconds simply blinking slowly before he realized it was, in fact someone he actually knew.

"Meadowes." The blonde huffed.

It was indeed her. It felt as if it had been ages since they've last seen each other on the train. She looked almost the same, if a bit frazzled from almost walking straight into him, clinging a stack of books to her chest like a lifeline. Only her dark hair was twisted into a different style than last time, long thin braids that stuck close to the scalp and descended at the back. He noted that the Gryffindor colors of her uniform did suit her quite a bit.

"Oh, um Tallhill!" Dorcas nodded, rearranging the textbooks in her hands. "Ah it's been a very long time."

The wizard nodded slowly, gazing behind the girl into the hallway. "It has been indeed." He just began to shuffle a bit sideways trying to sidestep her. "Well I need to-"

"How's Slytherin?" Dorcas inquired, curiosity alight in her voice.

The blonde pursed his lips, tapping his foot on the ground impatiently. "It's been great." He answered flippantly. "All dark murky waters, catacombs, you know the deal."

"Oh." She hummed again. "That does sound...great?"

"It is." He nodded. "Now if you'll-"

"You know." She continued. "There have been some rumours going around, they've even reached Gryffindor, of a new Slytherin being quite the troublemaker. Picking fights with other students and what not."

To that he simply frowned gazing at the girl in mild confusion. "...okay? Good luck to them I guess." Acher shrugged, "Anyways I'm quite busy-"

A sudden offended squak rumbled through Achers jacket. The boy reached for it in panic, clamping his hand over the birds mouth through his clothes.

Dorcas gazed at him in both surprise and suspicion. "Um...what was that?" She pointed at his torso.

"That..." The boy assured. "Was a hiccup. My hiccup."

She looked at him as if he thought she was stupid and huffed "I know what you sound like Tallhill and I know that did not come from you."

The boy pursed his lips, his frown deepening before he wordlessly sidestepped the girl and started once again running down the hallway.

"Tallhill!" Dorcas yelled behind him but the blonde was no longer listening.

The way up felt like a blur, the sound of his steps muddled together in his ears into a frantic orchestra comprised only of desperate, heavy drums. Somewhere along with that thunder of noise he heard his own tired breathing yet only once he stopped did that exhaustion catch up with him. He gasped for air, leaning onto a nearby wall as he breathed in and out, his lungs burning, the soles of his feet alight with pain.

After what felt like an hour of simply regaining his breath the boy straightened, swallowed and opened his eyes tiredly.

The tall arches of the seventh floor greeted him, dark stone ceiling and a wide, rocky pathway illuminated with torches and the bleary light of faraway windows that climbed the walls down the hall. Acher squeezed his eyes shut, bitter frustration welling in his throat like acid. It was the seventh floor, but where on earth is the room? Why is it not here? He needs it now, not when the damn thing decides to show up-

Something cold suddenly slid across his palm that was still placed onto the wall. Acher opened his eyes, gazing at his hand in shock as a black line of steel welled out of the wall, brushing against the boys skin. The wizard scrambled backward, cranking his head back he watched as the black stripes coalesced, swirling and sinking into one another to form a wide archway. Once the last line sunk into the ground at the very bottom there was an audible click and the door before him settled into existence.

"Fascinating." Acher whispered with pure awe in his voice before eagerly putting his hands on the door and pushing them open. They were heavy, but the hinges did not resist.

What greeted him was something akin to a ballroom. It was very wide, with a tall, beautiful ceiling made out of baby blue marble and a dark blue floor, comprised of large, thin tiles. The air was crisp but warm, grounds illuminated by a strange, rectangular chandelier that hung high above him.

Acher turned round in circles as he walked further into the room, raking his eyes over every detail, the doors closing behind him. He felt like some prince in a fairytale, the low lights of the chandelier reflected off of the many pearls and small gems that constructed its whole, sending a multicolored maze of light out to spread over the walls and reflect in the flooring. A subtle rainbow halo coalescing around it.

He looked down, the thin tiles glistened as if brand new, each one holding an insignia of some strange, swirling pattern burned a darker blue into the stone. In some places it looked like a tree and in some a bird. When he came close enough he could see his own reflection within the polished surface of each individual tile.

"This is..." Acher muttered, at a loss for words.

An offended squak cut off his elated thoughts as Fawkes freed himself from his jacket by wriggling his body through the open bottom. "By Merlin!" The phoenix gasped, twisting around on the floor in a mess of his own feathers. "I can finally breathe!" Dumbledores familiar sighed, throwing his head back.

"Fawkes, are you seeing this?" The wizard questioned, his eyes trailing back to the chandelier to drink in the splendor.

"Hm." The creature hummed, back on two feet. He smoothed out the feathers on his back and arranged the smaller ones at the edges of his wings. "Yes stunning. Perhaps I would be able to appreciate it more if I hadn't almost been suffocated a minute prior."

Acher was no longer listening, instead he dropped his bookbag onto the ground and walked over to the other end of the room, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the massive, empty space. He placed his hand onto the wall, it was cold but once he extended his magic even a little past the barrier of his skin he could feel a life-like tinge of a strange, alien warmth.

"How does it work?" The blonde asked.

He could hear the magical animal behind him shuffle "Well it's easy, it gives you whatever kind of space you need. I'm assuming all of this unnecessary splendor is a result of your particular visual tastes." A snap of a beak followed, not unlike the click of a tongue. "Though I would not expect this from you, I'll admit."

Adapting to his needs, like a genie granting all his wishes.

Tallhill felt the metalic surface of his magical core ripple like an overenthusiastic parrot, preening under a good scratch to the side of its head.
He grabbed at it with vicious love and explosive excitement, a kid snatching their favorite toy with no concern over how hard they squeezed their fingers around it.

The wizard whirled around and flung his hand as if pitching a softball, a sizzling explosion of concentrated magma already alight in his hand, cracking a thousand different shades of red and orange. It went flying across the room with a deafening screech, painting all the lapis blues around it ruby red and firework white, sending sparks flying in each direction. It collided right into a wooden dummy that was definitely not there when the blonde first entered the room, the object immidiately sucoming to the ravenous flames.

"Merlin's beard! Watch where you're flinging that thing!" Fawkes screeched hiding behind Achers abandoned bookbag, his head twisting back and forth between the blonde and the crumbling dummy as if he could not believe what he was seeing.

"Sorry." The wizard apologized yet his face was alight with a brilliant, eager smile without a drop of remorse in it.

Acher threw a couple smaller fireballs, skipping around in the ballroom like a sparrow in a field of dry leaves. Each projectile was met with its own dummy that appeared to blink into existence just as the ball was nearing the opposite wall. Bam, bam, bam. The mannequins reeled back, knocked off their wooden legs they twirled in the air before falling onto the floor, smashing against the tiles in a black lined burst of fire and splinters.

The blonde laughed, the sound thick and foreign in his throat yet delightfully true. He extended his hands, alight in brilliant orange and white, heat dripping off of his digits. The fire danced around him, danced with him. It swirled, burst and popped, turning orange, red and blue. At some point he lost his jacket, the cotton lined fabric too hot to keep on. He felt the flames lick at his arms, leaving his skin red and tender, spots of black streaking his vision where the inferno around him shone that much brighter and seared his vision. The magic core lodged within the wizard became a pool of concentrated magma that flowed through his body like lava within the spiraling cracks of an erupted volcano.

Acher laughed and laughed and laughed, up until he tripped over his own feet and fell onto the tiled floor. The magic around him dispersing like a freshly blown glass bubble, still orange from the heat.

Silence fell over the empty space as Tallhill breathed deeply, exhaustion catching up with his weary body. His skin was covered in sweat, face flushed and arms red, thin streaks of silver steam still rising from his body. The metal sphere in his stomach was now considerably smaller and ached like an overexerted muscle. His entire body was hurting, head pounding a dull pain.

Yet nonetheless he turned his face to the side to gaze at the red feathered bird still perched next to his abandoned bag. The creature was giving him a weary look.

"Very nice display..." Fawkes admitted. "Though I would appreciate it if next time you did not try to burn me into a crisp in the process."

And despite his aching muscles Acher could not do anything but throw his head back again and laugh.

[...]

He trained ever day and if he couldn't he thought about doing so obsessively. The margines of his class books became mazes of theories, tiny spread sheets and numbers. Acher had never written the word fire more in his life but now it was a near constant in his brain. His fingers had to be wrapped in gauze and thick bandaids due to the consonant blisters and inflammations marring his skin from the hours of exercise.

In addition to this he also noticed that his magic was slowly gaining a magnetic like pull whenever it came close to a flame. The fire sizzling on his night candle unconsciously bent itself towards him whenever his hand came close.

It was so cool.

He tested how tall he can make the fire, then how short. How big, how small. How cool can it be before it fizzles out and just how hot can it get. That last question was answered in a rather unpleasant way. He got to an icy, scorching white flame that flickered wildly from side to side before the smell of his own skin being burned cut the experiment short. Thankfully it was merely his right palm and since he could write with both but preferred his left he could afford to leave it out of commission while it healed. Left him with a rather interesting scar though, spreading through the middle of his palm the pigment of his skin was left a discolored peachy white in a mangled snowflake like shape.

As time went by he got more and more creative with his craft, after all you can't stand around making fireballs forever. He started with what he knew. Classic shapes like squares and circles followed by more complicated forms, small snakes made out of orange flame, tiny red bees, a very poorly made replica of his own face. His favorite was the blue butterflies, they were enchantingly beautiful but they required so much heat he couldn't support them for more than a minute before his own exhaustion extinguished the poor insects.

By the time spring rolled by fire was no longer just a mere tool to him but an extension of himself. It still burned and it still stung but pain is a part of life and Acher refused to cut off a limb simply because it ached.

With the slow arrival of spring the world around Hogwarts bloomed a vibrant green, lighting the dreary, dark walls of the castle a muted brown and bluish gray of the clear skies.

Before he knew it the end of the school year arrived and with it his first time at the magic school of witchcraft and wizardry came to a close.

On his last day, in the night hours before the morning of his departure Acher managed to create a firey red replica of Fawkes and made the flaming bird soar through The Room of Requirement with a piercing screech of a thousand smoldered coals. The birds chest at the nexus of its heart blinding white like a supernova and hot like an inferno. It painted the crystal blue walls a scorching sunset.

Acher found himself gazing into a sun he himself had created.

[...]

Stepping off of the Hogwarts express the small wizard found himself looking around at the gaggle of kids and adults teeming on the train platform. He searched slowly, one face after another and then came to a rather embarrassing realization that his mother could not possibly be there, she was after all a muggle. So the boy grabbed his luggage and headed outside of the platform, through the hidden entrance.

A couple steps and he was back in London, an impressive muggle train station stretching around him, regular people mingling about.

Acher walked over to the nearest bench and sat upon it, not really knowing what to do with his hands he pushed them into his pockets and waited.

Ten minutes passed, he pulled out a book, twenty minutes, thirty minutes. An older gentleman came over to ask whether he was okay, the blonde nodded mutely. Forty minutes, he played with Struhanka, though the beast was too tired to entertain him for long and simply curled up in her cat carrier, ignoring him completely. Fifty minutes. An hour.

The blonde snapped his book shut and looked around once again, finding only a couple people.

His mother did not come to pick him up.

A startling realization though not particularly surprising if examined for even a little bit longer. Well, no worries. He could get home by himself, it was not an issue. Acher was far from a child despite his looks and he could work out what a map says just fine. He was already in a train station after all.

So he bought a ticket. It was easier than it probably should have been but given this was the seventies the sight of some kid buying himself a train trip was probably not that worrying. Luckily he only had to wait some twenty minutes before his train arrived and he got to board the thing with a moderate number of other passengers. This one was not segregated into compartments, the seats were instead mounted in spacious rows, some of them having each other in two pairs, which was something Acher was more than used to.

He sat down down and pulled out one of his textbooks. Hogwarts barred him from dressing like a wizard and performing spells but they never said anything about not reading magic related material. Besides he kept the thing flipped onto the very last page where a couple bare papers were left. Well, they used to be bare. Now they contained a whole slue of tiny drawings and thoughts, scribbled in thin pencil, nearly illegible to the average person. Luckily Achers eyes were always sharper than average so he had no problem in distinguishing between words and letters.

The blonde pulled out said pencil, a tiny numb in his hand and began to write again. He needed to finish his notes regarding the phoenix he managed to conjure. With careful movements the boy outlined the shape of the bird at the margines of the book.

Someone suddenly sat down heavily in the chair opposite to him. He lift his eyes to find a presumably muggle girl, about his age. She had some unknown to him school uniform on, and a heavy looking suitcase between her calves set on the floor. Huh, most likely another student leaving school and going home for the summer break.

Acher, intrigued by this coincidence, was about to ask her what school she went to before the girl twist her body and yelled down the aisle "There's empty seats here mum!"

Soon enough a woman appeared, middle aged, stress lines pulling at her face yet a smile was still present on it. "Ah, yes good spot hun." She pat the girls head and sat next to her heavily. "Where's your father?"

The student shrugged her shoulders "Where's your husband?"

Clicking her tongue the older of the two replied "Don't get cocky with me now Anya."

Anya giggled.

Not a minute went by before an older man made himself comfortable on the seat next to Achers.

"Dad! Have you been smoking again!?" The girl hissed. "You reek!"

He did indeed smell very strongly of cigarettes. Achers nose wrinkled and he shuffled a bit away from the gentleman.

"Long day hun." The man exhales.

Their conversation blends together, the husband and wife prodding their young one for stories regarding her stay at school to which she happily responds by droaning on and on about who she met, how she met them and what they did together. Acher listens, intrigued, to the story of a muggle student who he doesn't even know, so mondaine and so familiar. It's...comforting in a way.

He lifts his gaze from his notes and looks at the two adults. Both of their gazes are fixated on their child, smiles gracing each face, soft and proud. A newspaper the husband brought with him is left folded on his lap, too engrossed in Anta's happy droning to have his eyes fall upon the letters. When she mentions her stellar English grade the man reaches out and ruffles the brown treeses upon her head, his grin as broad and radiant as hers.

Acher looks back down at his notes and finds his lips twisting ever so slightly as his mouth is filled with sudden bitterness.

[...]

Acher walked up the familiar stairs of his apartment complex. The air there is always slightly wet and cold, courtesy of how old the building is. Made out of dark brick with an old layer of nepeta green covering the inside, the paint peeling at the edges exposing the boney white layers of plaster that drop to the floor like snow.

The staircase is equally ancient, covered in so many shiny coats of paint and wood preservative it looks more like a nibbled on jawbreaker where the pain breaks apart.

The hallway light above him flickers as he makes it to the top floor. He gets out his keys and cautiously opens the door.

"Hello?" Acher speaks into the darkness that greets him. He huffs, shuffles inside and turns on the light.

Empty beer bottles litter the ground like mushrooms after rain. Tallhill stands there, stunned, gazing at the state of the house, the mess of everything, the piles of stuff and trash littering every corner, the shoes stewed all over the hallway along with other clothing. The blonde raises a hand and swipes a finger down the nearest shelf. The digit comes back lathered in thick dust.

Acher closes the door and absentmindedly let's out Struhanka who had begun to paw at the entrance to her carrier. The cat looks around, curiously sniffing the closest discarded bottle before her tiny, feline face pinches in disgust.

Taking off his shoes the wizard moves further into his apartment and enters the living room.

Isabella, his trainwreck of a mother is laying down, sprawled over the couch while the tv plays a muted broadcast of some unknown to him talkshow. Empty alcohol bottles litter the ground around the coffee table which is itself drowning underneath the weight of glass. Acher stares mutely at an overfilled ashtray propped at the edge of the table, some cigarette nubs having dripped to the wooden tiles underneath. The air reeks of tobacco, thick and ashy on his tongue.

A meow echoes through the room. The blonde turns to Struhanka who had followed him inside the room and was now sitting on the ground next to his feet, her purple eyes filled with discontent.

Acher sighed, and looked at the ceiling. The black chandelier mounted there had gained an additional two spiderwebs ever since he last saw it.

"I know my sweet." The blonde murmured. "I know."

Chapter Text

Isabella Tallhill is awoken bright and early on June 21st with a splash of cold water that hits her square in the face. She sputters, flailing her hands around with a cussword stuck at the end of her drowning lips. She sits up and coughs, pawing at her pasty face to get rid of the cold liquid burning her eyes. Blinking rapidly she looks up against the burning rays of the sun streaming through the wide open windows, the wind and bird song filling the air. When did she open those damn windows-?

"This one is for drinking." A familiar voice says, monotone and droopy. A glass is pushed into her hands, cold, but not too much so. Isabella blinks a couple more times, trying to push through the headache already drumming away at her skull and into a semblance consciousness.

Her son is standing next to the couch.

She blinks again, convinced to be looking at a hallucination.

"You're back." The woman realizes.

The other blonde nods. "That I am." Before walking away to the other edge of the room. She watches him, too stunned to move a muscle.

He had grown, as children tend to do, both up and slightly sideways, same way that she did at his age. His hair was longer, bound by an unfamiliar clip at the back. He was once again clad in an assortment of colorful clothing that clashed together horribly, all of it laid under a dirty apron.

She watched as he picked up a plastic bag filled with the remnants of her drinking spree, adding a few additional ones to the growing weight of the container. This reminded her of how parched she was and she soon guzzled down the entire glass that had been given to her, going slightly dizzy as she placed it on the coffee table in a familiar motion that was this time devoid of the characteristic burn of alcohol.

Acher silently picked up a broom and swept away the thickened dust that had accumulated under the hoard of bottles.

Isabella ran her tongue across the cracked surface of her bottom lip. "Not going to say anything?" She asked.

The boy stopped, the synthetic hairs of the brush falling to the ground with an audible thump as he set the broom onto the floor. Without turning around he inquired. "And what am I supposed to say?"

"Well, you moved out for a whole year to study magic at some academy, did you not?" She huffed. "Not gonna mention any of that?"

He still did not turn around, instead he looked down at the grime at his feet. "I'm busy."

"Busy?" She leaned against the backrest of the couch. "The bottles can be out away some other time, no need to take do all of it no-"

"What are you even saying!" Acher turned around, snarling. The anger on his face was so surprising Isabella flinched a little at the fire in his eyes. "What do you mean some other time!? The flat looks like a crack house, look what you've made of it!" He motioned wildly at the beer bottles stacked together on the ground.

"It can be fixed-" she argued.

"Oh! Because you're gonna do it!??" The young man seethed.

Something in his voice, something in the way his face twisted, the jut of his jaw, the crease of a strong eyebrow. For a second Isabella saw someone else's face completely overlap his own as if a ghost suddenly laid itself over her son. The hiss in his voice like that of a viper, accusatory and familiar.

She snarled too. "What's your problem kid? You disappear for god knows how long, come back out of nowhere and make demands as if you own the place-"

"I didn't disappear!" The blonde stomped his foot, grabbing at his hair in angry fistfuls. It was probably the most childish behaviour she ever saw him display, even as a baby. "I still live here! This is still my house! My house!"

My house. The ghost flickered in her vision, Aches angry screech twisting in Isabella's mind like an echo into the accusatory snarl of an older woman, a ghost long dead now alive in her son.

"Your house!?" She stood up, towering over her son with her lanky, dishevel figure. "Since when!? Since you disappeared like a ghost for a whole year? Didn't return for Christmas and all I got from you was that stupid note!?"

Acher stared at her with wide eyes, black as night yet darker, the eyes of a man she still recalls in her dreams. Not vividly, not anymore, too much time had passed since then, but she still remembers the color. Those eyes twist in anger again, and the bubble pops, she had never seen him angry, he was too gentle for that. Her son is different, apparently.

"Christmas!??" He seethed. "Is that what this is about? We never even celebrate Christmas!! Not once have I received a present-"

"So it's presents that you want! What? Had that Pines woman not given you enough over the years?" Isabella scoffed.

"This isn't about those! It's about family!" The blonde yelled.

"What about family!??"

Acher screeched, his face flushed, tugging at his hair as if he sought to split his skull in two. He turned to the side and kicked the nearest empty bottle as hard as he could. The object went flying and smashed against the opposite wall in a shower of broken glass.

Bird song ceased, only the sound of the smaller blonde breathing heavily remaining among the whizzing of the wind.

"THIS!" he seethed "THIS ABOUT FAMILY!" Then he quickly stomped out of the living room and down the hallway where the deafening sound of his bedroom doors shutting closed caught off his angry footsteps.

Isabella stood there, staring at the shimmering remains of the beer bottle scattered under the open window. The light of the sun rolled lazily over the glass, sending sparks reflecting off of each, even tiniest piece. She clenched her teeth and grabbed the broom before walking over to the pile. The blonde began to sweep, the sun stinging at her eyes as she stood in the bright square of light spilling through the open window.

With a tense jaw she looked outside at the small street before raising her eyes up to the blue sky, vibrant like a fresh and thick coat of paint. She exhaled deeply.

[...]

They did not speak to each other for the next week, too focused on trying to get the house back into its previous shape. Isabella helped him, begrudgingly but she did. At least for that he could be thankful for. After those few days of deep leaning every square inch of the space, getting rid of all the bottles and evicting the spiders (except for the ones in his room, he didn't mind) the house was more or less back to normal.

What was also back to normal was his and his mother's relationship. Meaning, they did not even look at one another.

After decluttering the bathroom Acher found himself taking a much needed break which in his case was a thorough shower. The boy sat at the edge of the porcelain tub, lathering shampoo through his hair.

He couldn't help but notice that despite being naked and wet top to bottom he wasn't very cold. This had been happening for the last couple days, he ran hot, definitely more than normal. The blonde huffed, gazing at his blurry reflection in the ceramic polish of the bathroom tiles arranged on the wall. Must be some of the extra weight he put on keeping him insulated. He pat the layer of fat on his stomach, huffing with quiet laughter.

Once he got down to rinsing however the usual temperature he preferred seemed to be too hot for him and left him feeling more sweaty than clean. Acher frowned and turned the shower head away from himself. Steam rose lazily from his body, skin flushed red as if he were in a sauna. He wiped his face to get rid of the droplets nesting in his eyelashes.

"Bloody hell." He whispered and grabbed at the shower knob, turning it over to the blue side. His skin was way too hot.

The cold water hit him with a burst of vapor. The blonde yelped, he felt like a heated pan put under a trail of water from the sink. He quickly turned off the showerhead, and leaned on the closest wall, dizzy from the change in temperature, then he slid down and sat at the bottom of the tub.

A little more present he noticed something he previously did not, too distracted by the rhythm of the water against his body. His magical core was ablaze. Indeed, the heat of it was concentrated within itself like an iron ingot smothered at the heart of a forge, white and red, sending bounds of magic through his body like sparks. His toes and fingers tingled as if asleep. Acher swallowed, the back of his throat dry despite the bath, he could taste what vaguely felt like acid reflux on his tongue, only hotter.

This was bad.

He reached for the knob again, this time turning on the faucet before plugging the bathtub drain. Water beat against his palms as he cupped handfuls of the cold liquid and poured it over his head, massaging the skin of his sternum with a grimace. Only once the bathtub filled enough to submerge him did he feel the temperature start to go down. His feet and hands grew numb in the icy water yet he exhaled anyway, finally content. Acher leaned his head against the back of the tub, his locks spread in the water around him like wet sand, fringe clinging to his forehead. He could physically feel his magic settle, the cold smothering the fire within him, beat by beat.

The wizard cracked open his eyes, looking down at his hands lift from the water. His gaze was drawn to the scar on his right palm, white and angry, the remnants of one of his most impressive flames. Achers expression soured, eyebrows knitting together.

The scars might just not be the only consequence of his recent studies after all.

He got out of the tub when his fingers turned so pruny he was closer to a raisin than a human. Quickly dressing himself back into his comfortable checkered pants and striped shirt the boy ran back to his room, passing only by an asleep Isabella who, thankfully, seemed to have only gone through one beer that day.

The window in his room was wide open. Besides the assortment of plants on the windowsill there was also a small tower of books with an old, ornate ashtray on top, now repurposed for keeping bird feed. A singular Sparrow was perched at the edge of it picking apart some sunflower seeds with an eager beak. He perked up once Acher entered the room.

"You look like a wet, wet hatchling!" Maly Rytier exclaimed, tilting his head, perhaps to asses the wizards soppingness at a better angle.

Rytier had resigned himself to spending most of his day with him instead of the other birds. Something about being "too old for the young and spry hatchlings mingling in the area" and "not being as full of energy as he was in his younger years". Honestly, Acher thought he was just being dramatic, as all old people were.

"That I am." The blonde grumbled, rubbing his towel at his unruly mane of hair. He sighed, dropping the material onto his bed before belly flopping onto it himself, the metal frame of it rattling against the postered up wall. "This is bad. I messed up."

"Welp, I knew your eagerness would one day cause you to plummet from the skies." Maly Rytier tweeted, digging through the shell of another seed.

Acher turned his head to gaze at the creature with a lone, dark eye. "I haven't even told you what happened." He murmured, voice thick with annoyance.

"I can tell something bad. That I can for sure!"

The blonde groaned and buried his face back into the pillows. "I finished my fire related experiments...you know, at Hogwarts and all."

"You told me, yes." The bird answered, cleaning the inside of his wing.

"I think I messed something up... My core is overheating on its own, and I haven't done any sort of magic at all recently." The boy flipped his body to lay on his back, eyes on the ceiling, unseeing. "It feels like my own magic is trying to boil me alive."

Maly Rytier watched him silently for a couple seconds before he flattered down from his perch and landed on the wizards chest. "Well you've been spewing fire like a dragon for the past year and now you've stopped completely. No wonder this is happening!"

Acher frowned. "You actually think that...like...my magic got used to the fire so now that's all it wants to do?"

"What I'm saying is that you've changed your own nature." Rytier replied sagely. "Humans are not made out of fire, and they aren't supposed to spit it, yet that's all you've been doing!"

"Hm." The wizards face pinched. He scratched absentmindedly at the skin of his collarbones, recounting the simmering heat spreading underneath the layers of flesh. This theory did not seem that unlikely. It could be that every magical core has a balance of elements within it which is why wixen are able to manipulate them at will. Putting too much pressure onto one could cause it to grow larger than the others and upset the delicate balance of temperatures within the core. Perhaps this wouldn't have happened if he started with something like earth or wind first, things less reliant on temperature and more on chemical compounds. "Maybe you are right Rytier..."

"Of course I'm right!" The bird sang, puffing his chest. Hopping closer the tiny creature looked into Achers eyes. "Whatever you are facing I'm sure you'll find a way to get through it hatchling. After all I've known you since you were but a tiny chick, pink and still moist from the egg!"

Acher cocked a brow "I don't remember ever hatching from anything." Yet he still pressed the bird to his cheek affectionately. The boy pursed his lips in thought as Rytier nuzzled his head against the skin of his cheek and his closed eyelid. "Would studying water next fix things then?"

"If on fire a good soak helps best." Acher took the birds reply as a 'yes'.

His face pinched then again, coming to a realization. "But I'm not at Hogwarts anymore..." He groaned loudly, slapping himself on the forehead. "Gosh this is so stupid! I can't even fix things because of these stupid laws... What am I meant to do next then? Stay in the bath all summer? Or perhaps I should crawl into the freezer, lay myself down next to the ice cream?" He gestured wildly, the bird watching him with amusement.

Rytier, ever so unbothered, splaid himself over half of his face as if melted onto it. "Now you see, you entered that academy to better yourself, yet they are the ones clipping your wings in the end, hatchling."

The boy scoffed. "Tell me about it."

They fell into a comfortable silence, listening to some drawl of the local birds outside where they nested in the nearest oak tree and underneath the tiled roof of the building. Acher watched the grey, overcast sky peek through the open window, the curtains around it swaying slowly along with the breeze. It was hot and humid, as it usually was in Britain around this time. Tallhill felt that heat twice over with the temperature of his core being the way it was.

He reached into his core, flinching slightly against its already rising temperature as if grazing a hot stovetop forgotten and left on for too long. Indeed the heat was slowly creeping back up. Red and eager it spread out into the branching coils like blood through veins.

Trying not to panic the wizard recalled his earlier theory. If fire could be found inside of him, then water was for sure somewhere in there as well.

It was hard to will anything out when stuck in the coils of his own body, bound within the sphere and all that connected it. Yet he knew he could not leave, not too eager to trigger any sort of alarm the ministry might have for underage magic usage. So he stayed within the playing field.

Acher, despite the oppressive heat, thought of water, deep, blue as lapis yet clear as glass. He thought of the cold, rolling, smooth against his skin, the sun reflecting off of the clear ocean as he sift through the sand with his feet.

Yet the image of the sun, stark and white above the sea caused the metal sphere within his chest to jump like an over zealous puppy. The heat spiked, pushing hot sweat through his pores. He grit his teeth, swearing under his breath.

Tallhill felt the pearls of sweat at his temple roll down lower. His mind focused on the feeling of it, the smoothness of the droplets, the slow coolness they gathered as they went further towards his hairline. He swallowed, the sensation of his saliva clinging to the back of his dry, irritated throat was like an anchor. Despite himself he focused back on the sphere extending out parts of it towards his arms and legs and as far away from its blazing nexus where the temperature was the hottest. There, he grit his teeth and conjured, as vividly as he could, the images of water, rushing, spilling, dripping, beating like a drum against the side of a cliff, cold and angry.

Then he felt it, the very tips of the metalic object began to cool, like a teaspoon plucked out of a teacup and thrown into the sink. He spread the ends more, trying to fan out the heat.

Water. Water. His mind repeated. As if beckoned by the chant the edges of his power rippled, slowly pulling in and out of themselves like tiny waves.

Acher pulled more magic out of the core, slowly circling it through himself, one arm then the other, one leg and then the other. When the first small trickles returned back to the core to end the first cycle he couldn't help but hiss in pain as the scorching nexus was hit with the cool, watery energy. It hissed, screeched like coals and inflated like a bubble sure to burst. However further water soon pacified its outburst, not ceasing its flow until the entire nexus was wrapped with it, stifling the flames at their core.

The blonde exhaled deeply, opening his eyes. His face was covered in sweat, lips dry and muscles tingling from laying still too long.

"Now you're nice and cool hatchling." Rytier praised, somehow even more splaid on top of his face than before. "Told you you could do it."

Acher huffed an amused laugh. "Of course you did..." He picked up the creature who immidiately flapped his wings around, offended at the disturbance. The wizard curled on his side instead, bringing the bird below his chin so he could snuggle against his neck.

"I need a better nap." He admitted, closing his eyes again the wizard focused once more on the flow of water within himself. It rushed, dark and cool against his scorched insides, he felt it in his fingertips, in the tight space between his lid and eyeball, at the back of his throat and flowing down his spine. It extended to every follicle, every limb, ever cell.

It was within him, around him and him.

[...]

Despite solving the temperature issue Acher was still rather rudely limited in his endeavours. The magic had to stay inside him, less he provokes some kind of alarm that will have his house raided by aurors by letting it free. He cycled it, over and over again through himself, cool and slippery it ran through his veins alongside blood. The wizard had to be careful not to push the temperature down too much to not die of hipothermia instead.

But that was the thing, he was bored. Plain and simple. Previously he could entertain himself by reading some regular literature, but now all he could think about was the drum of magic, kept prisoner beneath his skin.

So he resigned himself to doing menial tasks, having finished his summer homework about a week into July.

The blonde cut out a fragment of the magazine, a little woolen hat, pink with a dazzling blue bow. He frowned when the piece of paper stuck to his fingers where the small patches of leftover glue were still present on his skin.

"BACK YOU BEAST! BACK I SAY!" Maly Rytier called out, the flutter of his small wings trailing through Achers room as he landed on his chandelier.

Struhankas long meow followed, the feline hopping onto the nearby bookshelf, sitting atop it with her tail curled around her legs and eyes fixated on the bird. Her pupils were tiny black slits in pools of velvet purple, white whiskers bristled, high as antennas, ears pulled back.

"I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TRYING TO DO, AND I WILL NOT FALL FOR IT!" the sparrow declared, jumping from one dark leg of the lamp to the other like a tiny boxer. "I AM NOT SCARED OF YOU!"

The cat lunged then, throwing herself off of the high shelf with her claws extended, ready to devour Rytier whole.

The sparrow screeched, narrowly missing the approaching feline by dropping from the chandelier and pummeling straight into Achers mane of hair. The lamp rattling under Struhankas weight as the cat landed onto it, birdless and annoyed.

Tallhill sighed, shifting on his spot on the floor, he glued the hat onto a previously cut out picture of a cow. The spotty animal was already wearing several different types of shoes on her four hooves, also a rather fancy tie and a pair of oval sunglasses with a shiny gold frame. He had painted a background for her though quickly covered it with more cut outs, turns out he's not as good with watercolors as he thought. Huh, shame. So the background went from a father muddy looking hills to a strange collage of different city buildings and random slogans from newspapers.

Reaching back the wizard plucked the struggling bird from his hair, as swiftly as apple from a tree. Struhanka then dropped from the chandelier right next to Acher, her gaze zeroed in on the bird in his palm.

Acher sighed, gazing at the cat with his brow arched. "Why are you such a terror Struhanka? Don't I feed you enough already?" He tapped the creature on her tiny, lolled out pink tongue, causing her to suck it back in between her bat like canines. "Birds are friends, not food."

To protect him against the ravenous creature Acher pushed Rytier into his shirt then he pulled out another blank piece of paper and dunked his dirty paintbrush into the lukewarm water in a tiny pot next to the drawing. Maybe if he practiced his art skills he would be able to give that cow some actual grass to graze on.

Rytier poked his tiny head out of Achers collar to look at the cat now sitting in faux innocence next to Tallhill on one of his previously discarded drawings. Her tail swished languidly behind her yet her eyes were lazer focused on the bird.

"That beast is about to punce again. I know it." The sparrow hissed, which was a very interesting sound coming from a bird.

Painting a large green arch across the paper the boy gazed at the feline from the corner of his eye. She gave him her most innocent stare, not fooling anyone. He sighed and grabbed the cat who promptly yowled as he squished her between his arm and the floorboards where he rest belly first against the ground.

"The beast has been pacified." He nodded, applying a dark teal that bled across the canvas until the paper stuck to the wooden panels. "Hm, too much water." The boy scowled.

"You only brought it closer!" The bird yelped, hiding back into his shirt when Struhanka began sniffing at his collar.

The dark green trees clashed against the background horribly, mixing into the sky as if melting. Acher scowled, scrunched up the paper and threw it onto a nearby pile before putting the brush back into the basin where the dark green mixed into the already muddied water in a forest colored cloud. He huffed, setting his chin on folded hands, gazing out the window. It was raining, though very lightly, the droplets thin amongst the warm air of summer.

Struhanka meowed loudly, he gazed down at her. She had flipped herself onto her side, licking at her paw playfully.

The wizard sighed again.

After a few more minutes of silence Rytier poked his beak at the boys collarbones. "Are you going to lay around now?"

Acher scowled. "Feels like there is nothing else to do honestly."

The bird hummed and the cat watched him also, unused to seeing the blonde this languid. Tallhills dark eyes were trained on the thin storm passing through the open window and onto the sill, the water gleaming lightly like tiny sparks of light.

"Might try finding something in that magic box of yours." Rytier proposed.

"Magic box?"

"The one you take to that school of yours!"

"Huh." The blonde frowned and turned his head to gaze at the suitcase propped against his wardrobe. He had meant to take out all the unused clothing and put it back in there but he really just ended up dismembering the contents of his bag, leaving the thing half open and overflowing at the edges with pairs of socks and completed worksheets.

Hm, maybe there really was something he had forgotten about. Would not be the first time certainly.

The blonde picked himself up causing Rytier to tumble out of his shirt and onto the floor with a squak. He walked over to the suitcase and heaved the thing open. It spilled onto the floor in a colorful burst, books, clothes and other trinkets tumbling onto the wooden tiles.

Realizing he was hearing no sounds of a raging battle Acher glanced back at his two companions, only to see Struhanka sniffing the top of Rytiers head curiously, the tiny bird still as a rock, looking back at him with a panicked expression. The blonde gave him a thumbs up and returned to his trinkets.

Graded astronomy homework, a singular marble he found in the history classroom, the potions textbook, a squished cardboard box for an inkpot that was probably tumbling somewhere in his clothes, a pack of gum, still sealed. He threw the unimportant items onto the floor, making sure to give the potions book a good kick along with it. Halfway through he spot some kind of mark at the inside of the suitcase, a white indent in the shape of a circle etched into the layered wood at the bottom of the bag. Something flickered within his memory, yes, he remembers this rune, though not what it was for. He recalls it being a big selling point when he originally bought the case in Diagon Alley.

He placed his palm on the mark and gave a weak pulse of magic.

There was a click, then a weird straining noise that had him taking his hand away in caution before the bag spit out a broom into the air. The object went flying for a couple centimeters before falling right back down onto the pile of his clothes with a dull thump.

Acher stared at it in mute shock before taking the object in hand.

Oh. His broom. So that's what he had forgotten about.

Buying a broom was not a requirement yet the funds he had been given by Hogwarts were enough to cover the cost of one. Still, he could not actually use it to fly during the initial lessons. Something dumb about "everyone having an equal and fair start" and "modified brooms wreaking havoc". So he was stuck with the rather useless object, no way he could use it now after all. His own wand was kept in a drawer at his desk, the stubborn object writhing and rolling in anger at night, listless like a baby when not held by the blonde.

Acher gripped at the broom, squeezing the wood in his hands before he pushed his magic into the stick, searching within it absentmindedly. The tendrils his something and a forgotten menory from his first flying lesson came surging back. There it was! A crumple of magic, not unlike a twist of tattered cloth was shoved in a hollow space at the center of the object. The exact same as with the school brooms.

Something was definitely inside.

Acher whirled around to announce his discovery only to see Struhanka and Rytiers leaning over one of his discarded marbles. The feline was nudging at the ball with the tip of her paw, head cocked curiously while the bird eyed it closely, seemingly mesmerized with its dark blue color.

"I found something to do." The blonde stated and both animals jumped as if roused form a trance.

"Oh hatchling!" Rytier looked at the broom in his hands. "Uh- can't you use those little trinkets of yours outside of school?"

"I can't." The boy nodded, pushing away a wooden stool to place the flying apparatus on the woolen carpet underneath. "But that's not what's interesting. What really matters is the inside of this thing."

The bird fluttered over, settling at the top of his head to gaze at the broom from a high level. "Inside? Are you desperate enough to crack the egg to inspect the yolk? You can't make a chick if the egg is cracked you know?"

Acher shrugged, petting Struhanka who stalked over and tipped her body against his own, falling halfway into his lap. "I can try stitching it back together at Hogwarts, besides, I'm not gonna use it anyway."

"But flying hatchling! Flying!"

The blonde scoffed. "Broom flight is not real flight Rytiers. It's nothing more but a glorified elevator or an over zealous swing and one does not swim like a fish by getting on a boat."

That was his stance on it anyway. Honestly, using the object felt like he cheated his way into getting wings. The broom was nothing but a ploy to get him playing quidditch anyway, and he was not about to get himself involved in any kind of sport.

"Fake wings?" The sparrow inquired.

He nodded sagely. "Absolutely." What he failed to mention was that...honestly he just really wanted to check what was inside of that broom. It was an inherently foolish idea, gutting a brand new object for the sake of science. Acher however, had nearly incinerated himself for the sake of said science multiple times in the past. Sacrifices were nothing new to him, even when it came to his own skin.

Acher stood and made his way quickly to the kitchen where he retriever a rather sturdy, medium knife he only ever used to crack chicken bones for broth. Returning to his room he hovered over the broom like a surgeon, squinting at the slim object. "Where to put it...?" He murmured. "Oh to hells with it." The wizard stabbed the tip straight into the center as hard as he could.

The broom gave away under the steal, a horizontal crack bursting in the center of the thick wood, climbing upwards until it reached the very tip. Perhaps a tad too excited the blonde pulled the knife out and stuck both his thumbs into the incision. "Let's see..." He whispered and with great effort pulled the wood apart. The object strained in his hold but the cracked material soon gave in to his determined prying, popping open with a small burst of splinters.

There was nothing inside.

Acher felt like he was about to explode in a fiery inferno if anger and frustration. He gripped the splintered pieces, abused wood groaning in his hands.

Then something actually did catch his eye. In truth the handle was hollow, but on the curved insides of it, etched into the oak was a whole series of strange, blocky runes. The writing was not deep yet it had clearly been made with a surprising amount of care put into ever edge. It was not gibberish, that's for sure. It looked too intentional.

Startled, the boy extended out small tendrils of his magic only to find the strange, cloth like construct previously nestled within the handle no longer there. "It's gone!?" He exclaimed, palming around the object.

"What is?" The bird hopped onto his shoulder to get closer to the broom. Struhanka also padded over, sniffing at the object, her little pink nose twitching.

"The magic that I felt inside it's...it's gone." He whispered, dragging his thumb down a circular symbol near the crack.

"I would've expect that, you ripped the thing open like a vulture!"

The blonde huffed but then stalled himself. It could be true that the energy, whatever it was, depended on the broom being whole. That would mean that these symbols...

"They...are runes?" He whispered.

Acher had no idea how runes worked, he had not even grazed the subject up to that point, too busy with trying to understand other things. Of course, he had an inkling on how they might operate. That is, not unlike computer coding that has certain symbols be combined with others in order to create strings of commands or attributes. These commands are then assigned to a given program or in this case, an object.

Tallhill squint, inspecting each individual rune with careful consideration. A square-ish rune next to a twisty one, connected by a long flowing line down to another series of symbols was etched at the center of the left piece of wood. He thumbed at it, finger laced with thin tendrils of magic but he felt nothing.

The blonde pouted, scratching the back of his neck. "This is gonna need some experiments conducted." He heaved himself up and walked over to his cluttered desk. Pushing away the stacks of crayola, books and unfinished paper cutouts he took out a battered box of plasticine. Half of the little colorful bars were partially dried up at this point but some of them could still be salvageable. He took whichever ones still worked and knead them into one block of a muddy, grey-green color, it was about as large as those smaller versions of rubrics cubes with only four tiles each.

While kneading Acher looked over at Struhanka and Rytier only to find the two of them pushing around the blue marble, the bird trying to catch the thing in his beak while the cat pawed at it with interest. The bead rolled across the floor, mesmerizing both the animals with the small, sparkles embedded in the inside that reflected against the wooden tiles.

The blonde smiled lightly.

Acher rounded the broom again and sat down, leaning over the series of runes curiously. At first he pushed the symbols into the plasticine with his fingers but soon switched to the wooden end of a paintbrush as it was much smaller and more comfortable. He repeated the runes over and over on each side but they did not seem to do anything. He switched to a different row, copying those two. All the symbols were similar yet completely different to each other, clearly forming a separate alphabet. Some of them were arranged in circles while other in rows or squares connected with one another with thin lines that sometimes had additional runes etched next to them. It seemed that every element had more elements and even those elements were attached to more.

Minutes ticked by as the wizard hunched over his work, pushing in more runes just to erase them and write again. The plasticine became warm and plaint under his fingers, soft at the edges like wet dough, his fingerprints imprinted into the mass. At some point Struhanka trudged over and laid herself at the nest of his folded legs, purring loudly. Rytier also found himself a spot at the crevice of his neck and shoulder.

The day slowly turned into evening. Acher had to turn on an additional light, an old desk lamp. It buzzed quietly with a low hum of a thin electrical current, the sound distinct in the silence.

Tallhill stared at his creation, the small square etched top to bottom in swirling combining symbols. He tried to copy things one to one but had to improvise a lot when it came to the way certain symbols connected because of the shape of the object. Huh, maybe he should have recreated the slabs of wood in earnest. The orange light of the lamp pronounced the shadows of the runes deeper, as if ink was stuck in the shaped crevices. Acher turned it in his hand, watching the mute light shift across it.

The blonde reached towards his magical nexus, pulling energy through his arm and into his fingers where they escaped outwards to the cube.

He startled.

The runes sapped at the magic on their own like a magnet encountering shaved metal. He sat quietly, fascinated at the foreign feeling.

Then the drain stopped and for a few good seconds nothing happened before something slithered against the skin of his palms. Tattered and tangled, invisible strings of foreign magic emerged out of the plasticine and connected the runes across the object, layering themselves over top of it. It felt exactly like what was inside of the broom, if a bit more coarse and tangled.

Acher licked his dry lips and was going to put the object down before the cube suddenly stirred. It jerked into the air, escaping out of his grasp in a chopped motion as if pulled by a string.

It was flying!

The blonde gazed at it, slack jawed. It levitated upwards and then downwards in quick, imprecise movements. Elated, Acher was about to grasp it again before his little experiment shuddered suddenly, shrunk, then inflated to twice its size and popped like a balloon.

The pop was deafening, the explosion sending plasticine flying in every direction, splattering across the ground and causing his desk lamp to tumble and break its cheap, plastic hood, extinguishing its weak light. Struhanka jumped with a yowl, scurrying off across the room making Rytier tumble back into his shirt with a panicked squak.

Acher sighed, wiping the gunk off his face.

He thought he was more or less done with explosions after his fiery experiments came to an end.

That was apparently not going to be the case.

Chapter Text

The sultry mid August heat beat down on Achers back where the large, striped umbrella didn't cover, squeezing sweat out of his pores. He scratched his chin, the other hand poised on the cool glass of the refrigerator, staring at the assortment before him with a concentrated expression.

"Kid, you can't stand around here forever." The teen girl behind the stand reminded, her body slouched sideways as she twirled a piece of gum between her teeth and index finger.

"If I get the chocolate with the white sprinkles the sprinkles will get discolored as time goes on." The wizard murmured. "And If I get the strawberry with the brown sprinkles they will melt into the ice cream and make it look all muddy."

She sighed deeply, pushing the gum back between her molars. "How about you go for the chocolate with brown sprinkles then?"

He scowled. "I'd never pick the same color of sprinkles as the ice cream."

She rolled her eyes and he went back to brooding.

After another couple long seconds the wizard asked: "Do you have any mint chocolate chip?"

The girl gave him an unimpressed stare, motioning around with her hand to the three basic flavours the small stand had on display. He sighed and gave up. "I'll just have the plain strawberry then."

She ended up giving him quite the scoop, if only to get him away from the stand for as long as possible. It was nothing amazing, perhaps a bit too much cream and too little fruit but he did enjoy it. At least there were no chunks in the ice cream, just an occasional seed.

The streets of Salisbury were abuzz with ruckus, people mingling in and out of stores and homes, children running around with their parents trailing behind them lazily, too weighted down by the heat to even bother yelling.

Acher skipped through the sparse crowds and made his way down the familiar path towards the library. It was an older building, painted a dark black like color that lit a coarse green in the noon sun. He could see the rows of books through the tiny squares making up the large windows. The blonde took a hefty bite of his ice cream, walked up the short staircase to the building and entered.

He was instantly hit by a distinct and potent smell of old parchment. A couple people were already inside, filtering in and out of the small isles between bookshelves, paying him no mind. The wizard trotted over to the receptionist desk, occupied by a vaguely familiar woman, hunched over a thick book.

"Excuse me." He called out.

She raised her gaze at him and opened her mouth to say something before her eyes went comically large at the sight of the ice cream in his hand.

"You- you can't be here with that!" She hissed, standing up. "You'll get it all over the place- all the books they'll be ruined-"

"I'm just here to go to Diagon Alley." Acher stated.

This seemed to get her even more angry "You can't just!" The librarian went red in the face and looked around quickly. "Oh for Morganas-" the woman hissed before shuffling out from behind her desk.

He followed her deeper into the library and into the familiar backroom where a large fireplace was set up, a bowl of floopowder propped on the mantle place.

"Thanks!" The blonde wizard nodded and received an irritated scoff back. He shuffled into the fireplace and upon exclaiming: "Diagon Alley!" disappeared in a blur of green flames.

From there it was smooth sailing. He seeped back to reality on the other end of the connection, dusted himself off and exited out of the little cubicle that led directly to the alley. The place was moderately crowded and way cooler than Salisbury, a gentle breeze greeted him once he stepped onto the cobblestone pavement and looked around. Going from seeing regularly dressed humans to everyone around him wearing pointed hats and waving around wands and unknown artifacts was an interesting experience for sure. Not to mention all the animals crawling and flying around, the number of owls sitting at the edges of each roof definitely went above a ten, at least.

Acher finished his ice cream and made his way to a familiar store

The newest model of broom was displayed for passerbys to gawk at behind the large window next to the entrance. Acher peeked at it for a second before entering. He didn't stay for long though, getting too bored trying to read the attached placket that used way too many adjectives to describe just how fast the broom was. Inside the air was way too warm and the smell of wood coating emanated from each stand in waves. The light was also way too bright, unusual for the wizarding world.

A jovial young man greeted him at the counter. "Ah! Looking for a new broom are we? The old one broke already?" He laughed, flashing a full set of brilliant white teeth that were somehow even brighter than his blue eyes.

Acher nodded.

"I sure hope you scored some good points before it kicked the bucket!" He said "I remember at your age I used to go through at least two per semester!"

"Nah, I didn't score any points." The blonde shook his head.

"Oh?" The store clerk looked at him, surprised. "Bad game?"

"I don't play." The smaller wizard shook his head. "I dissected it to find out the contents and study the runes on the inside. Could I get a manuscript for them please?"

The broom maker stated at him for a couple seconds, simply gawking. "You did...what?"

"I dissected it?" Acher quirked a blonde eyebrow. "You know, cut it open." Getting no response the blonde shift on his feet impatiently. "Sooo...the manuscript?"

"Dissected...?" The man whispered, looking like a solider getting sudden war flashbacks.

Acher took out a piece of the object from the backpack he brought with him. It was the largest part of the wood, with the most runes. He placed it onto the counter and the man stared at it for a good few seconds I'm complete disbelief before picking it up.

"Swift Fly 50..." He whispered.

The blonde nodded slowly.

"The first batch of brooms I ever carved professionally..."

The smaller wizard looked around, unsure of what to do. There were no other patrons, which was surprising since the shop was usually crowded by children, just Achers luck. He did not even get a warning before the salesman started bawling, fat tears gushing out of his eyes as he hugged the object to his breast, wailing like a beast at the brink of death.

"OH SWIFTLY WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOUU! LOOK HOW THEY MANGLED YOU UNTIL THERE'S NOTHING LEFT BUT PIECES!!"

Acher pursed his lips. Seeing the man's cries only escalate as time went on he slowly backed away from the counter and out the door.

[...]

Remus knew isolation was bad for him, yet given the opportunity the ashy blonde would cut himself off from any friends or family simply out of the desire to submerge himself within his own thoughts. Even if those thoughts were dark and thorny. Because of this when he got a letter from James about two weeks into July Lupin still failed to reply to it well into August. He wanted to talk with James.

Yet he didn't.

It scared him a little, actually having friends his own age to which he could have conversation with. Because despite how good it made him feel even the briefest thought that they could possibly one day find out about his lycanthropy send him right back into the spiral of self doubt and loathing he had gotten so used to residing in.

So he stayed at home. Stewing away in his own misery only worsened by the summer heat. Well, at least up until his mother, in a rare show of assertiveness, encouraged him to leave the house and visit Diagon Alley. She pushed a couple coins into his hand and sent him on his way without listening to any of his protests.

That's how he found himself at the library. It had a considerably less expansive collection than the Hogwarts one yet still had a good stock of various genres. The library itself was two stories high with a charming little spiral staircase that lead to the upper floor and beautiful stain glass windows. It was quite dark inside, but somehow the light filtered in just right to provide enough exposure to read comfortably. Remus flipped through a couple interesting looking books, mostly working off of the beautifully bound covers. What could he say, he enjoyed a nice, gold lined spine and metal reinforced corners, even if the actual text inside was dreadfully boring.

Drawn by a thick, ornately decorated tome the boy found himself slipping into one of sections. It was a very well bound book, dressed in dark leather clipped in with silver studs. Remus pulled it out, huffing a little under it's considerable weight.

"A Tome Of Creatures. By A. T. Dragonheart" The title read in thin, silver font. A little image of a rabbit and a dragon pushed into the material cover with a silver thread right underneath the words. He pursed his lips, propped the book on the edge of the shelf and opened it.

He instantly understood why the book was so thick. The amount of creatures listed was astounding, grouped by continent and time with additional information crawling at the margines of each page as if the author could not help himself but squeeze it everywhere he could. Each one was also coupled with a drawing, sometimes multiple in order to show the differences in anatomy between sexes and stages of life. The images were not enchanted to move in order to prevent any confusion when observing, yet still they were mesmerizing.

He flicked between the Asian Pixies, South American Crawlers and European Monarch Dragons, tracing the pads of his fingers across the shallow welts of the letters and breathing in the subtle smell of old paper.

Lupin's cheerful cruise grinded to a sudden halt when the wizard flipped over to the last section of the tome. A thicker part, detailing the creatures spread worldwide.

"The Werewolf" The entry simply read and despite how loudly the bells in his head rang for him to stop the boy could not help himself.

With morbid fascination he gazed at the multistage drawing detailing the transformation of a lycanthrope. A man standing, then a man keeling over, hair spreading on his back, his face twisting, limbs elongating, before there was nothing left but a beast. The last stage had the wolf's head turned towards the viewer, a pair of amber eyes eerily highlighted in luminescent ink popping off of the page in a paralysing stare.

Remus's throat was dry. Did he really...look like that? He remembered very little from when he transformed, certainly less than he would have if he had not been repressing those memories for years on end now. Did his face really twist this way? His limbs snap and tug at the flesh around it in this horrifying matter? Logically he knew they did, he felt it every time after all. Still he had never actually seen it...

A sudden dull thump made the boy gasp and jump on his feet. He whipped his head to the side, heart beating wildly in his chest only to meet a pair of very dark and inert eyes.

A boy was standing next to him, his hand extended outwards to where he pushed a book back to its place on the shelf. He was pretty, with an oval face and a strong nose, molten blonde locks cascading from his head in thick curls down his shoulders and back. His choice of dress was...questionable. The eye-searing pink of his polo shirt clashed wildly with the dark orange shorts and blue sneakers. He looked like a pompous fairy wearing too much pixie dust.

Remus blinked dumbly, not saying anything, yet the stranger seemed to be more than okay with simply standing there and allowing him to stare.

Then the boys eyes dropped to the open book in Lupin's hands and instantly fear gripped the Gryffindor's heart like a vice.

"I-It's not-"

"Werewolves, cool." The other said.

Remus's brain short circuited."What?" He whispered.

"Werewolves." The blonde pointed at the title of the section, then down at the drawing. "Really cool, honestly. I remember in my preschool a lot of kids played by pretending to change into wolves."

Lupin sputtered, face flushing for no discernible reason. "T-that's absurd."

"I guess." The stranger shrugged. "It got banned pretty quickly though when one kid wouldn't stop howling during class. Plus it was pretty annoying to walk literally anywhere when half the school was running around on all fours."

Lupin found himself snorting "Like- Like muggle school? Muggle children pretending to be werewolves?"

The other nodded. Then he leaned over to look down at the page. He carried a distinct scent of old wax and something sticky sweet. "Hm, I think I like pixies more though."

"Pixies? Aren't Fairies more well liked though?"

The Slytherin huffed a quiet laugh and smiled to himself in a way that implied something Remus had no idea of. "I find them to be more troublesome actually."

The sandy haired boy gasped suddenly, recognizing that slight yet distinctive smile on the others face.

"You're from the flying lessons!" He pointed at the other blonde. "You fell from your broom."

The other nodded again with a strange expression.

"Why on earth would you do such a thing?"

"What can I say? I fell." The Slytherin shrugged.

Huffing, Remus gave him a knowing look. "We could all tell you did it purposefully. No offence but your acting skills leave things to be desired."

Lupin felt studied as the other gazed at him for a long couple seconds before answering with a rather brazen flip of his hand. "Like I said at the time, I wanted to know what was inside the broom."

"So really, you did all of that just to find out?" The lycanthrope smiled, closing the book in his hands. When the other confirmed it with another stoic nod Remus couldn't help but snort, stopping himself just in time from completely bursting out laughing in the middle of the library. "Did you find out?" He asked between short, quiet giggles.

"With some trial and error." The Slytherin nodded, the bob of his head sending light refracting from his golden mane.

"Oh?" Remus placed the creature tome back into its place. "And what was inside then?"

A light smile quirked the other's lips. "Runes."

"Runes?"

"Yes, etched right into the wood, turns out the hollow part is just a way to gain more space for the carver to put inscriptions into the handle." The Slytherins black eyes were sharp with wonder and an intimidating kind of hunger, one that, if he was being honest, was a little intimidating. The golden blonde turned back to the shelves. "I wanted to know what the runes meant by asking the broom maker but he...didn't cooperate."

"Oh well, there should be some rune textbooks around here." Lupin gazed at the shelves. "Are you sure about it though? I'm pretty sure runes is a complicated subject? It is about third or fourth year level?"

The Slytherin shrugged and began walking deeper into the library. "Why should I wait for something I can already have in front of me."

Not really knowing why the ashy blonde followed after the other into a different section and watched as he browsed through multiple tomes with curious eyes and fingers, thumbing his way across different spines. He had a certain brutish manner of doing everything that clashed wildly with his rather elegant appearance. His walk was lax, expression indifferent, seeing it Remus distantly wished he could be as unbothered as the Slytherin was. To have the confidence to seemingly do anything he desired in whatever manner preferable, uncaring of scrutiny.

The golden blonde pulled out a thin, brown book with a simple framing inscribed in numerous, tiny symbols. He assessed it for a second before smiling. "Bingo." Lupin had never seen a smile that strange before.

The other looked at him, dark eyes expectant. "Aren't you going to grab that book you were looking at earlier?"

"Oh, um-"

But the bronze skinned boy was already turning away and so Remus could do nothing but sputter and hurry back to retrieve it before he even realized what he was doing.

They ended up at a tiny section in the upper floor with two small tables and some chairs. Remus sat across the other boy and opened back up the hefty tome, for now focusing on the Asian part of it, not wanting to shuffle too far forward and do something stupid again.

Curiously the other boy pulled out a lump of some kind of clay, it was a greenish grey and muddy. He kneaded it with confident fingers as he read over the first few pages, skipping most of the longer paragraphs with blatant disinterest.

Remus swallowed and looked back down at his book, it was probably strange to stare so much, he didn't want to turn the other boy off. More than he probably had at this point by being a weird, nervous wreck. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, trying to focus back on whatever the text was saying about Chinese Dragon Eagles.

Minutes passed in deep silence as nobody else entered the higher floor. It was just the two of them. Lupin kept glancing up at the other boy, watching as his fingers worked their way across the piece of clay with familiar motions. He wondered whether he was a sculptor; whether he practiced some kind of art with those bony knuckled hands.

Then Remus's eyes caught something and he spoke before realizing how inappropriate it was: "Are you not the eldest child?"

"Huh?" The golden blonde looked up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"A-ah sorry! It's just I noticed you don't have an heirship ring- and um- I sort of assumed-"

The taller boy pursed his lips. "I'm muggleborn, why would I have a ring?"

Remus stopped, gawking at the other. "Really? I mean I have heard rumors that you were but- I don't know I never really believed it."

"Rumors?"

"When you thought that upper year, um, Bellatrix I believe?" Lupin scratched his head "A lot of people debated whether you were from any notable family. Some people said you were totally a muggleborn. I guess that's...true?"

The Slytherin sighed before nodding, his eyes trailing back to his book.

"But then- How are you in Slytherin? That sounds like a nightmare! Don't they discriminate against you? I've heard it's almost impossible to exist there even as a half blood?"

"Don't care, I just punch them." The other replied, thumbing away at the margins of the book.

"Punch them? Like...with your fists?"

"How else?" The Slytherin gave him a dumbfounded look. "You should try it sometime, it's way more satisfying that way."

Remus found another smile suddenly rising on his face; an endeared chuckle escaping past his lips at those strange, strange words.

Then the boy across from him suddenly leaned back with his arms crossed. "And what about you?"

"Huh?" Lupin sputtered.

"You're from Gryffindor. Don't you guys hit each other over the head with quidditch bats every morning over there?"

"Huh? No??"

"Well that's what I heard being said about you in the Slytherin common room."

Remus didn't know whether to feel insulted or to laugh again. "But- that's ridiculous." He giggled.

"Honestly I was ready to believe it with the way some of you act, especially before a 'game' or whatever."

"You're not much into quidditch huh?"

The Slytherin shrugged. "I don't see the point."

"Me neither to be fully honest," Lupin admitted. "But my friends are, and they drag me along to each game. They get so excited I don't have the heart to refuse."

The boy across from him carved in another shape along the messy spine of the clay piece, staying silent but in thought.

"Uh...I guess your friends are not fans of quidditch either?" Remus tried, scratching the back of his neck.

"Well, I don't really know anyone there."

"Huh? From Slytherin? You don't know anyone?"

"Yeah." He muttered "Haven't really tried making any friends."

Abort! Abort! Remus's mind screeched so in the most awkward fashion the lycanthrope brought the conversation back around. "Oh well, what about your classes then? Are they- um are they going...okay...?"

"I guess?"

"Like potions for example! You guys are good at that."

If the Slytherins face could turn more thunderous it would.

Remus was getting red in the face trying to figure out the boy in front of him.

"Ah, so...potions not good either?"

"Hmph, it's more that the professor is inadequate."

"Slughorn?" The werewolf gaped "But isn't he your head of house?"

"Head of house my ass, that man has not done enough to be the head of anything at all."

Remus snorted so hard he had to cover his mouth to not make any more noise than he already had.

"I'm being serious!" the snake insisted

Coughing, the scarred boy nodded in sympathy. "I believe you, James and Lily argue all the time about him." Realizing the Slytherin could not possibly know enough about what he was talking about he sputtered. "Oh um...nevermind- ah-"

"How so?" The golden blonde inquired.

"Ah well...my friend James is, well, he's good at potions, just not very diligent and keeps fooling around, Slughorn has it out for him because of it." He scratched on the bridge of his nose, eyes down on the book. "In contrast Lily is the smart kind, she does all the assignments as best as she can and she's great at it. Slughorn likes her."

"So they argue about him?"

"Yeah, Lily likes Slughorn, thinks he's smarter than he lets on. To James though, he's a "bloodsucking snake" or whatever."

The Slytherin frowned. "I don't think snakes suck blood..."

Lupin chuckled. "James says strange things when he gets all fired up sometimes."

"Yeah." The other agreed with a strange expression as if recalling something. Then he shook it off and replied instead, "They seem like good friends."

"Um, y-yeah." Remus once again flushed. He could not deny how nice it felt to have someone comment on his relationships; point them out. It made things that much more real to him if others could see them as well. His very own friends. "There's Sirius as well...ah, he's another good friend of mine." Lupin couldn't help but gush. "He can be a bit hiperactive but he has a good heart, great at quidditch too. He's the one that tries to rope me into the whole thing the hardest, always talking about how I have a 'beater build' or whatever... When he actually gave me the bat I could not hit a ball for the life of me, my arms are like wet noodles when it comes to that game..." He gazed down at his hands with a frown. "I don't think I even have a beater build..." Then he looked back up. "I think you might have one though-"

The Slytherin was gazing at him with an expression Lupin could not explain or even comprehend; it was as if the golden blonde knew every secret about him while simultaneously not knowing anything at all. He sat back, his arms crossed and faced relaxed. Yet his eyebrows were raised ever so slightly, charcoal optics focused directly on him, black like the dark side of the moon doubled in a murky reflection. Remus felt studied yet not understood; as if meeting a relative you haven't seen in a long enough time for them to turn into a complete stranger.

"Anyways-" Remus tried to once again steer the conversation away after realizing he just gushed about his friends to a person who apparently didn't have any. "Maybe not potions but- um what about transfiguration?"

The others eyes lit up.

From that point on it felt as if the two of them were stuck in a timeless bubble, discussing everything and anything under the sun. The Slytherin seemed enraptured with Hogwarts, truly in love with the place. But more so he seemed to cherish magic itself even further. He spoke with such confidence about the subjects he found interesting and with determination about things he didn't understand, as if it was only a matter of time until he would.

They spent an extensive amount of time discussing their favorite spells, what charms they thought were most useful and which the most beautiful. The conversation spiraled when they started discussing the Hogwarts menu as the Slytherin turned out to be overtly picky, turning his nose on half of the things Remus ate on a daily basis.

By the time they got to talking about the professors Lupin was gobsmacked to find out the other thought Dumbledore's outfits were great and not an insult to fashion itself. Though perhaps he should have expected that opinion when looking at the way the snake dressed. The uniform truly did save him on a daily basis.

They had to leave at some point, as the light from the outside was turning dimmer and the oil lamps flickered on the lycanthrope realized he had stayed at the library far longer than he had expected to. The two of them still talked as they trotted downstairs and out into the street. It was far cooler than it was in the morning, grey clouds shielding the sky away from sun's rays, turning everything soft and humid.

"I can't wait until I get to go back." The Slytherin whispered, his gaze turned upwards as they walked.

"Me too." Lupin nodded. All around them tiny lights flickered on, illuminating the displays of crammed stores. The rustle and hoots of owls echoed above, haunted yet comforting.

"The lake is beautiful you know." He whispered as if telling Lupin a secret. "Sometimes when it is early, or late, a merman will tap on the window and sing. It is the most beautiful sound, I think. But they don't come if the common room is crowded."

"That's wonderful." Remus smiled. "In Gryffindor tower all you can hear in the morning and night is James's snoring."

The Slytherin huffed, a light smile pulling at his features.

They stopped in front of a floo network building and entered. It was mostly empty, lit lowly with a couple lamps. The air was humid and pressing. The Slytherin turned towards him.

"My name is Acher Tallhill." He said suddenly.

Remus stood dumbfounded for way too long, not understanding what the other was talking about. "Oh!" Lupin flushed. "We did not even introduce ourselves..." he straightened, trying to disperse the embarrassed blush on his face. "I'm Remus Lupin."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Lupin." Acher shook his hand. His palm was hot yet the fingertips were ice cold. "I supposed we will see each other at Hogwarts next semester."

"Hah, I suppose we will." He nodded.

As Acher entered his fireplace Remus couldn't help but call out to him. "Oh, um, Tallhill!"

"Hm?"

"I hope you find some friends in Slytherin as well."

Acher paused, gazing at him for a long couple seconds from underneath the stone mantle place, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded, bid him another quiet goodbye, walked in and with a flick of the wrist disappeared in a whirl of fire.

Chapter Text

Severus's second year at Hogwarts started off horribly, his bad luck trailing behind him from his house right up that train platform and beyond it.

It stared off well enough. He got to sit with Lily in an otherwise empty compartment, sharing candy and chatting about their classes. Only for about fifteen minutes though before the place was swarmed by overzealous lions all wanting to catch up with her. That James guy in particular clung to Lily like a mouse to a glue trap.

He may have gotten a bit heated when Potter suddenly insinuated Lily should switch to their compartment instead and ended up kicking the other boy in the shin. Bad idea. As sweet and innocent as he acted towards Evans, James was more vicious than many Slytherins Severus had encountered. For the rest of the conversation James sent him passive aggressive looks and offensive remarks that got more and more grating up until he mercifully left them alone again.

That did not stop him from tripping Snape on his way out of the train compartment when Lily wasn't looking; Sirius Black, James's little minion, snickering as Snape picked himself back up.

Severus managed to swallow down his bitterness for the rest of the evening, trying not to pay as much attention to the table of lions during the opening feast. He had dealt with bullies back in muggle school, this was no different, they would let go eventually. Besides, Lily would never associate herself with a boy like that.

After the meal the Slytherins all headed to the dungeon, Snape lagging a bit behind to admire the tall, imposing architecture he loved so much. A couple new paintings were added, though mostly of inanimate objects so there wasn't much of a conversation to be had. His favorite was definitely the still life of assorted deep wood branches, the fruits of that tree a popular ingredient in many potions. They were tiny, black and bitter, with a characteristic smell of charcoal and syrup.

Snape's hands were itching to grab a cauldron.

Instead he sighed and started again walking towards the dungeon stairs. Potions would happen soon enough and then he could relax.

Walking through the portrait hole Severus was greeted with a group of students crowded around each other in the common room. A lot of them were clearly first years getting acquainted with common school rules though apparently not in any official way as the head of house was missing. As usual anyway.

Snape sighed and walked through the room with quick steps, determined to just get back into his dorm and sleep his feeling away. Maybe in the morning he'd feel better.

"Hey Snape!" Avery's voice made Severus freeze halfway through his journey.

He slowly turned to the group, Avery being one of the boys standing next to the first years. "How was summer for you Snape? Back in the slum with the muggles?" His pale face was twisted into a cruel smirk, the other boys around him giggling at the comment. The gaggle of first years turned as well to look in Snape's way. "That's a reminder for you guys," Avery nudged one of the younger students on the shoulder. "Halfbreeds are in every house nowadays, even in Slytherin." The smaller boy standing next to him looked unsurely between Snape and his roommate. He was clearly an affluent pure blood, with dark hair and grey eyes, his brand new uniform pressed evenly and his shoes shined and sleek; other first year purebloods crowded around him like a flock of sheep.

"Not going to say anything?" Mulciber chimed in, leaning his body on Avery's side.

Severus flushed, realizing he had been standing in the center of the room, all eyes on him for way too long for comfort. Yet he felt like he couldn't leave, their gazes pinning him down like a butterfly to a corkboard. But the entrance to the doorms was right there behind him. If he could just move- move-!

"Excuse me..." a monotone voice spoke just next to him. Severus flinched, snapping his head to the side where a familiar face greeted him. Long and oval, with strong features and a cascade of golden hair rivaling that of a lion. Tallhill looked down at him passively, a massive, cream yellow cat nestled in his arms. Snape never got to know her name, yet now he was hit with how she had grown twice as big over the course of the summer holidays. She must have been eating whatever her owner does.

Acher looked around when Snape didn't reply, his eyes falling on the group of students crowded near the fireplace, gaze catching on Avery's.

It was downright mesmarizng, watching the proud pureblood melt like wax in candlelight under Tallhills stare. Instantly the groups cocky attitude shift, nervousness slowly bleeding through each member until everyone was looking in different directions as if they hadn't been jeering and laughing at Snape just a second ago. Even the first years who did not know who Tallhill even was and had no idea about his violent streak could tell it was better to stay quiet.

The cat in Achers arms twisted her head to stare at the crowded Slytherins before her whiskers bristled and she hissed loudly, the pupils of her purple eyes thin like needles. A first year girl actually flinched, hiding behind the students next to her.

Tallhill turned back around to face Snape before his gaze trailed further to the exit he was blocking.

"Oh- um-" Severus stuttered and hurriedly turned on his heel, marching out of the common room and into the adjacent hallway.

Snape's brain was running a million miles per hour as he made his way down the corridor to their dorm room, Tallhill's languid footsteps following him in long, brisk paces. So easy. It was so bloody easy for a person like Tallhill to completely subdue a bully like Avery, not only that but a bully surrounded by like minded goons. He did not even have to say anything.

That was the power of having a reputation.

Snape opened the door to their room and walked in quickly, rushing over to his bed that was the furthest to the left. He sighed once he touched the familiar dark canopy and thick covers, he really had missed this. Popping open his suitcase the boy rummaged through the contents to sort back his stuff.

Then Snape quickly stole a glance back through the wall of his dark hair.

Tallhill was still entertaining the beast, allowing the tall, chunky creature to stand proudly on top of his shoulders and back while the blonde leaned over the pile of clothing in his suitcase, sorting out his pairs of socks into tight bundles.

Despite being a mere second year Snape could see clear as day the other could throw him across the room if he wanted. He was an almost full head taller than him and outweighed him nearly twice over. Not that big of an achievement in retrospect seeing as Severus looked closer to a skeleton than anything else but Tallhill rivaled most of his year in terms of body mass so it still counted. He'd probably only get bigger as time goes on too...

Severus bit his lip, an interesting, if a bit slimy idea suddenly forming in his brain.

If he were to, somehow, glue himself to Tallhill frequently enough to blend into his shadow then guys like Avery or Mulciber would not be able to get him as easily, if at all. Now, Snape had never made another friend after meeting Lily, she was after all, all he needed in terms of relationships. She was smart, funny, empathetic and understood him on a level nobody else ever did. Suffice it to say he was not really in shape when it came to talking to people he did not know very well.

But well, Tallhill seemed like a simple creature, far simpler than Lily that's for sure. He was strange and a bit dull, violent too from what he's seen, but at a glance not unnaproachable. Snape didn't know much about his particular likes and dislikes, or really even what kind of grades he had. All he did have to know though was that he was a good fighter, that he saw for himself, and if Tallhill was dumb enough to throw himself at Snape's bullies that one time then he was dumb enough to get swayed into accepting Snape tailing him for the rest of the year.

Snape turned back to his suitcase and took a long, shuddered breath. He could do this, just light, surface level conversation. Nothing to fear.

He turned, fully determined to either talk or get hit "Tallhill-" the sound of the door shutting made his jaw snap back shut.

Severus looked around dumbly yet all he found was an empty room, the blonde boys suitcase shut and already slid under the bed.

Tallhill...left?

All that was really left of him was the cat. With her plump, almond shaped body and tall, pointed whiskers she looked more like a seal than a feline where she laid lazily on top of a messy knot of covers.

Merlin, he had forgotten how elusive Tallhill was.

[...]

Severus hoped to catch the blonde the next morning yet upon waking up Tallhill was already gone, his bed left haphazardly made where his large cat slept in a pile of his discarded pajamas. She had evidently moved very little since the previous night.

During breakfast, nothing. Honestly Severus wasn't expecting anything from that anyway.

First period, charms. Tallhill did not show up until the very last minute, taking a seat in the last empty spot next to the door, furthest from Severus as if he was mocking him.

Second period, history of magic. Snape actually managed to sit relatively close to him this time, at least in the same row, separated by some Hufflepuff girl Severus knew nothing about. Yet even with this small blessing he completely failed to make any sort of eye contact, let alone exchange a word. The entire class Tallhill scribbled what appeared to be complete gibberish in his notebook, not looking up from it once.

Third period, double potions. Snape was getting jittery, this was the last lesson block of the day and he had not even exchanged a glance with his roommate. How hard can it be? They are in the same house. Same year! Same bloody room!

The first thirty minutes of the first class were the usual speal. Slughorn talking up a storm about vaguely potion related topics. Snape had a complicated relationship with the man, on one hand he admired him for his talent while on the other downright despised his jovial yet opportunist attitude. He knew that if he had not been as good at potions as he is the man would not look twice his way. After all, what good was a gangly little halfblood to a pureblood favorist like Slughorn?

Snape gazed around the dim classroom, taking in the low, orange-green lighting that spilled across the colorful potion glass and scratched cauldron casings. The air was thick, fumes of several potions stewing quietly at the front of the room (no doubt the professors personal projects) permeating it in a swirl of sweet yet bitter aroma. The tables were chipped, old, dark brown paint coming off on the bottom in tiny chunks, a few meaningless drawls etched into the wood at the sides, most certainly cut in with the standard potion knives.

The boy exhaled through his nose quietly. It felt as if for the first time in a long time his heart had truly settled. In the darkness of that classroom, feeling the far away heat of the fire, hearing the low simmer of potions. This was good, for once.

"All right everyone. Now, since it is the new semester we are going to be assigning working partners again." Slughorn clapped his hands. "Please find your pair and move on to the closest available working area!"

Severus scrambled to his feet as everyone rose. Merlin, it was as if he had almost fallen asleep, what were they doing again? The Slytherin looked around in panic.

Ah yeah, potion partners. Honestly he had not been expecting it, he thought the arrangements would simply stay the same as last year...

Wait.

Severus searched frantically with his eyes for a mop of familiar blonde hair. There. Tallhill was bowed over some book on his desk, standing as was everyone yet apparently completely not interested in looking for a partner, his body leaning away from the text yet his eyes still glued to the page as if connected to it by a piece of string. Snape crossed the classroom quickly, weaving between a group of Gryffindors and two other Slytherins. Finally he was at the boys side once again.

"Hey." Snape said.

Tallhill blinked, slowly straightening his body to look back at Severus with a blank expression, his eyes even darker in the dimness of the classroom. Ugh, what a creep. With the way he moved you'd expect the guy to be a hoard of crows in a trench coat or something.

And of course he did not reply, simply staring at Snape.

"Could we um, you know, partner up? This semester...for the potions I mean." That came out way more awkwardly than he intended to.

The other Slytherin assessed him for a few seconds that to Snape lasted hours, his gaze heavy like stone. Then he nodded slowly before his gaze suddenly shifted to something behind Severus.

Snape turned around.

Lily stood a few steps behind him, her eyes rapidly bouncing between Tallhill and Snape as if assessing something.

Wait.

Did she...?

"Lily-!" Snape immediately called.

"Ah, Sev it's really no problem! Don't worry about it!" The girl smiled wide, quickly trotting backward to one of her Gryffindor friends. "I'll work with Dorcas instead! Really!" She wrapped her arm around the other girl and not listening to any of her protests pulled her away to the other end of the classroom.

Severus was left dumbfounded, his hand, stretched out to where Lily used to stand, still in the air.

He had totally forgotten they had potions with Gryffindors this year! Had he really been so enraptured with trying to talk to Tallhill that he didn't even notice Lily being in the same classroom as him?? Morgana, now she'll think he actually wants to be friends with that weirdo. Oh he won't hear the end of this...

Severus looked back, only to see Tallhill already looking at him. His expression impassive as always yet equally intent, dark eyes not afraid to meet his.

Snape swallowed thickly, before straightening his spine and huffing out a curt "Let's go then."

Luckily he did not get his teeth kicked in for that subtle bite in tone, and the blonde did actually follow him, the shadow of his form eclipsing Snape's figure in the dim classroom like some mountain. They found and empty station pretty quickly, allowing Snape to rummage through his things and get his potions book out, the well loved pages crinkling as he sifted through them. He had already gone over most of the material in his spare time, having not much to do during summer. Long blocks of notes littered the corners of the recipes, quick and thin like spiderwebs.

Once everyone found their seats Slughorn walked over to the front of the room again, clapping his hands together with a pleased smile. "There we go. Now, this academic year you will be presented with a unique assignment, of course done in pairs, right along with your partner."

Severus paled. Year long assignment? Oh Merlin, this was bad. He only wanted to sit with Tallhill to periodically use him as a shield, he didn't need to work with the guy for longer then necessary.

Biting his lip he glanced quickly at the blonde next to him. Maybe though...maybe this was also an opportunity... Maybe getting a bit closer would ultimately guarantee him more safety. Being seen outside of class would make the claim they were acquainted more tangible. He just needs to not hang around him too much, less he is demoted to an outcast alongside him.

"You will be assigned a potion at random, and have to brew it yourself, with your own ingredients. I've chosen the potions myself, so do not worry about not being able to find specific things as all of them are available within the castle grounds!"

Just like that tiny slips of paper sprung up from a small jar that so far had been sitting innocuously on top of the professors desk. The parchments fluttered as they flew through the classroom, each one stopping at a different desk. Snape watched curiously as their own individual slip wobbled over in the air, unfurling itself in front of them.

"Sunbeam Brew" was written inside.

Sunbeam Brew, Snape was familiar with that one thankfully, not too many ingredients though it would be rather tricky to gather them all quickly. Sand Ducts only grow in early spring so they would have to wait until next semester-

"What is that?" Severus nearly jumped out of his skin. Tallhill had leaned over to gaze at the paper, his quiet, monotone voice making Severus's back explode in shivers. He had completely forgotten how how the blonde even sounded up to this point.

Snape cleared his throat. "It's a very simple potion, it makes your skin feel hot when you rub some into it." He explained. "Medwixen usually use it."

"Huh." The blonde hummed, watching passively as the strip of paper fluttered away, back into the jar with the others.

Snape carded through the contents of the potion book once more, finding the designated concoction at the back of the book where smaller recipes were placed. Sunbeam only took up half a page, with the brewing instructions being most of it as the ingredients list was only a couple entries.

They had to be intelligent about gathering those ingredients though. Since they themselves were supposed to gather them and couldn't use the schools reserves they had to get them fresh from the source.

"We have to get started soon." Snape mused.

"When?" Tallhill asked, straightforward with his words.

Clearing his throat the other Slytherin answered awkwardly. "Uh, whenever? This week...preferably." unless the blonde wanted Snape to do all the gathering and brewing, then it didn't really matter. Back in first year he was paired up with a random Ravenclaw boy named Sander. The two of them didn't really speak with each other and Snape was the one to brew most things. It worked for the both of them, Sander didn't have to do anything and Snape didn't have anybody sticking their fingers into his potions.

"Okay, tomorrow then."

"Tomorrow?" Snape turned towards Tallhill, baffled.

The taller boy just shrugged, gazing at the faint ceiling light and the way its fire flickered against the potion fumes wafting through the air. Tallhill's silhouette beat orange and dark as the glow reverberated across his features. "We might as well. What is tomorrow anyway?"

"Two Herbology and one Charms." Snape replied after a couple seconds of thought.

"We can do some of it after Charms then."

Snape nodded unsurely.

"Can I get a copy of those?" Tallhill pointed at the ingredients list for the potion.

"Oh, yeah." Severus sputtered, pulling out a blank piece of parchment and scribbling them down with shaky fingers, unsure of exactly why he felt as nervous as he did.

[...]

They sat next to each other at Herbology the next day, pulling dead leaves off of the same plant, an old Eastern Blackbush. Originally they were not actually paired together at all, but Tallhill came to class a full five minutes late and ended up being sat with Severus, the only one to not yet be in any sort of group.

Thankfully Profesor sprout was not angry enough to duck any points for the blondes lateness. Not that Tallhill would receive any sort of ire from the Slytherins, as far as Snape was concerned, the tall boy could cost them a 100 and no one would be brave enough to say anything.

So they were off to the side of the class, preening an old bush while all the other groups were busy repotting the newer Blackbushes into new pots.

Snape always liked the greenhouse, it was wide with a tall transparent ceiling that allowed for a full view of the sky and was packed to the brim with long stretches of bushy greenery, stretching on and on. It certainly put a contrast to something like the dungeons but Snape liked it anyway.

"Hey." Severus jumped, snapping back to reality where he had been staring quietly at a group of bees filtering through the nearby flowers.

Tallhill was leaning over the side of the bush, gazing at him from behind the dark, coiling leaves with a lone, black eye.

"What?" Severus whispered, resuming his scissor work at the wizened branches of the plant.

"I've got one of the things we need for the potion."

"That's good." The raven haired boy nodded. Now that was interesting, he didn't think Tallhill would take so much to the project as to gather things before Snape even did. "What is it? The clovers?"

Tallhill looked to the side to where Profesor Sprout was fussing over a Hufflepuff girls work before he reached into his back pocket. Pulling out a bundle wrapped in brown parchment he slid it over to Snape on the small wooden stool the Blackbush was standing on.

A bit crudely wrapped but still better than nothing at all. Severus huffed. And what's with the secrecy? Honestly, you'd think they were trading dragon bone with how-

Snape gaped at the unfurled package in his hands. Mushrooms, Lumina-Lumus fungi, no doubt about it. Thin, silvery mushrooms with long stretchy stems and tiny, plaint caps covered in small, snow like warts. Three of them, more than they needed.

Quickly snapping the bag closed Snape pushed the object deep into his own back pocket. "What- how-?" He whispered-yelled. "Those aren't growing around here until November! Did you steal those or something??"

"I'm many things, but I am no thief." The blonde raised his hands in mock surrender, returning back behind the plant to resume his work.

Yeah, Snape did not believe that for a second. He could have broken into Slughorn's reserves. Morgana, what if he bullied some upperclassmen into giving him the ingredients?

Severus massaged the space between his eyes before quickly pulling out the bundle again.

No, this couldn't have been stolen from any reserves. They were fresh, not dried which was the usual way wixen stored fungi, including their potions professor. But how on earth could he get those? He would've had to go into a cave or something, somewhere where the temperatures were low enough the mushrooms grew even outside of season.

The rest of the class passed with Snape feeling jittery, his leg bouncing nervously while his mind continued to spiral.

He did not even notice when the lesson ended, only when the greenhouse was already half empty did he look around to find himself almost completely alone. Cursing under his breath the boy stood up and quickly gathered his things before bolting out the door on with hurried steps. Weaving between groups of students the boy walked through the adjacent courtyard that connected the greenhouse to the rest of the school, gazing around to find the familiar head of golden hair.

"Hey Sev!" Snape startled and swiveled his head to the side.

Lily was red in the face as if she had been running, the wind having blown her bushy hair astray. The massive backpack she always wore laying heavily on her back making her look comically small in comparison. She always insisted on taking almost every book with her, even if she did not need it that day.

"Ah-" she gasped, out of breath. "Sorry I saw you and I needed to catch up!" Evans fanned her face. "How was Herbology just now? We have it in like five minutes, did she ask about the poison root from last year? Ah, I know how much you like to talk about that, I bet you answered it didn't you!"

"Uhh-" Snape, looked around, his eyes still searching for Tallhill. "Eh, no she didn't ask about it."

Lily frowned. "Oh, well I guess it wasn't as important as I thought." Then she smiled again, wide and unabashed as always. "How was your first night back Sev? Did you like the feast yesterday? I ate so much mashed potatoes I don't think I'll be able to look at them again!"

"Well..." Snape began but then at the end of the courtyard a group of sixth years finally moved to the side, revealing Talhill. The tall boy was going up the stairs that lead to the adjacent building underneath the yellowed canopy of trees. His back turned away. Snape looked back at Lily. "Uhh- sorry Lily but I'm a bit busy right now! I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

"What- wait what!?" Lily squeaked but by that point Snape was already running after the other boy.

Catching up with him was no easy feat. The amount of people permitting the hallways seemed to suddenly double, turning Snape's pursuit into an obstacle run. Just how fast was that guy? Surely having longer legs doesn't lead to that much of an advantage.

Finally, he spotted him again, but by that point Talhill was on the moving stairs that led to the higher level.

In some weird, adrenalin furled haze Snape, instead of stopping, increased his speed and jumped for the stairs as the object was already in motion. He landed, but then tripped, tipping backwards with an embarrassing yelp that surely would have turned into a scream had it not been for someone catching his arm at the last minute, preventing him from pummeling down.

"Oh, hi Snape." Of course it was Talhill, the boy pulling him up by the arm with startling strength that had Severus's gangly body lurching dangerously forward.

"Ah- thanks-" he wheezed, all that running catching up to him as he tried to regain his balance.

"Don't do that again, you could have died." The blonde said as the staircase aligned itself with the far side wall.

"He's right!" A painting of an older gentleman in armour on a white-brown horse chimed in. "That was a mighty jump young fellow but completely unnecessary!"

"I agree!" A young lady dressed in silks from a nearby portrait nodded sagely, wagging her painted fan at him. "Foolish I say."

Snape went even readded under the scrutiny, muttering an apology as all the paintings murmured amongst each other. Thankfully now that the staircase was aligned he could quickly follow the other boy up and onto the next floor where the charms classroom was, escaping all the scandalized paintings.

"You still haven't answered my question." Severus hissed, bumping into the blondes shoulder as they walked down the wide, stone hallway.

"About what?" Talhill mused, gazing at him from the corner of his eye.

"Where did you get the fungi?"

The boy pursed his lips, looked up at the marble rafters constructing the ceiling before huffing. "My cat found it."

"Huh? That creature of yours? What is she a dog!?"

Talhill shrugged. "She has a pretty good nose, maybe she was one in her past life."

"Wha- you- how-?" Snape stuttered, his face going horribly red again.

When they finally arrived at the charms classroom Talhill slipped in without a word, Severus following in his footsteps. They ended up sitting next to each other at the front as they waited for the others to arrive, Talhill instantly pulled out some random notebook and began scribbling weird, crude shapes into the paper. Severus wanted to ask him whether they meant anything at all, but found himself only sitting there, watching as the other boys quill scratched on and on.

Up and down, left and right in strange, mellow strokes that were all both random yet bizarrely consistent. Like watching water drip, combine and separate itself down a window.

Before he knew it class had started, yet Talhill kept on drawing.

[...]

"What are they called again?" Acher asked, leaning over Snape's shoulder to get a look at the list he had in his hands.

"Sun clover. It's a very popular ingredient but there isn't a lot of it. Luckily we only need about five in total."

They were already outside. The weather was a bit cloudy but it wasn't necessarily cold, just a bit windy. Stretches of wild grass and tangled bushes climbed underneath their feet as they walked through the meadows surrounding Hogwarts, tall trees humming around them with their yellowed leaves, birds chirping. The air was always so crisp and full around the school, a total opposite of Cokeworth where the stench of chemicals and smoke permitted everything.

It was nice at Hogwarts, but it also made coming back home that much more torturous.

"I know where a patch of them is." Severus nodded, speeding up his walk down the wavy, stone steps pushed into the earth.

Yet when they arrived at the patch all they saw were two students already crouched over it.

"Oy! It's Snivvy!" And of course one of them just had to be Sirius Black.

The curly haired fool straightened from his crouch with a beaming smile on his obnoxious face, hands poised on his hips.

"Sod off Black." Snape scoffed.

"Mouthy today, huh?"

"Sirius..." The boy next to him murmured. He was tall, with ashy brown hair and a face layered in small scars. "Let's not do this today."

Black pouted like a toddler.

"Yeah Black, you better listen to your owner and stop barking." Severus hissed.

"What did you say?" Black moved closer, face thunderous.

Just when Severus thought he was going to end up on the ground again Talhill moved a step in front of him. "We are not here for that." He stated, matter of factly. "We just need the clovers."

Sirius scoffed. "Tough luck then, we've got the last batch."

"What!?" The smaller snake exclaimed. "What do you mean by that? It's the second day of school! How could it be gone already?"

"Uh, I think more people were assigned potions with it than we thought." The boy next to Sirius said. "So a lot of people came by early and...took them."

Snape pushed through the two Gryffindors to look at the patch and yes, the small clover field was picked try, only the stems still sticking out of the ground.

"Looks like you'll have to wait." Black snickered, shrugging his shoulders with a smug expression.

The tall ashy blonde next to Sirius turned suddenly to Talhill. "Ah, we do have some extra if you need them. We only need four so we can spare this one." He reached into a small brown baggie and took out a white, bushy flower, putting it onto Tallhill's outstretched palm.

"What!? Nooo, Remus don't give them anything." Sirius whined, pulling on the boys arm.

Snape sighed, looking at the lone flower. "That is nowhere near enough..."

"Well, I'm sure there is some other place you can go and look before the end of the season." Remus scratched his head awkwardly before taking Blacks arm gingerly into his grip. "We need to go now, so, um yeah. See you around." He gave Severus a curt nod and a polite smile to Talhill before he dragged the other lion away back towards the castle.

Exhaling deeply Severus sat down on the grass, looking up into the grey sky. The trees around them rustled again, birds singing a little louder.

After a couple quiet seconds Talhill spoke. "We can just wait for new ones to grow."

"I know but.." Snape clicked his tongue. "I'm worried it's going to get picked out again before we get to it, you know how people are. And the season for them is ending." Frustrated, he ripped out a patch of grass, throwing the shredded leaves into the wind. "This assignment is so stupid."

"Is there really no other patch?" Acher asked, the boy gazing down at the small clover flower pinched between his fingers.

"Not around here I think." He shrugged. "There's probably other patches in the forest but, we can't go there."

Acher paused. "Why would there be ones in the forest?"

"The patches like to follow a line pattern." Snape motioned vaguely in the air before pointing behind himself at the edge of the dark forest. "So if there is one here there is definitely one in those woods...somewhere."

"Huh..." The tall boy hummed, his eyes trailing between Snape and the woods. "I guess we need to go into the forest then."

Snape nearly chocked on his own spit hearing that. "Huh- you're joking right?"

Tallhill shook his head. "If we want the flowers now we need to find them, and if that means going into the forest then so be it."

"The forest is forbidden."

"I never said it wasn't."

"This is ridiculous, you know what I'm saying Tallhill."

"I know, but I also know what I'm saying and what I'm saying is we need to go into the forest to find those flowers for the potion."

Snape groaned, putting his face into his hands.

"We may also...find some other things." The blonde boy mused. "Like, some other rare ingredients..."

Snape bit his lip, his eyes trailing to the dark canopy of trees. Then when he turned around Tallhill was suddenly crouched in front of him, staring right into his soul. "Some cool mushrooms, herbs, weird unknown plants... All without limits, for free."

"N-No way!" Severus pushed him away before standing up hurriedly. "I'm not going to follow you into the Forbidden Forest like some sheep, that would get us into so much trouble! We would get detention for the rest of the school year!"

"Who says we'd get caught?" Tallhill shrugged, standing up as well.

"I'm saying we would!" Snape started walking back to the castle, Tallhill hot on his heels.

"Well I'm saying we wouldn't."

"Who cares what you're saying this is a stupid idea!"

"I think it's quite brilliant actually."

Chapter Text

Severus was always a light sleeper. Not for any good reason. His home life was...turmoilous, to say the least, and his parents nightly disputes caused him to always keep an ear out for any stray noises that may arise in the night.

Because of this, in the dead of the dark hour, underneath the black waters of the Hogwarts lake a singular familiar meow caused Severus to jolt awake and sit up hurriedly, pulling the curtains around his bed open.

His roommate, Acher Tallhill, a boy he had familiarized himself with merely a day before was standing frozen at the foot of his bed, caught in the middle of putting on his pants.

In the middle of the night.

Snape gaped at the other, and so did Tallhill gape at him. Then Achers cat meowed again from her spot on the blonde's bed and the boy turned around hurriedly to clamp his hand over the creature's mouth. She made a couple disgruntled noises before biting the boy on the hand, making him hiss quietly, a noise so loud in the completely silent night Severus quickly checked the beds of his other roommates. Thankfully both of them were still asleep.

Yet Acher resumed putting on his pants, pulling a striped sweater over them as if normally getting ready for the day.

"What on earth are you doing?" Snape hissed quietly, flinging his covers to the side.

Tallhill put on his sneakers. "Exactly what I told you yesterday."

Severus recalled their previous conversation and then paled. "No- You're not actually planning on going into that forest are you-?"

Acher looked at him, eyes dark and unblinking, before grabbing a leather bag from his nightstand.

Biting his lip Severus looked around the dark room. Tallhill wasn't kidding, he really wasn't. That idiot was going to do the single most insane thing a Hogwarts student can do and fling himself right into the maw of unknown danger just for the sake of gathering a few ingredients for their stupid potions assignment. To go into the Forbidden Forest.

Snape clenched his teeth, took a deep breath and then got out of bed.

"Wait for me." He whispered before adding. "You moron."

Snape swore he saw the blonde smile.

After a few minutes the two of them were hurriedly sneaking through the Slytherin common room, weaving between the scattered armchairs, stools and dark curtains. The whole wide space was bathed in blackness, the usually glowing windows now pitch dark. Only the nurse of Snape's weak lumos illuminating the thick dusk in stark white.

They arrived at the portrait hole and swiftly exited into the main hall of the dungeon, the air outside cold and frigid as if the dark brick itself was radiating frost.

Merlin, Snape's footsteps sounded so bloody loud in the silent hallway. The smaller boy turned towards the blonde, leveling him with a hard stare "What now genius? We can't just go through the main entrance."

Acher turned on his heel and started walking further into the dungeon.

"W-Wait!" Severus hissed, hurrying after the other, grabbing the back of his sweater as if he were an unruly dog.

Trying to stay as quiet as possible Severus had to reign in his complaints, simply following the blonde down the dark hallway. The dungeons were an interesting place within Hogwarts, short but maze-like, usually not patrolled in any way unlike the rest of the school, after all people usually didn't really have a reason to sneak around in them as there wasn't much to do, just a string of dark hallways, cold as ice even in the spring.

They took a couple turns and stopped suddenly at a curved, smooth stone wall. Snape gazed at it in confusion, putting the light of his lumos closer to inspect it further yet found nothing,

Tallhill pushed in front of him and took out his own wand, placing the tip onto the surface, then, as if guided by hidden blueprint, guided it across the wall in a series of simple yet strangely specific patters.

When he let go, there was a subtle click, not unlike something slowly sliding into place behind the wall before the surface itself molded to reveal the indent of a stone arch. Acher placed his palm onto it and pushed. The arch gave, sliding sideways like a door to reveal a dark hallway.

"A hidden passage..." Snape whispered in disbelief. He knew they existed in Hogwarts of course but had never actually seen one in person.

"Let's go." Tallhill said, not giving the smaller Slytherin even a second to marvel before he slid into the darkness of the passage, molding with it like some creature of the night.

Snape was once again left running after him.

The doors closed on their own, leaving the two boys to trail up the stone steps only in the light of their lumos. Snape noticed with interest that Acher's lumos was not the same color as his, but instead shone a more potent lapis-blue light. He had no idea something like that could be done...

The passage itself showed very little signs of life, not even cobwebs lingering at the low ceiling, a thin layer of dust caking itself to the sides of the steps, small particles kicking up into the air as they walked.

Severus was, admittedly very nervous. He kept expecting some professor to suddenly jump out at them through the darkness ready to give them detention and deduct like a hundred house points. They'd probably be assigned to cauldron cleaning for the rest of the year. Morgana, if they catch them in the forest they'd probably have detention for the next two years, and a letter to their parents as well.

Severus felt sweat prick the back of his neck at the thought of his mother receiving such a letter. His father would care, but his mum? She'd be furious.

They walked for what to Snape felt like ages but was more realistically about 5 minutes. Their breaths and steps echoing strangely in the tight darkness.

Then finally, they reached a latch, one that the blonde unlocked after a couple seconds of tinkering with the rusty mechanism. Just like that they slid themselves out of the small hallway and what appeared to be the tail end part of an old sewer, the latch carved into a small elevation next to a stone trough that used to lead water out of an opening in the side of the castle.

Acher hopped off the elevation Snape shimmying down beside him on wobbly legs. Luckily there was only a very thin layer of water present, mostly clear too.

The through hole that lead to the outside was a relatively wide arch, with old, ornate metal bars that someone punched out at some point, leaving only a couple intact at the sides. The blonde slipped out through the opening first, Severus after him.

There they were, outside of Hogwarts in the midst of a dark night. Shadows eclipsed the two of them like a swarm as they lowered the intensity of their lumos, the grass underneath their feet long and dark like spider legs. Snape exhaled deeply, staring with wide eyes at the faint outline of the Forbidden Forest, the tops of trees just barely standing out against the sky where only a couple, faint stars lingered, their desperate light clawing at the thick clouds concealing their visage. The moon was nowhere to be seen, it's absence normal yet unnerving at the same time.

Snape turned around and found himself unable to fully make out Hogwarts itself, only a veiled shadow blending into the sky so much so you'd think the towers climbed infinitely.

"Let's go." Tallhill whispered. In the washed-out lapis light his normally vibrant visage glowed like a ghost, yet his eyes remained dark, black as everything around them.

And so they went.

A chill breeze combed through the air, rustling the dark grasses and creating a strange, faint howling noise that echoed between the Hogwarts towers, it's moaning relentless but quiet.

Snape didn't even realize they had arrived at the edge of the woods before a tree suddenly appeared directly in front of him, his light too faint to make it out before. He startled, suddenly confronted with the visage of old bark. Severus trailed his gaze up the tall tree, where the long, thin branches bent down, spreading out and reaching like fingers. Curled leaves rustling and grating against one another in the wind.

The boy next to him walked forward, stepping confidently in between two trees, right into the heart of darkness.

"Merlin-! Wait!" Snape whisper-yelled and not being given even a second more to think about his life choices followed the other in with hurried steps

The trees around them coalesced against one another like snakes, their roots molding and writhing, tying themselves into intricate knots above the earth that spoke of thousands of years of nonstop growth. They did not merely live within the soil, they owned it, using up every little inch.

Yet within this ecosystem other plants thrived as well, most notably mushrooms, the soft caps climbing up and down bark and earth in crowded spurts. Below them moss coated the ground and roots, thick and stark green even in the night, all of various kinds.

Snape immediately bent down to rip out clumps of what he knew must be Angelic Moss, layers of it growing below the rotten bark of a fallen oak. It was baby green, with small little yellow antenna like flowers, the buds shaped into thin eyelash wisps. He took out the bag he brought in no time, pushing the vegitation into a paper baggie.

Then he spotted some small Ogai, tiny vine adjacent plants that were actually closer to mushrooms. They were spongy in his hand as he ripped out a respectable chunk, the pale white leaves bobbing up and down as he pulled out the main stem.

"Will these help us?" Tallhill asked, the boy crouching down next to him, watching as Snape picked out some of the dead parts of the plant.

"Ah, no these are for...personal use." Snape admitted, hiding his findings within the old canvas bag on his shoulder.

"Hm." The blonde hummed. "Then I will take some too." He ripped out a chunk of the Angelic Moss.

Severus gazed at him in surprise. "What will you do with it? Planning a potion?"

Tallhill stared at the plant in his hand before bringing it up to his mouth.

"Don't eat it!" Snape protested, grabbing his arm.

"Is it poisonous?"

"Well, no but-"

The blonde opened his mouth again, bringing the moss up.

"No you big dumb idiot!" Severus hissed, grabbing the green clump from his hands and shoving it with all his other findings. "I'll be the one to transport it back for you."

"If you wanna." The blonde shrugged his shoulders, only making Snape more irritated.
"We have to look for the clovers first, can't afford getting side tracked." Acher stood up and Severus hurriedly did so too, the other boy's words a harsh reminded of where they were at the moment.

"Right." The smaller Slytherin whispered, clutching at his bag.

They ventured deeper into the woods, careful with their steps as to not trip and fall over the tangled vegetation roaming across the ancient soil. Small bugs and critters would sometimes skitter across the rotting bark, their bodies but black shadows, only the small sounds their tiny legs made against the wood confirmed they were not but a trick of light in Snape's vision.

Pale light of his Lumos trickled out of Severus's wand like liquid silver, blooming faintly down the moist visage of mushrooms and cracked skin of trees. He took a couple, gently prying them off of the bark and storing each type in a separate little baggie. Galvin Mushroom, Soft Red Cap, Musckl Fungi. Snape couldn't believe just how many different types there were, simply growing there, unharvested. The amount of galleons he'd have to pay in Diagon Alley just for a measly 500g of these.

His work was interrupted by Tallhill, who reached for the Musckl mushrooms as well. Yet he did not end up taking one for himself, instead gently scooping up what seemed to be a tiny snail from atop of one of the caps. A common one at that, small, clearly still a baby, with pointy little antennas and shiny shell.

It was so tiny yet the boy treated it with a startling amount of care, mindful of his wide hands as he watched the tiny creature slither from one finger to another.

Snape had never seen anyone in his life give that much affection to a mere snail. It was...touching.

The distant hoots of an owl suddenly pierced the silence, the sound was faint, yet in the deep seemingly stagnant forest rung louder than any bell or scream. Snape jumped and scrambled to his feet, gazing up at the thick canopy above them yet found nothing, no bird and not anything else.

He exhaled, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

"We should hurry." Tallhill suddenly stated, his gaze glued to the black sky with cryptic frown etched into his features.

Severus nodded, following the other into the woodland.

They ended up deeper in the forest than they originally intended but thankfully found what they were looking for soon enough. A thick patch of familiar clovers sprung up from the earth at the junction of two maples, small but rich, the short pale-yellow flowers sticking up above the bed of round leaves.

Severus ran up and knelt down, a pair of scissors readied in his right hand and a small baggie in the other. Snip, snip, snip, he harvested the yellow buds with quick efficient movements.

"This is more than we need, but it's good to have some for later." Snape whispered to Acher standing above him, the other boy only humming quietly in reply. He still seemed agitated, whether from that sound or something else, his black eyes darting into the darkness unsurely. Looks like even a boy as reckless as him was not immune to the effects of the unknown.

Soon Snape's paper sack was filled and he sealed it away before putting it back into his bag with all his other findings.

"Okay, then this is it." Tallhill nodded, gazing up at the overcast sky once again. "Let's head back."

And so they did.

As they walked Severus's mind swam with possibilities of what he could brew with all he had gathered, the mushrooms would last a long time when dried but some of the leafy plants would need to be crushed and turned into paste to be stored properly. He will need to ask Professor Sprout or Slughorn for some empty containers to keep those in.

Well, the good thing was now they were more or less set when it comes to their class assignment.

Snape raised his wand higher into the air, observing as the silver light of his spell ran up and down the twisted trees, moss and mushrooms. Maybe he will find something useful before they leave, it was certainly not a bad idea to grab a couple more common finds just to have on hand.

A faint pop of color caught his eyes, just off a couple steps from the path they were walking on, high into the air but distinct.

"Tallhill, wait!" Snape called to the other. "I need to check something real quick."

"What?" He heard the other say but Severus was already running towards a lone, large tree.

His suspicions were correct, the massive Snake Beech grew tall and wide, its roots massive like elephant trunks dipping in and out of the ground underneath his feet. The thick, multilayered trunk raised and split off at the top into a cascade of powerful branches, each adorned with a burst of dark leaves and the crowded clusters of tarty, red fruit, the Snakeyes.

"There are so many..." Snape whispered, moving his wand around to spot each branch that held the precious fruit.

Tallhill caught up to him soon enough.

"We shouldn't be splitting." The blonde muttered.

"I need to get up there." The Slytherin insisted, pointing up at the twisting branches of the Beech.

"Why?"

"The fruit Tallhill, look at it!"

The blonde scratched his head, gazing at the tree in silence. "What? Those just look like cranberries."

"No you big oaf!" Snape slapped the blonde's shoulder. "Those are Snakeyes, it's a very good ingredient for both poison and antidotes! The prices in Diagon for one bag are obscene!"

The other Slytherin frowned, looking behind him at the black canopy. "We really shouldn't be staying more than we already have."

Snape frowned. "What's with you all of a sudden? Wasn't it your idea to come here in the first place?"

The blonde sighed and gazed up at the Beech once more. "The fruit is too far away to get down with an Accio..."

"I'm great at climbing trees." Severus shrugged, taking off his bag and passing it to Tallhill, "You just need to boost me up."

Acher took his sack, putting it unsurely over the other shoulder. They both walked over to the trunk silently.

Tallhill knelt down before raising Snape from the ground by his legs like he weighed nothing, giving him a necessary boost to grab onto the nearest branch and heave himself up the tree. It was a bit disorienting and awkward, with one of his right hand being occupied by his wand but he still managed to climb on top of a sturdier, thicker branch.

The wood of the tree itself was colored more red than the others, a circular pattern akin to scales climbing up and down the hard bark.

Snape shuffled forward and slowly raised himself up on shaky legs. There was a cluster of Snakeyes just a branch above him, conveniently low enough. He snatched it quickly, the small fruit tightly bound together like a cluster of grapes.

"Tallhill!" He called to the other boy and soon enough the lapis Lumos below him moved closer and the blonde came into view. "Catch." Severus threw the fruit down. Thankfully Acher was rather agile and caught it without much issue.

Snape had to move extremely carefully to gather anymore of the fruit, most of them grew on higher branches, far away from his reach but there were still a couple he managed to take.

He spotted a few sparser clusters near the trunk, just on the opposite side to where he climbed up. On shaky legs the boy returned to the base of the branch, tightly clutching the trunk with his wand occupied hand before he twisted his body and reached almost blindly for a sparse batch of tiny red dots.

But then, instead of touching smooth, cold fruit his hand laid flat upon something firm yet almost furry, as if the darkness around the fruit was covered with a thin layer of felt. "Huh?" Snape squeezed around it, it was firm and bumpy, inlaid with sparse, thick hair.

He let it go. And then the fruit in front of him blinked, and moved closer. Coming into the light of the Lumos the face of a giant spider molded itself out of the thick darkness of the forest.

"AAH!!" Snape screamed in terror, his body lurching backwards and dislodging itself from the tree. The whole world flipped, once, twice, air surging around him, pushing hair into his face. Snape was convinced he was going to die. But then his frame suddenly slowed, as if stopped by some unseen force before his back collided with a solid mass, form encased by strong arms.

It took Snape a solid three seconds before he even realized what had happened and that Tallhill did in fact catch him before he could plummet from the tree to his death.

"What happened?? What's going on?" The blonde, who's arms Snape was still in, was shaking him in his hold, the outline of his face faint in the darkness, the deep blue light of his Lumos faded.

Severus sputtered and quickly got out of the Slytherins hold, standing up on shaky legs. "A-A spider- massive-!"

The sound of rustling brought both of their gazes up. A shadow, then multiple, blackened gangly legs slithered one by one from the Beech canopy, strange ticking and clicking noises accompanying each and every move.

Snape tugged on Tallhill's hand and they both began to back away from the tree.

The thing was massive, large in height like a mountain dog yet wider on account of it's limbs. Severus's heart nearly jumped out of his throat when the full weight of it suddenly lurched down from the trunk and onto the ground with a heavy thud.

It was ashy black, lightly covered in fur and its head was littered in bulging red, beady eyes, with tiny, sharp mandibles at its mouth, ticking and moving from side to side as if to taste the air. Its movements were strange, wild and unpredictable yet weirdly coordinated at the same time, its many legs shifting non stop while the creature's torso and head stayed perfectly level at all times like the head of a chicken.

It walked forward towards them, not once taking its eyes off of their retreating forms.

Snape wanted to scream but any sounds he sought to utter were instead stuck in his throat. Cold fear gripped him, raising the hair at the back of his neck. Suddenly the whole forest was eclipsing him, every tree and branch now but another spider, barring him from any way to escape the living nightmare in front of him. He felt the spider's eyes on him, blank and animalistic, holding no pupil, just empty dots unable to be reasoned with.

The black shadow slipped closer, the creaking sound of its knobby legs bracing against the earth following its every move.

Then it stilled and lurched forward.

Snape, in the midst of his panic and terror, felt the body next to him tense suddenly, the long, warm line of his companions frame pressing closer against his, pushing him backward. Orange and yellow, the deep swirling colors of fire flashed in his vision.

The dark forest around them soared auburn, illuminated by the fire kindled in the blondes hand. The spider before them let out a shriek, stumbling backward as the light stung at its many eyes.

Tallhill waved his alight palm like a torch, the flames in his hand popping and hissing as they tore through the cold and wet night air, turning a nearly blinding white. He walked forward and with each desperate lurch of his hand sent the giant creature stumbling back as the sheer heat of the flames nipped at its face. Step by step, Tallhill pushed it further and further away from them, over the same raised roots of the Beech and groves of the earth up until its behind hit the trunk of the tree and the creature scrambled upward back to which it came.

"Let's go." Tallhill whispered, grabbing Snape's hand back before they began running.

The wind howled around them as they weaved through the knotted trees, jumped over puddles, roots and planks of rotten wood. Nothing looked familiar anymore, the fire in his roommate's hand had fizzled out and now only the faint, unsure light of his wand still cast anything onto the road. Snape would light up his own but by that point he might have passed out if he so much as lift his wand. The only thing on his mind was leaving the forest.

He still turned his head to see if the spider was following them, yet in the pitch blackness he could never tell. Instead he increased his speed, praying they were alone.

Soon enough they finally found the end of the shrubbery, bursting out with a flutter of dead leaves like two lost deer. The darkness around them expanded, the faint outline of Hogwarts imprinted into the wall of blackness ahead, just as imposing and tall as when they left. And oh how relieving it was to find it completely unchanged.

They dragged themselves as quickly as possible across the grassland leading up to the school, avoiding the main stone paths and going straight for the now familiar sewer by climbing the rolling hill. Once at the foot of the castle, they slipped quickly through the bars back into the sewer like a pair of mice.

When inside they simply stood there, breathing deeply, their gasps echoing down the brick passage. Snape's heart was still beating wildly within his ribcage, bordering on painful, his throat hurting from sucking in the cold night air too greedily. His legs trembled, hands tingling. He could still feel the spider's hideous face against his palm, the bumpiness and hairiness of its tough, leathery skin.

Severus shivered and straightened himself.

Then it hit him.

"What on Merlin was that?" He turned to the blonde next to him.

Acher wiped his nose with the end of his sleeve before shrugging. "A Black Tree Spider I think? They aren't exactly common-"

"No!" Snape hissed. "You know what I'm talking about Tallhill, the fire, the fire you lit your palm wandlessly."

He could barely see anything of Tallhill's face in the darkness, only an outline of his cheek and one lone, black eye. He saw the optic shift down, avoiding his gaze. "How do you know I did it wandlessly? Maybe I was just quick."

"Because you had your wand in the hand I was gripping. My fingers were around your wand the entire time, you couldn't have used it." Snape quipped.

Severus remembered the way the blonde's hand was swallowed by the flames, glowing white and golden underneath the smothering visage of pure fire. Something like that would give you third degree burns in no time.

Swallowing thickly the smaller Slytherin reached out quickly and grabbed the other's right palm.

"Hey-" Acher protested but Snape was already assessing it.

He couldn't see much, but with his touch Snape could tell there were no burns marring Tallhill's skin, just smooth flesh, the palm warm and the fingers strangely cool.

"How..." Severus whispered before the blonde took his hand away.

"There is no time for this." Acher groaned. "Let's get back, before anyone finds us."

Snape wanted to protests. He needed answers, but the taller Slytherin was already heaving himself up the stone elevation and opening up the latch that lead to the secret passage.

He clicked his tongue and followed the other.

[...]

Snape ended up sleeping in.

A terrible thing that had him cursing under his breath as he hurriedly put on his socks the next morning. Of course he would sleep in, half the night he spent getting chased in the woods by a spider.

He still couldn't believe all of that had happened. I felt like some strange, potion induced dream. Yet it was real. If the sacks upon sacks of expensive brewing material he now had in his bag were any indication.

He couldn't exactly blame his body for needing the extra hour of sleep yet that exact need caused him to completely miss Tallhill leaving the room. By the time Snape had rolled out of bed his roommate's sheets were empty, again only that damn cat still lounging around on his pillow, belly up and purring with a smug smile on her feline face.

Mocking him definitely.

He went as quickly as possible through all the face and teeth washing before sprinting out of the dungeon and down the long hallway into the dining hall.

Snape looked around frantically at the sea of students mingling about in the large room as he made his way over to the Slytherin table. Tallhill was a rather easy to spot individual on account of his...well everything. Yet he was also unimaginably slippery.

Severus surveyed all the snakes before looking over the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs for good measure, not omitting the teachers table either.

The blonde was nowhere to be seen.

Snape groaned in frustration tugging at his hair. Of course he wouldn't be here, the blonde spent the entire previous year avoiding the place like a plague...

"Hi Sev!" Lily's red head of hair suddenly popped into his vision. Snape startled, looking down at the girl who was absolutely not there but a second prior. She had on her standard robes already, some butterfly pins pushed into her locks.

"Hi Lily." Snape sighed.

"It's the first time I've seen you late to breakfast, usually you are here so much earlier than me!" The girl giggled.

"Ah yeah, I didn't get a good night's sleep so...ended up oversleeping."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Did you have some bad dreams?"

"You could say that..." Snape nearly jumped seeing a blonde head of hair in his peripheral vision but it ended up being some other golden haired fourth year. He grimaced before looking down at Lily again. "Eh, listen Lils, you were here way before me right?"

"I guess?" She looked at him curiously.

"Great, did you happen to see Tallhill around?"

"Tallhill?"

"Blonde hair, tall, big nose." Snape motioned vaguely with his hands.

"Ooh, that guy." She fiddled with one of the pins in her hair. "I...don't know? I haven't really been paying attention, but I don't think he was here?"

Snape nodded. "I gotta go."

"What!" His friend protested. "B-But we didn't-"

"Sorry Lils I'm just really busy right now! See you around!" Snape waved before turning on his heel and sprinting back to the doors.

On his way back out of the dining room, Severus, in the midst of his jumbled thoughts bumped into a group of first years, nearly knocking over a smaller Slytherin boy. Panicked, he threw a single quiet apology before scurrying away, trying to find the distinct shade of blonde amongst a sea of other students filtering in and out of the hallways.

Snape sighed, gazing hopelessly outside at the building grey clouds and the approaching autumn storms. Then down his eyes went, surveying the black, uneven line of the Forbidden Forest, dark and compact, cold yet now familiar.

Chapter Text

The slip up inside the forest was...admittedly not the smartest thing Acher has done.

He couldn't help it, faced with a terrifying(though in retrospect beautiful and fascinating) creature the fire came out naturally, the flames flaring underneath the harsh sting of panic as easily as a scream.

When they finally left the forest Acher was hit with the embarrassing realization that he could've totally just gone for a standard Lumos and dealt with the creature just fine. Well, what was done was done, now he was just left with the consequences.

Mainly Severus Snape.

The potions fanatic has not let up since that night. It seemed he was dead set on finding out exactly how Tallhill's little trick worked, not convinced with any of the flippant explanations he was provided. Severus was, to give him credit, notoriously curious and determined. So determined in fact that he felt the need to try to bodily corner Acher nearly everyday since the incident, going as far as to look for him in between classes and even try to catch him leaving their dorm before sunrise.

The hidden passages he and Struhanka had been finding came in handy when dealing with that.

His cat had been showing more and more of her natural intelligence as she grew older. The naturally curious animal was a master at finding small, seemingly innocuous spots in the castle that led to small tunnels and hidden passageways that mice and other critters seemed to love to use to get around the massive structure. Because of her magical heritage, she also had a sort of sixth sense, able to weed out where the stone and wood was soaked in the arcane, where runes were laid out under layers of dust and tiny hinges kept in secrets.

That's partially how Acher ended up finding the mushrooms Snape needed for the potion.

A whole batch of them grew deep within the wet and cold underground hallway you could only get to by crawling in-between a suit of armour's legs on the first floor where a small latch was present at the supporting wall. Struhanka found that particular latch but was not able to open it so she proceeded to stand on top of Acher's head with her full body weight until he got out of bed to help her with it.

The fungi grew out between the squeeze of two stone slabs, the thin line of moist earth still present between them, enough for the mushrooms to completely take over that part of the wall, fanning out in a majestic, white arch.

Struhanka was admittedly not very interested in the mushrooms and ended up meowing incessantly at Acher as he harvested them like it was his fault there weren't any mice or bugs around for her to play with.

Spoilt wretched creature she was. Acher loved her to bits.

Those same hidden hallways were the exact places Tallhill used later on to evade Snape. Well, he couldn't use the ones in the more populated hallways but then he would simply use the multum of students present as a distraction, blending in with the other kids around him.

He just...didn't know what he was supposed to say to Snape. "Oh hey, yeah I've actually been practicing wandless magic ever since I was like a couple months old. Yeah, crazy am I right? That fire hand thing? I can just do that on the fly, no biggie." The other would absolutely not take an answer like that.

He'd have to come up with something more convincing to pacify him but it was a bit hard to do so when so much of his energy was spent making sure he was out of the others sight.

Potions was a mess. Though thankfully in a rare strike of productivity and adult discipline Slughorn actually made them brew their potions in relative silence for the time being, scolding anyone for having conversation during activities. That didn't stop Severus from sending him glares that were nearly acidic in quality during every brewing session though. Thankfully Acher was the one with the knife most of the time as he was doing all the chopping.

Acher sighed, rocking forward and back on top of the sturdy branch of a large pear tree as he stared out into the murky distance. Clouds were building on the horizon once more, blackening the sky behind the thin hoops of the quidditch pitch. Then again in Britain it was like they never truly left, lingering at the premises even on the sunniest of days.

The pear he was sitting on was a large, gangly yet thickly leafed tree, bending slightly sideways as if at some point nearly tugged out of the earth by some great wind, its bend bark and branches frozen in time at an awkward arch. It was clearly influenced by magic as it was unnaturally tall and thick for its kind, reaching past a lot of the other trees and providing a great view for anyone determined enough to climb up. Literally the only reason Acher even knew it was a pear was because the fruit was in season, the small, wild pears hanging from the branches, flushed a deep yellow-green and freckled with browns and oranges.

Tallhill eagerly bit into the ripest one he could find, humming at the subtle sweetness and slight tartiness. He grimaced as some of the juice trickled down, staining his cerulean blue sweater in dark, wet patches.

"This is what I get for eating a pear without at least ten tissues laying about." He whispered, gnawing into the fruit to suck on the slightly sour core.

It was late October and the chill had already begun to set it, the cold wind a reminder of the upcoming winter months. Some of the trees started shedding their leaves, others just turning orange and red, panting the landscape around the castle a deep sunset even when the sky remained grey and clouded.

A small, innocuous bird flutter down from the sky, its light, feathery body emitting no sound even as it landed next to Acher on the branch.

"Hi Rytier." Tallhill greeted, not taking his eyes away from the pear as he figured out where to bite next.

"Hello hatchling." The other replied, shuffling over and placing his tiny, bird head against the blondes thigh with a sigh.

Acher blinked, looking down at the small creature. "You okay?" It was hard to read any of Maly Rytier's facial expressions on account of his...birdness and apparent lack of virtually any facial muscles. But he did look visibly more ruffled, his feathers not as smooth and put together as they used to be.

"Tired... The back pain keeps me awake at night, the moon has been too bright." The tiny bird replied.

"Can birds even have back pain?" Tallhill mused but still scooped up the bird from where he was leaning on his thigh, instead cradling him in his palm. Rytier did not take to the comment, instead laying demurely in his hand as if soaking up the warmth. "You need some food in you." Acher put the pear closer to his friend. Rytier eyed it for a couple seconds before lightly pecking at the white flesh of the fruit, taking a couple small bites.

"Just don't eat the seeds, they are toxic." The blonde whispered, not knowing exactly why. He simply watched as his small friend took tiny chunks of the food. Leaves rustled around them as another bound of wind blew through the tightly coiled branches, the matt expanse of the grey sky peeking through the gaps in the yellowed canopy.

The tree creeked ever so slightly and like an echo the other smaller ones around them did as well, pulled by the harsh winds.

Tallhill watched as the feathers on Rytier's back puffed up against the air, the movement of his tiny ribcage raising the tuffs of fluff up and down with every breath.

Acher brought up his thumb and lightly stroked the feathers back into position, trying to align them back the way he used to remember them being all the way back during his childhood.

"It's going to be a cold winter." Rytier mused, looking up into the sky before gazing at the horizon and the rolling clouds.

"As cold as the previous one?" Acher asked.

"Yes, but less hectic."

The blonde smiled. "Like you would know, you're just going to migrate away before it even happens."

Rytier bristled, throwing back his head as if shrugging his shoulders.

Acher laughed quietly, the sound soft under his breath. Blonde curls fanned across his features, tiny hairs straying from the hairclip attached to the back of his mane as the wind played with them like strings.

"What about spring?" He asked. "Any predictions on that?"

To this the bird paused, looking at him suddenly before gazing once again at the clouds. He stayed quiet for a long time before answering. "I don't know..."

"That's a first." Acher frowned. "You love spring, don't you Rytier?"

"I do." He agreed. "I wish everyday was spring. No more pesky snow or cold winds."

"Isn't that a thought..."

And they both gazed at the horizon in silence, Acher finishing his pear in quiet contemplation. He stared at the barren core when the flesh around it was gone, the center of the fruit glistening with moisture under the mellow light.

The blonde pulled his magic down his arm and carefully weaned it out of his fingers, injecting the tiny tendrils into the fleshy object. It was cold, only the welts his teeth made in the fruit retaining a faint human warmth. He could feel the texture of the inside of the core, the harder parts of the ovarian protective casing and the small, innocuous seeds kept within it.

But most importantly he felt moisture.

The flesh retained it just like that of a human, water pulling at each crevice, laced with the sweet juice of the fruit, sticky to the touch.

Acher felt his magic cool at the thought, the tips of his fingers chilling along with it.

He clenched his jaw, pulling at the moisture present within the fruit, willing it up and out. The process was like pulling teeth. By the time small droplets welled up at the surface of the core Acher felt exhausted.

Yet he kept going.

The boy pulled the water out, tiny beads of moisture following his finger like a pearl necklace
Shifting, the droplets glimmered as they combined and separated from one another, no bigger than dew upon a string of spiderweb.

"Magic will never fail to amaze me..." Rytier whispered, watching Acher work.

"Here..." Tallhill put the string over his tiny friend, smiling when the bird eagerly began drinking the small, sweet drops. "You need to stay hydrated."

When the juice ended Acher could finally exhale, pulling his magic back into his core with a sigh. "What a racket, this is so much harder than fire..."

"Looks like even magic is on a spectrum huh? Not all of the elements are equal in difficulty." His tiny friend acknowledged.

Tallhill nodded mutely, staring in thought at the dried out pear core in hand, the waste now taking on a muddy, brown-grey color. He had been practicing with water for the past few weeks, albeit sparingly, too focused on trying to get back into the rhythm of classes and homework. He soon realized just how massive the gap between learning fire and water really was. A fair thing, seeing as the two of them were the definition of opposite, but non the less it was disheartening.

There seemed to be a startling difference between manipulating water and making water yourself. Water made out of his own magic listened much more readily, was more demure and cooperative, where as water that came from the outside seemed borderline resistant. He needed to grab at it, putting more and more energy into shaping it the way he wanted it to be. And as it turned out grabbing water with your magic was just as hard as doing it with your bare hands.

Acher dropped the rest of the pear, allowing it fall down to the base of the tree where it disappeared amongst the grass. He looked at his hand, palm up and willed his magic to once again travel down his arm, cooling as it went. Water welled at the crease of his palm, tiny beads of clear liquid combining into a small amount that sat demurely in his hand, seeping out of his skin like sweat yet clear as dew.

Rytier was sitting with his eyes closed at the base of Tallhill's thigh, napping against his stomach. Acher did not dare to wake him, trying to minimize his shifting as you not agitate the old man.

He bent the water in his hand, willing it to rise from his palm up like a snake entranced by a flute, twirling in the air. It was strange, it felt as if his magic was the water, he could barely distinguish the two.

A soft tapping interrupted his pondering. Rain began falling from the sky, water droplets hitting the thick canopy around him with tiny thunks. Tallhill gazed at the sky between the crowded leaves, watching as a moderate shower drizzled from the thick, dark grey clouds, the droplets large yet sparser than a downpour. Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance, too far away to be but a deep murmur devoid of any lighting.

A singular droplet of fresh rain slid down a thick leaf above the blonde and plopped softly into his outstretched hand, combining into the water already there.

Acher startled, gazing at his hand with wide eyes.

He poked around it curiously. The boy felt a slight disturbance in his magic, but overall it felt almost the same as before. Cautiously he lift the water again and once more the clear tendril of liquid rose, its movement smooth, no more heavy or difficult to operate than before.

"So...I need to combine it?" Acher whispered, feeling much like a tortured scientist finally discovering the answer to an equation, or at least getting closer to discovering said answer.

He gathered more of the rain water in his palm, catching it as it slid down the canopy. When the tendril got too heavy he increased the amount of water made out of his magic and strength would return to him nearly instantly. The liquid pillar bent and wriggled like a worm, catching the water like a third limb, incorporating it seamlessly into its clear, shimmering body like an icicle melting in reverse.

When there was more than enough water Acher's magic acted as if on its own, taking the mass of liquid and twisting it around its axis, bending and molding each little drop until the base thinned and the top ballooned outward, creating a layered, flower bud structure. A water lily bloomed in his palm, crystal clear and twinkling at the edges like the surface of a pond.

He watched it, mesmerized. The reflection of the water cast long, white lights against his face, the liquid holding an ethereal quality he had not yet bore witness to. The flower rocked from side to side, its surface rippling and constantly changing. He felt it. The non stop shift of liquid matter as if he himself was but a molecule swaying around in the flowers body.

It scared him a little, but more so he felt excitement and an overwhelming kind of...want.

He brought his hand up from beneath the flower and grabbed at the bud with his full palm. The water squelched and began bubbling, tendrils of water escaping between his fingers as they sucked into themselves and ballooned out, multiplying and escaping. Like a network of roots the liquid spilled across the air, shimmering as it combined and separated into smaller and bigger drops. His magic fed into it, the water from the sky cought in the arcane amalgamation forming at his fingertips was combined in like fuel. Acher didn't think, he let the core of his power mindlessly spew itself forward and out of him, forming whatever it wanted. He watched silently as the water climbed around him, not unlike a spiderweb or perhaps a colony of fungi, unrestricted and untamed, the wild twists of the liquid like a language that translated the shape of his soul.

Acher felt a shift against his stomach and dropped the control he had over the spell like a hot potato. The liquid ceased expanding and fell limply just as any would, splashing against the lower leaves and branches, dribbling freely down the tree along with the rain.

The blonde looked down but Rytier was still asleep, his small feathered friend napping with his tiny head pushed against Acher's pudgy stomach that seemed to be serving as great pillow.

He exhaled deeply, his hand falling limply at his side. Tired, he tilted his head up, gazing longingly at the dark horizon painting the world outside the canopy. The rain kept falling yet the winds blew much less viciously.

Beads of water caught at his hair, dew twinkling at his eyelashes, his shoulders soaked from the rain dribbling through the branches. Ozone wafted thick in the air, bringing out the heady scent of fallen leaves and damp bark.

Acher looked on at the line of the world where the strip of the earth met the wide dome of the sky and wondered whether or not that place was somewhere one could go. To touch both the plains and heaven. He stayed gazing at it, motionless, until the rain stopped falling and the gentle arch of a faraway rainbow caught in the water trapped at his eyelashes and refracted in his vision into a thousand different colors.

[...]

Snape really didn't know how he got himself into this situation.

The Slytherin before him was clearly a first year, meaning, he was definitely not as intimidating as all those Slytherin 5th and 6th years who kept sending him disgusted or pitying looks. He did not tower over him, in fact, he was basically the same height as Snape himself which greatly decreased how intimidating he was.

Neither height nor age mattered though when the differences between them were this stark. The other was a pureblood, with his long silky hair and perfectly tailored clothes, an elegant dragon skin wand holster strapped to his forearm clearly costing more than Severus's entire wardrobe.

It was not a mystery who held all the power between the two of them.

"Listen I'm sorry, I really didn't know. I don't even remember doing it! Please can you just let me go?" Snape muttered, wringing his hands together.

They were standing to the side of an empty hallway, the pureblood in front of him flagged by two other boys. They borderline ambushed him while he was trying to get down for dinner, stupidly taking the longer yet less crowded way through the castle.

"Pretending you don't remember won't solve your problems." The pureblood to the left of the group drawled, a cruel smirk playing at his lips. He knew perfectly well Snape wouldn't be able to deny any sort of accusations.

"I really don't-"

"Poor Black here needed to go to Pomfrey afterward." He motioned to the boy at the center. "You're really trying to imply you pushed him this hard on accident?"

Severus nodded frantically.

"Liar." The other hissed with a wide smile.

Snape barely even remembered pushing anyone over before recalling that he did indeed bump into someone while looking for Tallhill a couple weeks earlier. But he certainly did not do it as hard as to cause any sort of injury! These guys were just playing with him, they saw an opportunity to make fun of a half blood and they jumped on it like sharks.

As pathetic as his groveling was on the outside Severus was absolutely seething inside, his jaw clenching so hard he feared his teeth might pop.

"Because of you I scratched up my favorite day shoes." The boy in the center, Black, scoffed. "How much can you offer me in return?"

"What?" Snape gaped.

"You heard me." He razed an elegant eyebrow. His expression was so snobbish and self righteous Snape wanted to do nothing more than incinerate it. "Those cost a hefty gallon and are a present which means they are more valuable."

"I...don't have any money..."

Black huffed. "Of course you don't." He looked up and down at Snape, before snorting. The boy to his left, a curly brunette, laughed loudly where as the boy to Blacks right simply stared at his nails in abject boredom.

They didn't even have an audience yet Snape felt embarrassed enough to wish he could blend into the wall behind him.

"Can we go already?" The bored boy whined suddenly, looking up from his fingers at the two others.

The brunette scoffed. "You're such a stick in the mud Crouch."

Black rolled his eyes and took out his wand from the holster.

Snape didn't even have time to react before a hex hit him straight in the chest, causing a painful rash to spread across his midsection. He yelped and clutched at his shirt.

The trio left, leaving Severus to pick himself slowly back up. He grumbled under his breath, teeth grinding together in barely restrained anger. "Stupid little first year brats-" he hissed. "I'll make you drink frog bile, just you wait. Ugh, bloody hell." The boy massaged his aching chest. Hopefully the rash won't stay there for too long, he had assignments to do and he wasn't keen on writing a charms paper with his hand down his shirt the entire time.

Sighing the Slytherin made his way down the corridor as he originally intended, his face contorted into a downright painful frown as he walked through the eastern hallway down to the first level of the castle.

He could already hear the multum of students gathering in front of the dining hall in the distance, their whispers and conversations blending in together into an incomprehensible murmur.

Snape took a turn and nearly collided into someone.

"Ah- for Merlin's sake-" he hissed, frustrated out of his mind thinking he was going to have to take another hex for stepping on some prissy pureblood's shoes. He steadied and looked up, only to be met with Tallhill's shell shocked face. Severus blinked a couple times, gaping as if seeing a unicorn in broad daylight. The blonde snapped out of his stupor first, pulling away as if to bolt in the opposite direction. Snape didn't let him. He jumped forward like a viper and snatched Achers uniform tie, halting his movements like a dog on a leash. The curly blonde wheezed and staggered forward, his eyes wide like saucers.

"Don't you dare." Snape hissed, already at the end of his tether.

Tallhill snapped his jaw shut with an audible click and looked to the side guiltily.

Snape dragged him by his tie in the opposite direction of the dining hall, the two of them emerging out of the castle by one of the smaller entrances that lead to one of the large courtyards that connected multiple hallways together. Trees grew there in abundance, casting shade onto a large, stone fountain filled with still water and dead leaves. Birds scattered from around the little pond as he and Tallhill walked through the courtyard to one of the more private areas.

Severus pushed the blonde into a small alcove inlaid into the wall of the castle, only a lone overgrown statue missing a head filling in the small gap.

"Well." Snape crossed his arms. "What a surprise for us to bump into each other today. You'd think if we live in the same room we would be seeing one another more often."

"Right." The blonde muttered, his eyes straying to the statue behind him as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"You've been avoiding me."

"Perhaps..."

"Perhaps??" Snape hissed through gritted teeth. "Oh no Tallhill, we went into that forest together, both of us. You can't just drop me now as if nothing happened." He moved closer, pushing the other further into the alcove. "That fire, Tallhill, I want to know what it is and how you did it without even using your wand. What was it? Some kind of potion? A rune? A bloody magical animal?"

The blonde bit onto the inside of his cheek, dark eyes sliding to the sparse foliage covering the ground. He exhaled quietly and brought his hand up.

Snape watched, mesmerized at a flame flickered along the boys index fined, orange-yellow and giving a small yet palpable heat.

Acher twisted his hand in the air but the fire stayed upright just as any flame, climbing along his skin and up to the knuckle where it began spreading to the boys other digits. A small, thin hiss could be heard, similar to when you light up a match. The light of it spread along the blondes features and ignited his hair into a golden glow as he was hunched over the flame, cradling it like an infant. He looked like a statue or perhaps the icon of a saint, hair fanned around his head like a halo. In that light he looked that much bigger, that much more powerful than Snape could even hope to be.

Tallhill clenched his palm shut and the fire was extinguished with an eerie crack, small sparks flying out from beneath his fingers. Snape flinched back as the spell was broken.

"It's wandless magic." The blonde admitted, his face plunged back into the faint darkness of the stone alcove, expression blank "I command my magic to light itself along my skin like petrol. That's all there is to it." He looked at Snape, his eyes hard. "Is this what you wanted to hear from me, Severus?"

Snape swallowed the thick saliva that had built up at the back of his throat, looking up at the other cautiously. The blonde merely gazed back at him, his eyes dark and endless like two dots of pure charcoal. There was something strangely regal about him, poised and self assured despite his permanently hunched back and messy windswept hair, his tie crooked along his second-hand robes.

Tallhill would not run away from or cower beneath those pureblood boys that harassed Snape earlier. Severus wasn't even sure if such a thing could be done to the blonde who stood before him as unmovable as a mountain.

Acher was not ashamed of his mixed blood. Not even a tiny bit.

He had power and he knew it.

"Please teach me!" The words tore themselves out of Snape's mouth before he could even go over and evaluate them in his head. His face redden horribly but he stood his ground.

Tallhill's eyes widened, it looked strange on his face. "What...?"

"Teach me that trick you just did! The fire." Severus repeated.

Confused, as if such a scenario had never even crossed his mind Acher looked around with a lost expression, yet seeing only stone walls and spiderwebs his eyes returned to the smaller Slytherin, cautiously as if it would prompt another request.

Snape's palms had gone hot and clammy at his sides, his teeth chewing at the sides of his tongue in his mouth the more the uncomfortable silence stretched on. Was this the moment he would get punched and told to piss off? Has Tallhill finally grown tired of him?

The blonde exhaled quietly before shrugging his shoulders, his eyes turning upwards towards the grey sky. "Sure, I guess."

Chapter Text

"You know, you're gonna pop a blood vessel if you keep going like that."

Acher looked at Snape sideways from underneath his fringe that had tumbled across his forehead in a wild heap of gold. The blonde was laying with his back against a ratty, checker print table cloth that was serving them as a picnicking blanket. Disemboweled shells of pistachios were strewn around him, a pocket of them having formed on his stomach where the wizard discarded the thin shells after gnawing out their insides and licking off the crusted salt. 

Snape sat next to him, his body tense like a bowstring, face nearly purple with how hard he was concentrating, clenching his hands until the knuckles turned white. 

The two boys were outside, not exactly the ideal time to be out on a picnic seeing as it was the dead of autumn and bordering on winter but the activities they were performing may not have been exactly fully classroom safe. 

"This is- just- I'll do it! It's because you keep distracting me!" Severus snapped, letting go of his concentration in favor of punching the ground with his knobby hands, sending the strewn pistachios flying. 

Acher raised his hands defensively. Snape was really getting hung up on the fact he was having a hard time with wandless magic. Not that Tallhill viewed the boy as spoiled, simply that he was clearly naturally gifted at magic so in that department struggle was something he was clearly not used to.  

The blonde blew a lock of curly hair out of his face, taking another pistachio into his mouth as he watched the Slytherin close his eyes again. He'll give him another five minutes until he's ready to ask for help again. No use in poking an irritated snake. 

It was the beginning of November, Halloween having passed with relatively to no issues, that is, besides the young potions professor nipping at Acher's heels every chance he got. The trees had fully flushed orange and yellow, turning brown and thin before twirling to the ground, blending in with the dried, damp grass. A chill had fully set in the air, the skies becoming greyer and the winds more cutting. Acher himself was bundled up in a thick sweater with a hoodie on top (a combination Snape found particularly egregious) with two pairs of pants and what was probably hiking boots that were rapidly becoming too small for his growing feet. Severus on the other hand was more than willing to wear the winter version of his uniform, completely dismissing the notion of dressing in something different for any occasion. 

Life felt a bit more bizarre now, not that it ever did feel particularly normal. Yet having somebody there besides Struhanka and maybe occasionally his mother was strange. Snape bothered him, he asked questions he wanted to know more and more about how exactly Tallhill did the things he did. The blonde did tell him, maybe not about everything but he did reveal more than he usually would.

Snape was...his student in a way. 

Acher broke apart the pistachio with his front teeth, spitting out the empty shells.

Snape groaned loudly, fisting his hair as he once again broke out of his concentration.

Maybe not a very successful student but a student non the less.

The two of them sat in silence for some time, Acher staring up at the grey, afternoon sky, stray leaves sometimes fluttering about in the wind. 

A heavy sigh came from the Slytherin next to him before the boy muttered. "I need..."

"Hm?" Tallhill asked, eyes falling back onto the scrawny boy.

Severus' face was horribly red. "I need help." He spat out as if the words themselves were sour.

The blonde looked back up towards the sky. "Hm, I have a feeling you're not visualizing enough."

"I am visualizing plenty!" Snape insisted but soon fell silent, pouting and looking down at the ground.

"I don't know mate, it worked for me." Acher shrugged then sighed. "You know, maybe that's the problem. Maybe for you the things that I did will simply not work and we need a different plan of action."

"Like what?"

"Uhh..." The blonde blanked. "Like um... I don't know actually..." That was the thing, there didn't seem to be really any other way you could learn wandless magic, at least Acher wasn't familiar with them. He had a natural proclivity to it due to being born as an already conscious being, tapping into his magical core naturally as the connection between it and the mind seemed to be more tangible at a younger age. A little bit like the way toddlers acquired new languages way more easily than adults, so too did Acher acquire a lot of magical abilities as a mere babe.

Snape didn't have that advantage. Sure, he may have grown up with a mother who was a witch but he was a fairly normal, if smart, baby. 

Unlike Acher, who was by all means a freak.

But Dumbledore could do some wandless magic, if the movies were anything to go by, and he was surely not a reincarnate. Which means he must know something about acquiring the skill. Then again he is an old, old man, and Snape was probably not very keen on being able to perform the most basic of wandless spells at the age of a hundred. Plus it's not like the guy would go around teaching the skill all willy nilly, he's not even a teacher anymore after all and certainly has more interesting things to do like run the school. 

So this left...who exactly?

Minerva? Flitwick? Slughorn?

He grimaced. At this rate he himself would be a more suitable candidate for the wandless magic expert title. 

But that's the thing, "expert" implied some level of innate knowledge that could be passed onto other people. Could Tallhill even consider himself that, if he could not actually explain the basics of his craft beyond 'imagine hard and hope for the best'? 

He sighed, rising to a sitting position and causing the little mountain of pistachio shells to tumble sideways. Snape grimaced and rolled his eyes at the mess.

Acher looked into the boys dark optics, crowded by thick hair and even thicker eye bags. The wind shifted, blowing some of the boy's thick locks across his forehead. 

"Are you sure you want to keep trying to do this?" Tallhill asked.

Blinking, Snape gave him an unimpressed glare. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Like...wouldn't you rather do something else?" 

"Like what!?" 

"Uhh...potions? You're good at that right?" The blonde shrugged. 

"I'll have you know potions is not the only thing I am interested in." Snape crossed his arms. 

Yeah becoming Voldemort's minion seemed to be his other hobby apparently. Acher exhaled and leaned back on his hands, it was clear Snape would not let this thing go. For a person that grew up in such a terrible environment he sure did have a lot of determination and quite the big ego. 

"Unless of course you began listening to all those rumors that have been floating about me." Snape suddenly said. 

"Rumors...?"

"Snape the greasy dungeon bat, all he cares about are potions." His face twisted, ugly and ashamed. "Snape the poor, ugly goblin, filthy Slytherin mudblood." 

"Uh...I certainly never thought that. Promise." Acher said. "I don't think potions are the only thing you care about. You're just very talented at them, so I thought they would interest you more."

"I don't come here just to learn about only one thing." Severus snapped. "And you and I have made a deal, according to which you teach me your special form of wandless magic and I repay you afterward."

Acher's lips thinned. Ah, the repayment. It was a tricky thing as Acher really didn't need anything from Snape, therefore Severus did not have to hold up his end of the deal. It seemed however, that the young potioneer was not taking Tallhill's rejection for an answer. He kept bugging him about what he wanted to which Acher could only really shrug and lift his eyebrows. 

This was a mess. Acher could only sigh and flop back down onto the blanket, pistachio shells scattering around him. He shoved his hand into the little baggie at his side and pulled out more of them, snapping the shells between his teeth. His lips had long gone pruney from the salt but he swiped his tongue across them anyways. 

"Let's keep going." The blonde sighed again. "Clear your mind will you? I can feel your thoughts from here."

Snape scoffed and they returned back to the exercise, practicing until the late evening by which point Severus' face had flushed completely purple and shriveled like a prune. 

His relationship with the other Slytherin was weird and it was only developing to be weirder as time went on. The colder months leading to Christmas seemed to drag on forever with somebody at his side. Everyday it was something else, Snape jumped from discussing one spell to another like a bee zipping from flower to flower. It was strange seeing him that way. This imposing, dark figure of the future was nowhere to be seen. Instead, it was a kid, small and malnourished, with greasy hair and crooked teeth, carrying this air of being perpetually uncomfortable in his own skin. 

Snape was prideful, and he didn't take Acher's reluctant behavior very well. He was also hilariously skittish around Acher's cat, Struhanka. Who hilariously seemed to have noticed that and did everything in her power to torment the small Slytherin whenever she got the chance to.

"What is she doing?" Snape questioned, his voice high with fear as Struhanka climbed on top of his lap. He and Acher were sitting on the blonde's bed. Well, Severus was sitting, with Tallhill sprawled out on the pillows next to him like a dying seal, scribbling notes on the edges of his notebook. 

Acher peaked at Snape from the corner of his book. "She's trying to lay on you." 

"There's no way she will fit, she'll crush my thighs!" Snape retorted, craning his body back as if the cat would burn him. Struhanka took no offense to it, making biscuits across his legs, her purring louder than an engine. 

"She's not that big." Acher said.

"Ugh- wha-" Severus squeaked as the cat trotted even closer, pushing her face into his chest.

"Just let it happen, the sooner you relax the sooner she'll leave you alone."

Snape hissed. "There's hair all over me!" 

"Of course. It's her shedding season." 

"Is her shedding season all year round then? Your uniform is always covered in hair!" 

"Is it?" 

"Wha- Don't you realize anything? Greengrass had made fun of it throughout the entire first year!" He threw his hands up. 

"Who's Greengrass?" Acher squinted.

For a second they just sat in silence, Snape giving him the most unbearable look. Then the potioneer scoffed. "Forget it." Before his face was suddenly full of fur."Uwp- What on Salazar is she doing now!?" He panicked as the white creature nuzzled the entire side of her face across his mouth and nose, her whiskers nearly poking his eye. 

"Scenting you, I presume. The scent glands are on the sides of their face, she's marking you as her own." Acher explained, motioning to the sides of his own face.

Struhanka began licking Snape's nose. "It's prickly!" The boy exclaimed.

"Cats have tiny needles on their tongues to make flesh tearing more efficient." 

Snape looked about ready to faint with how pale he got.

"Haven't you ever had a cat?" Acher asked. 

Struhanka went back to nuzzling Snape's chest, giving the boy some much needed space. "My parents would never agree to own anything." He sighed. "But my neighbour has one. Wretched creature. Dark orange and fatter than a pig, it's a wonder that cat can even walk. As soon as you get close to it it swipes at you with its paws like it's possessed." 

"Surely there are other pets around." Tallhill muttered, turning to another page. 

"You're underestimating how bad Cokeworth is." Snape scoffed. 

Silence fell, and Tallhill got the distinct feeling that Severus was waiting for him to say something. When he didn't, Snape took it as a cue to continue.

"That town is a total shithole." He said with the awkward tone of a child not used to uttering profanities. "Everything in it is either dying or dead. The river is filled with trash and all the houses look the same. More of them are abandoned than lived in..." He shrugged. "I guess there are crows sometimes... They eat out of the garbage piles and sit on the telephone poles..." He reached up slowly, as if scared Struhanka would chomp his limb off. When she didn't and his fingers touched her white-cream colored fur he relaxed ever so slightly. "There are some better parts of it, but I don't live there. My friend does though, so I visit her sometimes."

"Your friend?"

"Lily. She's in Griffindor, you must've seen her at some point."

Acher pursed his lips. "Oh yeah. We sat together that one time during Transfiguration..."

"Her parents are really nice. She's really nice too," he quickly added, a small blush coloring his cheeks. "But her sister is absolutely not. She's like that cat I told you about, only skinnier than a twig and she has the face of a horse." His expression jumped so fast from fondness to hatred it was a miracle he didn't get a spasm. "All she does is screech like...like a..."

"A parrot?" Ached supplied. 

"Yeah that." He waved his hand. "And she hates magic..."

"Is she a muggle?"

"Yeah."

"Hm." Tallhill hummed, fingering the edge of the page he was on. "I suppose I too would be screeching like a parrot if I knew magic existed but could not do it." He looked at Snape from above his book, black eyes meeting black. "Especially if my sister had it and not me."

Severus' face looked troubled. He frowned, before breaking eye contact with him and gazing down at Struhanka who was enjoying his languid, careful pets. 

"You have a sister?" Snape asked after a couple seconds of silence. 

"Nah." 

Snape huffed, out of amusement or frustration Ached wasn't sure. 

"Ouch!" Severus' exclaimed, the cat having bitted him on the chin. "What was that for!?" He lamented to the apathetic creature before she was once again rubbing her tiny face all over his shirt, leaving trails of white hair behind like a dandelion spreading its seeds. "And now she's nuzzling me-? Tallhill, your cat is broken!" 

"That's just how she shows affection." He shrugged. "I suppose you and her are similar in that way..."

To his absolute amusement Severus puffed up in anger, exactly like a cat before reaching back and striking Acher with one of his own pillows.

"See, that's what I'm talking about-"

"Shut up!!" 

Snape was a tough student, which was ironic considering how much the future him seemed to despise that exact kind of person. Though admittedly Acher did not make it easier for him by only being able to give him vague advice based on his own experience. 

"It should come from within your core, Snape. Not from your fingers, stop looking at them." Ached chastised the boy. They were sitting at the back of an empty classroom, off in the west wing of the castle. A sizable skeleton of some kind of bird hung from the ceiling, dusty earth globes and animals preserved in jars lined the old shelves. 

Snape hissed and curled in on himself where he was sitting in front of Acher. They had pulled chairs from one of the desks and placed them opposite each other.. "I'm trying! I told you already I'm trying!" The Slytherin groaned, his eyes snapping open to shoot a poisonous glare at the blonde. "Ugh! What is it that you see exactly!?"

Ached shrugged, slumped on his chair and head tipped back. "I don't see anything. I feel it, I know it. It's like a fifth limb to me." 

"Fifth limb...fifth limb..." Snape muttered, massaging the sides of his skull before he brought his hand in front of him. 

"Drop your hand Snape. You're still trying to do something with it." Ached chastised him. 

He dropped it, before completely pushing his face into his palms. "No...no I can't fail..." He whined. 

"Snape." Acher sighed. "We've been at it for hours by this point. I'm hungry." He dug the tip of his pinky nail into his gums. 

"It's barely been two hours!" 

"Exactly." The blonde said, standing up. "Papa needs his nourishment."

"Ew, don't talk like that." Snape cringed. 

They walked out of the classroom and down the adjacent hallway. "Where are we going exactly? The dining hall is downstairs, besides, supper has already passed." Severus' arched his brow, keeping pace with Acher having long adjusted to the blonde's walking speed. 

"Yeah." 

"And you seriously need to eat more? Where does it all go?" Snape squinted.

Acher patted his stomach with the love of an expecting mother.

Severus' pursed his lips. "Maybe you should lay off the biscuits for a while." 

"And maybe you should start eating more than salads and bread. You barely touched the chicken today." The blonde pushed his hands into his pant pockets.

McGonagall got him this year again, practically dragging him by a leash into the dining hall. In her words "Only a shared meal can truly make you appreciate the people in your life, Mr Tallhill.". How exactly sitting next to Severus and watching him eat basically the same things every day would make him appreciate the potioneer more was beyond him. Thankfully Snape was understanding enough to go to the meals early and leave quickly, sparing Acher the torture of having to sit through a full meal surrounded by screaming and laughing children.

"I don't like chicken." Snape muttered. "I hate the way it feels." 

Acher looked up at the ceiling. "Hm...I get that. It does have an unnerving texture sometimes. Especially when you bite down on that one vein."

"Ugh, don't remind me." Snape cringed. 

Snape's wretching quieted down as soon as Acher tickled the pear on the portrait and they entered the kitchen. There were only a couple elves still inaide, washing dishes and putting things back in place, a few off then prepping vegetables for the next day.

"We can eat something here." Acher said. 

"Wait..." Snape looked around in astonishment. "Wait- is this where you've been eating all this time?" 

"Whenever I can help it. McGonagall has been trying to change that but she can't be watching me all the time." The blonde shrugged. 

"McGonagall? Why on earth is she watching over you?" 

"Beats me." Acher spotted an old, willowy elf bent over a dirty pot, scrubbing the metal clean with a large sponge. "Hi Kipsy!" 

Said elf turned to him, giving him an unimpressed but overall passive look "Ah It's you, little master." His blue eyes moved down beside him. "And a companion of yours?"

"Yes," Acher nodded, walking up to him. "Truth is Kipsy, I've been wondering if him and I could make something for ourselves in the kitchen." 

"Pipsy would not be happy about this." Kipsy pointed out. 

"She doesn't need to know." Tallhill pointed out. "Come onnn, just me and him, we'll be done before you know it." 

The elf looked at him skeptically before shrugging. "Do what you will, little master."

"Come on Snape." The blonde beckoned him over to the nearest fridge, opening to rummage through the contents. 

"You know the house elves?" Snape questioned. 

"Know may be a strong word." Acher admitted, looking over a whole vine of grapes. "I'm acquainted with a couple." He bent to fish something out of a lower shelf. "There's some cream, we can make chicken Alfredo. Or broccoli Alfredo, if that's more your taste." He gave Snape a knowing look. 

"Sure..." The Slytherin flushed.

[...]

They played chess at one point, when the weather got too cold and the snow fell again barring them from going outside. There was a communal set in the common room, old but still functional. It didn't go well. Snape thought the game to be pointless and Acher was more interested in how the pieces moved to pay proper attention to whatever Severus was doing. This resulted was him accidentally uncovering his king multiple times and getting defeated instantly. 

They moved on to cards but Acher was sidetracked with making a house instead of playing and all of it somehow devolved into Snape doing poorly executed magic tricks. 

"Is this your card?" He showed the queen of spades to Acher with a smug look.

The two of them were laying on the couch at the far end of the common room, the lake behind the nearby window clouded, glass cold to the touch. The light was dim and a low, grey-green, the frigid air accompanied by the smell of ink and wet stone.

Acher squinted hard at the card.

"Don't tell me you forgot again what your card was." Snape looked at him blankly.

"Okay." The blonde nodded and shut his mouth. 

Snape threw his hands into the air. "Tallhill, you know that that's not what I mean when I say 'don't tell me'!" 

"Okay, yes this is my card."

"...are you lying?" Severus' gave Acher an even more unimpressed look. "I know when you are lying Tallhill, you give me the same dead-eyed fish stare every time." 

Acher blinked as if trying to stop himself from giving Snape that exact look but his eyelids worked individually, going up and down like that of a lizard. 

"Whatever, let's say this is your card then." Severus sighed. 

Acher looked at it for a long minute, pursing his lips in thought before admitting: "Actually I kind of forgot what rules were, like, can you repeat to me what the whole trick was about?" 

Snape groaned and flopped backwards, inadvertently making all the cards stuffed into his sleeve slip out and fall to the floor, right next to the previously discarded chess board. 

[...]

The amount of study material accelerated as time went on, homework piling up as the days became shorter and shorter. Christmas was slowly but surely approaching however, and still some time was made after class for less studious activities. 

"It's so cold..." Snape whispered, looking up into the sky. He was bundled up top to bottom in a rickety old coat, his greasy hair stuffed under several layers of hood and his bottom face hidden behind a frayed, black scarf. He was shivering all over like a leaf in the wind.  

Acher stuck out his tongue, trying to catch a couple stray snowflakes that were falling languidly from the grey, afternoon sky. 

"Tallhill, don't eat those, you don't know what might be in them." Snape huffed. 

Acher, instead of arguing only shrugged, readjusting his baby pink gloves. They were a Present from miss Pines, and they clashed terribly with his deep green pants and high collar winter jacket. The cherry on top was the hat which Tallhill shamelessly took from his mum's wardrobe. It was a bit big on his head and had a checkered black and white pattern with a big white pompom at the top. "Water, probably. There isn't much to contaminate them around here." 

Snape's eyes widened in realization. He reluctantly pulled down his scarf and stuck out his own tongue.

"You probably shouldn't do that, with how skinny you are that might just give you hipotermia." Acher noted as they walked down the obscured path down the smooth hill. The snow was thick, going up halfway to his calf. 

Snape glared at him. "I'm not that skinny."

"A strong gust would have you at the end of the Forbidden Forest." Tallhill huffed, sending a cloud of a warm steam along with the remark. 

"Well a tornado wouldn't be able to move you if it tried." Snape bit back. 

"Little twig." 

"Fat mountain." 

They walked in silence for a second before Ache caught Severus trying hard not to laugh behind his scarf. "Was it that funny?" 

"No..." 

Acher stopped in the middle of the white field, a couple meters away from the forest where the larger spider-like trees bent under the weight of the snow. 

"I've been trying some other things..." Tallhill said quietly. 

"Other things?" Snape inquired. 

"With magic." Acher admitted, taking off his gloves. "I've been, incorporating things other than fire." 

Snape jumped into the information with intrigue. "Like what?" 

"Well, water seemed like the safest bet." Tallhill said, rolling a piece of lint from his gloves between his fingers. "It's weird, but I suppose it's much more natural than fire was. Let's just say my body did not take kindly to me messing around with it." He looked down, embarrassed just at the thought of how he had almost melted himself from the inside out that one time. 

"Your hand was fine that time you did it in the forest. Was it not?" Snape asked. 

Ached showed him the other hand the one where a prominent scar lay at the center, white and jagged. 

"Oh." 

"Yeah. Water has been much tamer." He caught a snowflake in his hand, the cluster of ice melting on his palm. He made the little speck rise, incorporating it into a smaller dome of his own water beaded from his magics. 

"It's like an Aguamenti..." Severus looked at it, enthralled by Acher's abilities. 

"I tried to model off of it." He gazed around at the bundled snow. "I've been wanting to experiment with it further. With the addition of temperature water can become much more than just some liquid."

The muscles of his face flexed, nose scrunching as he willed the magic within him to stiffen, slithering out of his veins in coursed thrusts out and into the water at his palm. The tiny dome shimmered as if beaded with white sequins, rising out into the air slowly, unfurling like a tree. 

Acher's hand went down, but the water stayed, stretching out its branches as it froze over like frost on a windshield, hanging in the air. 

"I can only make so much." Tallhill whispered, feeling the effects of his magic on his body already. His arm was terribly cold and stiff, fingers locked in place. It felt a bit like when Bellatrix froze his fingers to his wand, only the biting cold was coming from the inside rather than the outside. "So little of it, yet it takes so much..."

He watches as the slim, web like branches climbed outwards, becoming so small they could barely be seen if not for their shimmer. 

It was beautiful. Ached reached out and tenderly touched the construct. It snapped, pieces of it falling through the air in miniscule shards, weightless. 

Acher turned to Snape, but found the boy looking at the disappearing threads of ice, his eyes large and pained, expression set into a deep frown that not even the scarf could cover. 

"What is it that you have and I don't...?" Snape whispered, his quiet voice loud in the overwhelming silence. The boy looked down at his hands, they were red and swollen from the cold. 

"Snape, you should've brought some gloves-"

"I tried so many times. Every night I clear my mind the way to told me to, but it doesn't work." He admitted, his fingers trembling. "I don't feel it, this magic you talk about. This fifth limb." The boy looked lost, crushed even. "Maybe I really am just a mudblood..."

"I am a mudblood too." Acher said quickly. 

Snape smiled pitifully. "...then maybe I'm not even that..."

Acher reeled forward. "Maybe water? Perhaps starting off with it would be better..."

Snape, after a couple seconds of uncertain silence lift his hands up, staring down at the reddened flesh. His muscles tensed, face twisting with exertion. The boys breathing was short and laboured, eyes glossy, gazing at the in between his palms, willing something to appear with all his might. 

His hands fell after a frustrating minute of nothing. 

"This is stupid." He mumbled, voice tight. "I don't want to do it anymore."

"It's fine..." Acher whispered. He took off his own gloves and gave it to Snape. "Wear something on them, will you? You'll get frostbite." 

Snape put on the gloves, and Ached tried hard to not look at him as he wiped his eyes clear of tears.

[...]

As with most conversations of this caliber the aftermath was, to say the least, awkward. Acher didn't know how to comfort Snape, there wasn't really anything he could say that would make the situation better. Tell him to keep practicing? What if the efforts were fruitless and would only make things worse? 

No, he kept his lips shut instead, watching as Snape attended classes with him but never stuck around to wait for him afterwards. 

Life, strangely so, returned to its previous quiet flow, like a long winding river, trailing silently along. Acher studied on his own, and his training resumed, now having more time to improve his water based abilities in the confines of the Room of Requirement. He spun circles of water, pulling the liquid into cubes and spheres, filling cups and bowls and eventually buckets. His magic beat along with his heartbeat, seeming cooler and smoother within the tender flesh of his muscles. 

Water really was more easily adaptable within him, it felt like having a second, more expansive lymphatic system. 

He practiced some more with his wand, which the cumbersome stick was overwhelmingly happy about. Sucking on his magic greedily and taking particular pleasure with each harsher spell. 

Ah, magical objects. Acher would never get used to them. 

[...]

Snape was embarrassed, frustratingly so. He had always prided himself on his innate magical adaptability and quick learning skills. Besides his natural talent for potions that was all he was ever sure of in this world. When he saw Acher doing all those tricks he jumped on the opportunity to learn with a mindless enthusiasm.

Perhaps, the idea of being able to wield such power was his unconscious effort to appear more like Tallhill, to stand just a little taller like him. This strong, imposing figure who others didn't dare to pick on and laugh at. 

Oh how much he wished he could put those pricks like Avery or Regulus in their place. The bullying had been quenched a bit ever since he started hanging out more with Tallhill but as soon as their companionship waned his tormentors jumped on it like sharks smelling blood. 

He could even count how many times he had been tripped or hexed in the past week. Someone had put some kind of sour candy in his porridge one morning, and the day after that his shoelaces were spelled together causing his swift meeting with the floor. Pomfrey had to rearrange his nose in the aftermath of that whole fiasco, luckily the injury healed fast enough he didn't bump into Acher. 

That same thing couldn't be said about Lily though.

She had interrogated him like some detective, fretting over every inch of him. Curiously, she even asked him about Tallhill with no small amount of apprehension. 

He told her vaguely they had a falling out and kept it at that, too embarrassed of his situation to say anything more. It's not that Lily would judge him, no she was too good for that, but how was he supposed to look her in the eye and admit how much he was struggling? 

Those burning coils of humiliation ignited by his previous failures sprang to life like hot coals. Squeezing his throat, burning at his eyes. 

No, no he wouldn't, he couldn't. Besides, Lily looked like she already had plenty on her plate, Snape couldn't afford to be another one of her worries.

So he left, bidding her a quiet goodbye and slipping into the opposite hallway, too quickly to have her say another word. 

A week or so kater he found himself in the library, gathering books on salve adjacent potions. He had a free period and the topic certainly seemed more interesting than whatever that damned ghost was going to tell them about wizard history next class. Might as well pick up something to read in the meanwhile. 

He found one particular tome that looked more than promising. A large, heavy set book that looked more like an atlas inscribed at the spine. "Basilicon" it read in Latin in big, slanted letters. It was squeezed in the center of a large row of other potion related books at a high shelf in the far eastern corner of the library. 

Snape tried to get it down by extending his hand and when that didn't work he tried with his wand. Again nothing. He grew frustrated, stepping onto his toes, trying everything to close the gap between him and the object.

He started considering just climbing onto the shelf before a voice startled him right out of those thoughts. 

"Can't reach?" Acher, because of course fate just had to torture Snape, was standing at the entrance to the alcove, looking up at the area Snape was reaching for. He had his hair tied back that day, or at least pulled back haphazardly into some kind of knot at the back of his neck. The school uniform laid awkwardly on him, his tie pulled in a way you'd think the creature had tried to escape from the boy while he was tying it.

To put it simply he looked almost exactly as the last time Snape had seen him, only now his appearance brought out a feeling of profound embarrassment within Snape. 

 "Isn't there a charm set up here to have the books fly down?" Acher asked, oblivious to Snape's panicking mind.

Severus opened and closed his mouth a couple times before finally gathering his wits. "This one seems to be resilient," He shrugged, looking up at the damned object. "I don't know, I think somebody glued it to the back of the shelf with a spell..."

"Hm..." Tallhill pursed his lips. "If I had a ladder maybe I'd be able to grab it."

"Oh, I know where it is." The slytherin said quickly, his mind desperate to find something to do. "I'll go get it." He said, hurrying past Acher to find the ladder he knew he had seen around the transfiguration section. 

Snape sighed as he made his way down between two mounting bookshelves, dodging piles of paper that had not yet been sorted properly. The smell of parchment and dust eased his anxiety. 

He clicked his tongue. What was he getting so worked up for anyway? Frustration grew within him but then eased as quickly as it came, he was too tired to contemplate his own inadequacies at the moment.

He soon found the ladder, poised against the side of one of the shelves, looking like it had been there for a while as a thin layer of dust had settled on its beams. Snape heaved it up and hurried back to the potions section. 

But luck, nor fate seemed to be on his side that day, with the ladder in hand obscuring half his vision Snape nearly barreled straight into two people he did not want to see the most. 

"You know you can use magic, right?" Regulus sneered, eyeing him up and down when Snape leaned the ladder onto the potion bookshelves outer side. "Hm, nevermind. I suppose someone of your heritage would not have a clue." The boy rolled his grey eyes, huffing. 

"Fuck off." Snape found himself saying, instantly regretting those words when all Regulus gave him was a pitiful snort. 

"Growing teeth?" Black snickered. 

Snape hated this, he hated all of it. He hated how when faced with the pureblood suddenly all of Snape's usual quips just seemed to evaporate from his head. What was worse was that Severus truly had no idea whether he'd be able to even come up with anything clever to insult the other with. He was so disturbingly perfect in that way, all regal features and expensive clothes. It was like a crusty mutt trying to square off against a purebred dog. 

 "Such bad manners." The boy behind Black said. Crouch, pale, with high cheekbones and reddish-brown hair, his face perpetually pulled into an annoyed frown."Not a halfblood then, no definitely not. Any respecting pure lineage would not associate themselves with this, let alone breed with something to produce it." The look he gave Snape was absolutely damning."What is it that your mother married into? That Prince woman, was it? Some kind of cave troll?"

Snape felt the rage from before grabbing at his throat. His face twisted in anger and he reached for the wand in his pocket. 

"You little-" a spell hit him in the face so harshly for a second he was convinced Black had actually struck him with his palm. His cheek was seared, and his left eye watered under the pin pricks going across his skin. Snape yelped, clutching at the side of his face.

"Damn, Reggie." He heard Crouch say above the ringing in his ear. 

The Black retaliated, his voice higher than usual. "I didn't even hit him that hard."

"That looks like some kind of burn, ugh." The boy cringed. "What was that anyways?"

"It's from my family library, I haven't used it up until now." Regulus clicked his tongue. "It's just some stinging hex-" 

Then there was a shift, the light above Snape distorting with the dark imprint of a shadow he knew quite well by this point. 

"Acher..." Snape whispered, grinding his teeth together when the sensation of his own voice made his left ear pop painfully. He looked up, keeping his eye shut to not aggravate it further, his face still burning. Acher was indeed there, standing now next to Severus, yet he was not looking at him.

Instead the boy walked up lazily to Black, disregarding his drawn wand completely. His posture was relaxed and in the lime light he looked to be eclipsing the pureblood within his shadow, his hands in the pockets of his pants. 

"You annoy me." Acher said, in the same, monotone voice he used for practically everything before reeling back and punching Regulus Black square in the face so hard Snape was more than thankful the hex had only gotten one of his eyes. 

Chapter Text

"How is it, Mr. Tallhill, that you end up here once again, almost exactly a year since last time?"

Dumbledore's voice was like an old, river current, wedged into the earth with decades upon decades of steady flow. His robes were a deep, dark, blue today, their cuffs spilling down in long, baby pink frills and patterns. The outfit contrasted wildly with the more muted, metal focused shades of his office, where twinkling lanterns spun lazily, propelled by magic alongside swirling snow globes and tiny, dancing wall patterns.

"You know, Headmaster. Winter is a turbulent time." Acher shrugged, his gaze jumping from object to object. He reached out, lightly tapping a tiny, porcelain horse figurine standing on Dumbledore's desk. The animated object threw its head back without sound, painted eyes molding in irritation.

Albus sighed. "You know I cannot let your behaviour go unnoticed, Mr. Tallhill."

"Never thought you would."

A pause, before the old wizard pushed a bowl of candy to the center of his desk.

"Lemon drop?"

"Thanks." Acher took a handful, stuffing them into his pockets before taking one more, unwrapping it, and pushing it into his mouth. "Mhm, that's great." He slurred slightly, cheek puffed to the side like a chipmunk.

"I used to not enjoy their tanginess when I was a child, but I suppose I've grown up since then. Gained a more refined palette." Dumbledore admitted, chuckling. He reclined in his chair, gazing at Acher with clear, blue eyes.

"There is a bakery where I live that sells lemon bars." Tallhill said, rolling the candy across the roof of his mouth. "It's supposed to be a cake but really it's just pure lemon cream solidified into a slab. It tastes wonderful, like eating icing by the handful."

A smile crinkled the old man's eyes. "Color me interested Mr. Tallhill."

There was the characteristic sound of stone churning against stone, then the clack of heels against marble and carpet before a figure walked into the headmaster's office.

"Headmaster Dumbledore." The woman said.

"It is good to see you in great health Mrs. Black." Dumbledore replied, though his voice was noticeably less amused than before.

Welburga Black was a woman of many angles, sharp, like a shard of black glass not sanded down even a bit with the passage of time. She was tall, clad in a dark, distinctly victorian dress with a high collar and layered hoopskirts, her curly black hair pinned back and suffocated into a singular tight bun. Her nose was perfectly straight, thin lips painted matte, and eyeshadow pressed to her eyelids in meticulous, dark halfmoons that made her eyes look like thin slits.

"So this is the boy who had incited this incident?" She regarded Acher with a brazen glance and a lift of a well groomed eyebrow.

"'Incident' might be a bloated word." Dumbledore said.

She scowled at that. "He sent my son to the infirmary." Her voice was low and words clipped. She looked back at Tallhill sharply. "What is your name, boy?"

"Acher Tallhill." The blonde stated, keeping eye contact.

"Not a name I am familiar with." She turned her nose up, at that angle and expression her face looked like a mirror image of Regulus'.

"Predictable. I however, am quite familiar with yours." Acher smiled. "The great Black family. Full to bursting with famous wixen, ripe with talent." Welburga gave him another unimpressed glare. "Shame your son goes around soiling that reputation."

Like a switch being flipped, her face contorted, lines of anger welling at her forehead. "You-" She hissed through gritted teeth, taking a step closer. "Watch your tone-"

"Mrs Welburga." Dumbledore cut her off. "Please, we are talking to children here. No need for unnecessary force."

She huffed, but reeled herself back, smoothing down her dress, black nails glimmering across the dark surface along with a thin, signet ring made of blackened silver.

"Dear Regulus has a lot to say in regards to people like me. So much in fact he goes around picking on other students because of his...beliefs." Acher mused, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet. The woman seemed to hate it, more so even than what he was talking about. "It seems he thinks he's on top of the world, which might be why he decided to bully my friend relentlessly."

"My son doesn't do things like that-"

"My friend is in the infirmary as well, recovering from whatever hex your son used on him." He cut her off. "Dark magic, that one. Made him partially blind and deaf under its clutches. I really am just surprised at how open and daring Regulus was with it. Not subtle at all. Seems like him and Sirius really aren't that different."

That statement did far more than Tallhill thought it would. Welburga seized the side of her dress with her nails, poisonous glare directed straight at him. It was a wonder he didn't catch on fire.

"Watch your mouth, and keep my family from your tongue, lest something happens to it, boy." Her words were like the edge of a knife, seeped in poison.

"Mrs. Welburga!" Dumbledore called, his gaze thunderous.

She paid no mind to his angry look, smoothing down her dress again with the expression of a smug cat that got what it wanted in the end. "This matter will be handled appropriately. I think I know which spell my son used, and I will see it undone. I will also discipline him appropriately." She leveled Dumbledore with a heavy look, her grey eyes like steel. "I want this boy punished. Throwing fists around like an uncivilized ape, so typical of children raised in inappropriate environments. I will not be pressing charges, in exchange I want this event to be forgotten about."

The wizened principle exhaled, folding his arms. "...consider it done." He said, and cut the conversation at that.

Welburga left soon after that, giving no parting words and certainly no bows, the flurry of her skirt disappearing behind the stone wall leading to the aloof gargoyle.

Acher popped another lemon drop into his mouth. "These are good." He said through the mouthful before a loud snap resided through the chamber.

The headmaster looked up at him, his expression significantly more pleased than it was just a second ago."I am glad, Mr. Tallhill, though you should probably be more conscious of your teeth. The candy is quite hard." He chuckled. "Or maybe it's just my teeth that have grown weak with age."

The blonde suckled on the round candy, looking at the white haired wizard through the shadow of his bangs. "So...scrubbing cauldrons?"

"Is there something else you'd rather do?" Dumbledore asked with amusement.

"It's what I did last time, plus I have enough of scrubbing dishes at home." Acher scrunched his nose.

"You can help Mr. Filch with the mopping on the third floor then." Albus said. "I'm sure he will appreciate the help for the next three weeks."

"I don't doubt it." Acher huffed.

There was a pause, the silent room residing with the soft ticks and jingles of spinning metal contraptions. The air was warm, despite the chill outside, cosy even, with the rugs and soft wooden panels.

"Why not use magic Mr. Tallhill?" The headmaster asked, his blue eyes revealing nothing but faint interest as he stared into Acher's marbled black.

The candy clicked against Tallhill's teeth as he moved it from his left to his right cheek. "Magic is impersonal...at least the wand kind." He said slowly. "I wanted it to be personal, I wanted it to hurt."

"Because he hurt Mr. Snape?" Dumbledore inquired further. There was no hostility in his voice.

"I don't doubt he hurt countless others." The blonde shook his head. "But those others won't come forward, never will. So somebody needed to act and take the blame for it."

"And you have decided that that person needs to be you?"

"If I had decided that somebody else should then I would be just like all the others."

He looked at Dumbledore, expecting some kind of angry retort, or at least an exacerbated sigh. None of that came, his face was calm, hands folded into each other, wizened fingers laid upon the ridges of his knuckles, slotted together like a puzzle.

"You are quite bad at this whole disciplinary thing, Headmaster." Acher smiled.

A tiny smile appeared on Dumbledore's face, mirroring his. "We all have our faults." He leaned back again, setting heavily onto the back rest of his chair. "As admirable as your intentions are, I cannot condone your use of violence. That was a very foolish thing to do, it could've endangered young Black's life."

"Violence is necessary, Headmaster." Acher said, without missing a beat.

Dumbledore's gaze was clear, yet tired."I know that more than anyone else, my boy." He then looked down and gently nudged the bowl of candy further towards the blonde. "Take a few more, Mr Tallhill. I do appreciate a fellow sweets enthusiast."

And so Acher took more, the candy rustling in his pocket as he exited the room.

[...]

One Black, two Black, three Black. Honestly, what's with these people, you annoy one and next you know the entire tribe is descending on you like a murder of crows ready to pick your eyes out.

"What in the bloody hell did you do to my brother!" Sirius black was practically fuming, gripping the front of Acher's shirt and jabbing the tip of his wand into the underside of his chin. They were in an empty hallway, right next to one of the moving staircases.

"I think it's pretty obvious if you've seen him." Tallhill said, shrugging.

Sirius growled. "I won't let you get away with this-!"

"I suppose we are on the same page then. I didn't let your brother get away with his acts either."

"His acts?" Sirius looked up at him, confused.

"Your brother is a bully." Acher leaned in. "He seems to think that his particular upbringing grants him a pass to do anything he desires."

Sirius stayed quiet for a couple seconds before shaking his head, rage returning."What does it matter!? His entire eye is swollen, if you go around tormenting him I swear, I'll be the last thing you see!"

Acher looked down at him in silence..

"You two really are alike." The blonde said before taking Black's hand and yanking his grip off of his shirt. "Quit it, I already have detention, no need for you to earn yourself one as well. You seem to already do that on the regular."

He gave the boy another passing glance, then walked away. Thankfully the Griffindor didn't follow.

Acher arrived at the dining hall and felt profoundly uncomfortable the moment he entered. Logic would dictate he should lie low for a couple days after yesterday's incident but Minerva had definitely heard of what had happened and he'd rather not tick her off even further.

It was early, so there weren't as many people, still, the tables buzzed with conversation and some students even began looking at Acher as he passed. News spread quickly, especially at a boarding school. Huh, he distinctly recalled something very, very similar happening last year at almost the exact same time...

A small smile spread on Acher's face, reminiscing on his and Bellatrix's duel. That at least was a challenge. And a worthy one at that. Bellatrix was a menace, a duelist of great skill. Her words were true when she critiqued Acher's lack of variety and his over reliance on brute force. He'll have to change that in the future, become less predictable, more worthy of a rematch. It was true head opportunities to duel now, but it just wasn't the same as a real, raw fight. DADA lessons unfortunately didn't allow for much variety. He'll have to find somebody to spar with him in the meantime, maybe Snape would be okay with it?

Something hit him on the shoulder, light, clattering to the floor. Acher paused, confused, and picked up the object that had rolled between his feet. A wand holster, long and fashionably cylindrical, made of bleached leather, a cutesy little metal clasp in the shape of a flower holding the cap closed. It was empty.

"Acher Tallhill!" A voice called behind him, inappropriately loud considering the circumstance.

The blonde turned around, regarding the person with a confused look.

Lily Evans was as cute as a button, small, pudgy cheeked and with a halo of red curls. Her eyes were green and clear like a cut crystal, though their beauty made it so much more jarring to see them pulled into a fierce scowl. She was huffing, as if she had run after him, her arm poised awkwardly at her side after she threw the holster at him.

"I challenge you to a wizarding duel!" Lily yelled, the fire of determination clear in her voice.

By that point the entire great hall was silent, staring at the unfolding events with bated breaths and dropped jaws.

Acher ran the pad of his thumb down the intricate stitching at the side of the holster, gazing at the girl in front of him. Despite the awkward silence Lily didn't back down, she stared right into his eyes, face thunderous and chest puffed out.

"Miss Evans!" McGonagall hurried from the teachers table, her expression pale from shock. "Stop it this instant! It is highly inappropriate, especially at your skill level!"

The DADA professor hurried behind her, her face pinched.

Acher looked back at Lily. She didn't lose even an ounce of her determination at the professor's protest. She held her ground, looking only at him.

"I will fight, with my honor upheld by the tip of my wand, my heart bare! In the name of house Evans and my dear friend Severus Snape!" She proclaimed loudly. "Do you accept this duel, Acher Tallhill?"

"Yeah, sure." Acher said.

"Mr. Tallhill!" Minerva gasped. "This is absolutely preposterous, Albus, we cannot allow this!" She turned to the wizened professor who was slowly getting down the little steps leading down from the staff table.

"I am afraid there is not much we can do, dear Minerva." His eyes flickered between Acher and Lily with clear amusement. "Mr. Tallhill has already agreed to the duel, and as you can see everything went according to tradition. The holster hit, was picked up, and the words were spoken." He turned to Roseword. "Am I right, Mrs. Roseword?"

"Yes, you are quite right, headmaster." The stout, tall woman said.

"I am impressed by your dedication to research, Ms. Evans." The headmaster praised.

Lily flushed.

"It was nothing...just an afternoon at the library." Her gaze returned to Tallhill and instantly hardened, her previous bashfulness gone.

Acher realized he was probably supposed to answer with his own little cultist speech. He placed his hand on his chest in a vague attempt to seem more proper.

"I will fight, with my honor upheld by the tip of my wand, my...heart bare. In the name of house Tallhill and my dear friend..." He pursed his lips in thought. "Struhanka."

McGonagall groaned.

"I will wait for you, in the large DADA classroom on the second floor, be there in half an hour." Lily said, her face serious.

Acher nodded.

"Don't be late." She insisted.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

They shook hands.

[...]

The swell of the crowd was possibly overwhelming, way too large, even for the impressively sized classroom. Abuzz, the entire congregation stood in a tight circle, leaving the center of the room, where a large wooden platform shaped into a oval was raised slightly above the ground, bare and clear of any disturbances.

By the time he arrived Acher had to squeeze his way through a group of fifth years as the audience was too large to make way for him.

"How long has it been since there was an actual wizarding duel at Hogwarts?" One of the students, which appeared to be a third year Hufflepuff asked.

"Don't they happen every day during DADA?" Another chimed in.

"No, those are not actual duels. They lack the ceremony and because of it they also lack the stakes."

"So that Evans girl...?"

"Yeah, she means business."

Said Evans girl was already there, standing at the opposite end of the circle. Marlene and Dorcas stood behind her, Marlene looking furious, glaring dagger at Lily's back while Dorcas was biting her nails anxiously. Lily wasn't looking at them, turned away and rigid, she was tapping her foot against the ground.

At the forefront of the crowd, McGonagall was already standing with the DADA professor, Ms Roseword in tow. Slughorn was alongside them, his face pale as he wiped it down hastily with a handkerchief.

"You're late!" Lily said in anger.

Acher looked at her, confused. "I'm five minutes early."

For some reason those words seemed to infuriate her even more, she stared him down, clenching her dark wand.

"Are both of the participants ready?" Roseword walked over to the platform.

Both Lily and him nodded.

"Then it is settled, walk forward and show your wands."

They did so. The bone white piece of wood jumped in Acher's hand like an excited child, whirring and buzzing against his fingers as he aligned it with his face. The murmurs around them hushed, the atmosphere growing tense.

A shield rose around them, brought up by Professor Roseword.

Tallhill couldn't help but feel excitement start to bubble in his stomach, twisting his insides into knots as he turned around and walked to the other end of the arena. His pulse jumped, heartbeat pulling through his throat, roaring of blood mixing with the buzz of his wand, as if the object itself became an extension of his arm. It gnawed at him, at his heart, at his core. Whispering into his ear and yelling incessantly at the same time.

"Expelliarmus!" Lily shouted, jerking Acher back into reality, he barely managed to block the spell as it collided with his shield. Gosh, he needs to stop letting his thoughts engross him like that.

Evans sent a flurry of powerful, searing spells at him, forcing him to defend himself against them, one after the other. He scurried to the side, pushing away a ribbon of white light and a spray of green magics that solidified into tiny needle like points. He hissed when a couple of them embedded themselves into the palm of his wand hand, they were thin like hairs and painful like paper cuts. Acher quickly yanked them out, switching his wand to his other hand.

Lily clearly wasn't expecting that, she faltered and that allowed him to run forward. He threw out one of his favorite incantations, a blue rubber ball like spell. It flew so quickly that Evans didn't manage to shield herself against it. However, when it did reach her it passed through her body harmlessly before bouncing back behind her and hitting her in the back.

The girl yelped and stumbled forward, dazed and confused at what had struck her. For a second he thought that was it, but Lily Evans did not go down that easily. She growled and sprung up, whacking his raised shield with another round of strong spells. The brilliant green and white streaks shattered against his wards, exploding in collages of vibrant rainbows.

He was so focused on it he barely managed to see her suddenly clasp her hands around her eyes before she yelled. "LUMOS!" And the arena was suddenly swallowed in whiteness.

Acher hissed, but managed to close his eyes just quickly enough not to be blinded completely and keep up his shield at least up to his torso. When the light subsided, Lily was up again, breathing heavily, pale and disheveled, but very much still standing.

He made to move forward just to realize his feet were now stuck in something deeply uncomfortable. He looked down only to see that his shoes had been transfigured into solid bronze. Acher looked back up, eyes wide.

Lily, despite her exhaustion, smirked, her grin sly on her small, fox-like face.

"You're clever." He complemented her, though weirdly enough the comment didn't seem to please her. She dropped the smile, her expression turning thunderous.

Unable to move comfortably Tallhill came to the conclusion that he needs to end the duel quickly. As fun as it was and as high as his blood pressure was surging, his feet were already aching from the metal digging into the bump of his ankle and his toes weren't fairing much better. He threw a scorch of pink light, the ribbon zipping through space and lashing against Lily's torso, forcing her to stumble back. She gasped, clutching at her collar before the spell resurged against her body, binding her arms to her torso.

The girl bared her teeth, her gaze poisonous as she glared at him through the disheveled mess of her fringe. Despite the bindings she forced her forearm to lift uncomfortably.

"Ex-!" She didn't manage to finish. Acher flicked his hand and made the fingers around her wand freeze over. Lily yowled in pain, falling to her knees and clutching at her wrist as swirls of frost ran up her arm.

That trick really was useful.

"Yield." He said, the pounding of his heart like drum reverberated in his ears.

Lily clenched her jaw, glaring up at him. She hissed, and tried to bring her hand up. When her spasming muscles didn't work she yanked her wand into her other hand.

The curse she threw was weak and shaky, as expected of the non-dominant arm. It smeared harmlessly across his shield in a thin stream of green light. The Griffindor scowled and hung her head, her arm falling beside her onto the scratched up floor boards.

Acher's ears popped as the sounds of battle weigned and disappeared, leaving only an empty silence.

"Do you yield, Ms. Evans?" Professor Roseword, which Acher had forgotten was even here, asked. She was pale, clutching her own wand and staring intently at Lily behind the shimmering barrier.

After a prolonged silence the Griffindor nodded mutely, not looking up, her fists balled.

Murmurs and shouts exploded around them, the student body pushing and yelling at each other, throwing insults and praise his way.

"Quiet!" McGonagall bellowed, instantly causing the ruckus to pipe down.

Roseword continued as she brought down the barrier, stepping onto the edge of the platform. "Lily Evans from house Griffindor has been defeated by Acher Tallhill of house Slytherin." Her lips pressed together. "May the fallen surrender her wand."

Acher blinked and looked around in confusion, then back down at Lily. The girl's expression was sour, face red and eyebrows drawn. She clenched her fingers around her wand a couple times before hanging her head again and surrendering it, handle towards him.

"May it be but another stepping stone on the road of your conquest." She whispered.

"Uh..." Tallhill stared at her dumbly. "I don't... I don't really need this...?"

Lily's head shot up, her expression confused.

"I mean, I already have my own...like...there's no need..."

"You reject it?" Roseword asked.

"I think it's quite unnecessary....?"

Feeling more than awkward Tallhill quickly bent down and pulled Lily to her feet, the girl groaned but steadied as the binds around her shrunk into nothingness. He took her hand and pretending to wave his wand warmed up her palm, making the frost melt and slip down her arm in beads of chill water.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" He asked.

Lily shook her head slowly.

"Good." He nodded mechanically. His gaze jumped up, to the crowd still watching them and found himself returning the gaze of what must've been hundreds of eyes. All pointed directly at him. Something uncomfortable zipped across his back and to the underside of his skull where it rest against his tongue. He felt unease, suddenly, and the emotion continued to mount the more he stood there at the center.

He slipped off his metal shoes with no little amount of difficulty, quickly hopped off the platform and shoved his way through the crowd. People yelped, some even tried to grab him but Tallhill didn't yield, not stopping until he was outside the classroom and through the mess of people standing in the hall.

"Tallhill!" One kid from Hufflepuff yelled, waving around a muggle marker. "Can you sign my arm!?"

"What potions did you use!?" Another girl asked after him.

"Is Evans' arm still attached?"

"What was that blue spell?"

Acher hurried his steps faster and faster until he was running, socked feet pushing against the marble ground. He ran and ran, down the stairs up the stairs then down some more, the thrill of battle replaced with a sudden flood of anxiety. He could still feel their eyes, as if seared into his back, convinced there was somebody running after him. He didn't stop until the frigid air of the lower levels of Hogwarts made its way into his ears and nose and he crossed the threshold into the wide, eastern castle courtyard. There, small but full pines grew in a tangle of deep green, weighted down by layers of snow alongside the dark shrubbery. The snowfall was thick that day and the skies were cloudy but bright, the air freezing, making his nose itch.

It was completely empty, the parameters quiet.

Acher's socked feet made way through the snow, his metal shoes clicking in his arms, hot breath puffing in a cloud of cold mist.

Somehow, in winter he always found himself knees deep in snow after something ridiculous.

He swept away a chunk of snow off of a nearby bench and sat down heavily upon it. The pine around him rustled with the wind and Acher's hair danced along with it.

The boy looked down numbly at transfigured shoes and wrapped his hands around them, trying to undo the spell. It held, however, his magic wriggling around without much effect, partially due to the strength of the transfiguration and partially due to the complicated structure of his boots.

His fingers grew numb in the cold, faster so pressed against the bronze surface. He sniffed, readjusting his grip.

Acher heard somebody's footsteps, fast, running into the courtyard. Quick breaths, vaguely familiar, feet churning through the snow towards him.

"Hey-! You- big, ugly-" They gasped, finally catching up with Acher.

The blonde looked up, only to see James Potter standing in front of him. A Gryffindor scarf was hastily wrapped around his neck, gloved hands pushed under his armpits and glasses partially fogged over. His face was so red, it truly brought out the gentle blues and whites of the snowy landscape, the sweat beaded on his forehead even shimmered like snow.

"What are you doing?" James asked, staring down at Acher.

The blonde looked back down. "I can't seem to transfigure them back..."

The Griffindor sputtered, then wiped his nose and growled. "Whatever...whatever! This is not why I'm here. What was that fight just now!?"

Acher thumbed at an indent in the bronze shell, that was probably where the two parts of the sole separated. "You didn't find it entertaining?"

"That's not what I mean!" James fumed. "You slimy snake! You hurt Lily!"

"That's what happens during a duel."

"She's smaller than you!" he insisted,"By so much and you didn't hold back at all!"

"So what?" Acher looked up sharply. The boy flinched back a little but otherwise didn't back down. "Do you think of her as incapable?"

James somehow managed to flush even further, eyebrows drawing from frustration to confusion. "No-"

"Then stop acting like it." Acher stood up from the bench, and then hesitated. He looked down at the shoes in his hands. "I'm gonna have to buy a new pair." Acher grumbled. "So much for thrifting..."

He turned away and walked back into the castle, drenched feet pushing through the snow.

[...]

Lily Evans felt like a fool. Defeat sat raw and sour on her tongue, dull pain radiating up her arm and bruised up knees. She kept her eyes on her shoes in shame, not looking up at the one walking next to her.

"This was an act of pure idiocy on your part, Ms. Evans." McGonagall was furious, that was apparent enough. Though despite her words her hand was warm and steady on Lily's shoulder as the head of house steered her towards the infirmary. "I hope you know, that if Mr. Tallhill were a different boy than he is, this would've ended much worse for you."

Lily's face twisted in anger just thinking of the Slytherin, but the expression soon melted back into exhaustion. She was too tired to muster up any rebuttals, so she kept her lips sealed.

McGonagall sighed.

Soon, Lily was in the infirmary, with Pomfrey fretting over her as she laid down on a bed. A couple flicks of the wand, one potion and one roll of bandages and she was all patched up. Evans flexed her fingers in the tight cloth, feeling the moist serum slathered on her skin to help it heal from the frostbite.

"Drink this too, child." Pomfrey handed her yet another cup.

Lily did so, it was hot, steam rising off the surface. "What is this? A potion for the bruises?"

"That, my dear, is chamomile tea." Pomfrey smiled, smoothing down the comforter around Lily's legs. "Something to help you warm up."

Evans blushed, hiding her face behind the cup.

"Thank you, Pomfrey." McGonagall nodded as the healer parted, returning back to her study. The older woman's gaze flickered back to Lily and the ginger couldn't help but shrink into herself. "Every year, I think I've seen everything the student body has to offer. Yet every time I am proven wrong." Her eyebrow raised. "You and Mr. Tallhill really are alike, at least in the way you like to test my limits."

Lily's anger bubbled up again. "I am nothing like him."

"Your distaste of Mr. Tallhill puzzles me greatly, Ms. Evans."

"He's a bully." Lily insisted. "He hit Snape, bullied him for months!" Her fingers curled around the handle of the mug until her knuckles turned white. She quickly put it onto the nightstand. "That's why I needed to duel him."

"A bully?" McGonagall looked at her in shock.

"Yes!"

Footsteps suddenly neared them, before a familiar head of black hair appeared from behind a white curtain separating her bed from the others.

"Lily?" It was Severus. He was wearing a frayed Christmas sweater, hair pulled away from his eyes with a ponytail sitting low against his neck. Half of his face was still in bandages, the gauze pressed against his injured eye. Her friend noticed the bandages around her arm and scurried over. "Lily! What happened!?"

Evans could feel hot tears prickle her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away with the edge of her sleeve. "Sev..."

"You dueled Tallhill?" Ah, so he had heard more than she thought.

"Yes..."

"Why on Morgana would you do such a thing?"

"I know he bullied you Sev!" Lily yelled, punching the mattress with her uninjured hand. "All those months, I saw how miserable you were, how he made you trail him like a dog! Every time you came back more injured, it was horrible." Her fingers curled into the soft bedding. "And then, he threw that hex at you...I just couldn't stand it."

For a while there was silence. Only then did Lily realize that McGonagall had slipped away, leaving only her and Severus in the infirmary.

Lily looked back up at her friend reluctantly.

Severus gazed into her eyes, his face a mix of so many emotions it was hard to pinpoint just one.

"You'd do that for me...?" He asked in a whisper. "Fight Tallhill?"

"Of course." She answered. "You're the first friend that I ever had."

He reached out, for a second she thought he was going to hug her, but then, he slapped her upside the head instead.

"Ow!" She yelped, grabbing her aching skull. "What was that for!?"

"For being the biggest idiot to ever grace the earth." Snape huffed and plopped down next to her.

"What?" She scowled at him.

"Tallhill didn't bully me." He said.

Lily blinked at him her jaw dropping. "What!?"

"He never did." Sev shook his head.

"I..." She frowned before realizing. "Oh god, oh no-! That's-! Sev, you mean that I challenged Tallhill to a duel for nothing!?"

Severus just scratched his head, looking awkwardly to the side.

Lily sunk into the pillow, hands on her face. "I'm such an idiot..." She suddenly wished to be swallowed by the earth. "I made a complete moron of myself!"

"Honestly, Lily. You're so smart but even that cleverness of yours cannot reign in how hot headed you are." Sev sighed. "How did you even come to that conclusion?"

"The bruises, and you didn't even talk about what you were doing with him when you hung around...you were always so frustrated and distant too..." Lily's hands slid off her face. "If not Tallhill then who?"

Severus' expression turned sour. "I can't really talk about that, I vowed not to..." He said. "But well, let's just say he was caught up in a similar incident at about the same time."

Lily frowned, looking at him. "Wait..." She shot up. "Regulus Black?" When Severus didn't say anything Lily scowled. "That insolent little-!"

"Please Lily." Severus pushed her to lay back down and gazed at her with warm eyes. "Don't duel anyone else for my sake."

She flushed and pursed her lips with a grumble but then nodded reluctantly.

Sev chuckled. A comfortable silence fell between them as they both laid there and looked out the opposite wall's window. A willow dipped into the windows view, its long branches covered in snow lightly bouncing in the wind, swirls of frost climbing up the glass.

"I sent mum a letter..." Lily whispered. "You'll be staying at our house for Christmas this year."

"I will be?" Severus looked sideways at her. "Do I have any choice?"

"Nope!" She huffed, yanking the comforter from underneath them she covered them both up to the chin. "Dad said your stocking is already pinned over the fireplace. Right next to mine and Petunia's."

"Oh Salazar." Severus rolled his eyes. "Next to hers? I won't hear the end of it." But then strangely, he paused as if remembering something. "Well...at least there will be roasted parsnips."

"That's all you care about, do you!" Lily laughed.

"You say that as if you don't pile your plate with just potatoes every year." He flicked her forehead.

"I don't! I just take a couple more spoonfuls!" She puffed her cheeks.

"So much you can't even eat the Turkey..."

Lily wriggled around, slipped off her sock and pushed her cold toes into the bottom of Sev's sweater, right up against his side.

He yelped. "Oh you-!" He wrestled her down. She shrieked a half giggle, half scream of horror as he attacked her with his own cold fingers, pushing them onto the side of her neck.

Outside the frost swirled but the castle was warm, even more so when she heard Severus laugh again.

Chapter Text

"I still can't believe you did that." Snape huffed, pushing porridge around in his bowl.

They were sitting at the breakfast table more towards the back end where most people kept a wide berth, though they also couldn't help but glance and whisper from time to time.

Acher ate another spoonful of peas. His breakfast was just that, a mountain of peas and mashed potatoes.

It was right before Christmas break, the classes had reduced from a breakneck pace to slow and eventually ceased completely. Tomorrow, the student body would be ushered out, back into their homes. Christmas decorations were already hung, the white light of the early morning streaming from the high windows giving a strange melancholic look to the weaved pine branches and glittery ornaments. Acher couldn't decide if he liked seeing them that way or not.

"Stupid," Snape repeated, "Stupid, I leave you for one day..."

"Technically it was three." Ached remarked, rocking back and forth on the bench while chewing, one hand pushed between his legs and the other thumbing at the lip of his goblet. There was a welt in the metal there, that his finger fit into perfectly.

Rolling his eyes Snape ate the rest of the mush that Tallhill couldn't even look at. The Slytherin rest the top of his spoon against the edge of his bowl.

"...thank you." He whispered, loud enough for the blonde to hear.

Acher nodded mutely, swallowing his peas.

Snape jerked back suddenly when a hand was laid onto his shoulder. He swiveled his head back, making Acher glance too.

"Hi Sev." Lily stood behind them, one hand behind her back, squirming slightly from side to side.

"Lily!" Snape exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

It wasn't anything prohibited for members of other houses to be hanging around the other tables but it wasn't exactly common, especially when it came to the Slytherins. They were already attracting more stares.

"Hey Acher..." The Gryffindor mumbled giving him a pitiful look.

First name basis already? What a quick change of heart.

"I wanted to apologize." She said quickly as if it would make her words flow easier. "I...rushed into things." The girl pulled her hands from behind herself, offering him a small package. "Here... for...it's...an apology."

Acher took the small brown bag from her hands, it was thin and light. He unwrapped it. Inside was a long piece of embroidered, white serpentine, decorated with tiny sequins and beads of the same color.

"It's for your hair." Lily explained.

Acher raised it to look at it more closely, the pattern of embroidery was distinctly flower and leaf shaped, the delicate threads weaving together like vines yet never churning into knots.

He heard some Slytherin snicker a couple seats away.

Lily turned red, the shade pronounced on her pale cheeks. "Actually- it's whatever, it's stupid anyway. You don't have to wear it..."

Acher gathered his hair, at least the back part that he could round up comfortably before wrapping the serpentine around it and tying it with a single easy knot.

He turned to Snape. "How do I look?"

Severus huffed. "I can't see it if you're turned towards me."

Acher angled his head away.

"Moron." Snape said. "You tied it like you tie shoes, a five year old could do it better."

"Do you know how to tie it?" Acher asked.

To that Snape stayed silent, though Acher could hear him huff again and cross his arms.

"I can tie it for you!" Lily jumped, a wide hopeful smile on her lips.

"Really?" Acher frowned. "You don't have to-"

"No, no it's fine!" The girl pushed his shoulders until he was back to sitting on the bench proper, turned away from her. Her arms sure were strong for how willowy they looked.

Lily took something out of her pocket and began to brush his hair.

"You still have that?" Snape asked Lily.

"The comb?" She questioned. "Yeah! It's one of the best presents I've ever gotten, it's so useful and fits perfectly in my bag."

Snape flushed, and just like with Lily the sheer whiteness of his complexion didn't help him stay covert with it.

"You have really nice hair, Acher!" The Griffindor exclaimed, carding her finger through the thinner hairs at the back of his nape. Tallhill realized that the touch was nicer than he imagined though it still made his leg twitch nervously. He shoved some mashed potatoes and peas into his mouth, chewing it loudly.

There was a familiar rustle of feathers from up above as the days mail was distributed in a blur of unruly owls. More mail than usual, due to the approaching Christmas.

Acher went back to his food, only for a large, grey-white feathered owl to suddenly swoop in and land straight onto his shoulder.

Lily yelped. "Woah! Is that your owl Acher?"

The blonde turned his head to look at the bird, puzzled. "No...but I do know who it's from." That was the same owl Ms. Pines used last year to give him his Christmas present. The grumpy animal leveled him with annoyed yellow eyes, begrudgingly releasing the letter it had in its beak when he tugged on it.

"Acher, that's a howler!" Snape exclaimed, scooting closer to take a look at the letter.

It was made of thick red paper, stamped over with a wax seal.

"Hm..." Acher pushed his finger in and cracked the little red disc.

It unfurled like an origami, rising into the air above the table before forming into a faux mouth.

"Oh Acher my sweetie! I hope you're doing fine at Hogwarts!" The object spoke. Now that was undeniably Mara's voice, clear and sweet, especially when she was talking to him. "I hope you're eating well too, I know how picky you can be when you can't prepare your own food-"

"Is that your mum?" Snape asked, his eyebrows high.

Acher shook his head. "No it's..." He pursed his lips. "My aunt."

"Oh-! Silly me! Acher, your mum wants to talk to you as well, she's got big news!" The howler exclaimed, jumping up and down.

There was a weird sound, the magical letter scrunched and rearranged itself, becoming, somehow, more angular.

"Wait-" it spoke, turning to the side as if talking to somebody next to it. "Is this thing already on?"

Acher blinked in surprise, hearing his mother's voice through the strange, paper voice box.

"Is it already writing- wait, shit, scratch that out." The letter sputtered.

The howler rearranged back into Mara. "You can't scratch it out, dear. Just talk, you're wasting paper!"

His mum's voice came back in. "Alright- shit. All this wizard stuff is so uncontrollable." The howler swiveled back to him. "Uh...son, you're coming home for Christmas."

There was a pause before the howler turned back to Mara. "That's it?"

His mum again. "Is it supposed to be longer...?"

"Yes it is! You're his mum, what is that authoritarian way of speaking!? You could wring more emotion out of a wet rag!"

"Okay okay! Jesus, woman." Isabella clicked her tongue which looked particularly exaggerated with the paper mouth. "Ah..."

Before the science could get too long Mara jumped in again. "Your mum wanted to say that she really, really misses you and wants to see you during the holidays, dear."

"Yeah that...."

"So you're not staying at Hogwarts for Christmas this time! Hurray!" The howler swayed happily. "Be sure to give me a visit as well when you come back, sweetie!"

That was the last thing the howler said before it ran out of room for anymore words. It shuddered, rearranged itself a couple times again before bursting into a thousand pieces that floated onto the table like confetti.

Acher blinked a couple times, staring at the paper pieces now laying all over his food, a couple even found themselves in his goblet.

"Well...looks like you're not spending Christmas at Hogwarts anymore." Said Snape, inspecting one of the paper pieces. "I think this is the first nice howler I've seen..."

Acher jabbed a couple peas onto his fork mutely. Yet just as he lifted it to his mouth the owl on his shoulder lurched forward and swiped them for itself before unfurling its wings and flying away.

Tallhill stared at his empty fork.

"Finished!" Lily announced, stepping back from the blonde.

Acher felt around with his palm, indeed, the bow felt more cohesive, symmetrical. It held on tighter too.

Ached craned his head back. "Thanks."

The smile on Lily's face was positively beaming.

[...]

Salisbury was buried in snow, thick, it piled in layers on top of buildings and windowsills, sparkling like billions of tiny sequins. Below it, on the underside of roofs long icicles drooped down into sharp points and when the wind blew by they vibrated, almost chiming against the metal, or perhaps one another, yet never breaking.

People were shuffling the snow from the payments and into large piles, even when it continued to pour down. Above him, the sky was white, overcast completely, mirroring the covered earth.

The train ride and subsequent walk from the train station and into the town was weird.

Why? Well, Acher's mother actually came to pick him up.

The tall, imposing woman was clad in a thick leather jacket with a sweater underneth, a long skirt and a pair of pants below it. A checkered print scarf wrapped around almost her entire head, leaving out only her eyes.

The two of them climbed the stairs of their cold apartment complex. When they finally reached their home Acher was stunned to see a small, Christmas wreathe stuck onto their front door.

"Did Santa come by or something?" The boy asked.

Turning the key in the lock Isabella snorted. "Nah, that Pines woman insisted on making the atmosphere more 'Christmas-like'".

The inside of their house was much warmer than the staircase, and it was also surprisingly tidy. Certainly more so than last year. No bottles marred the ground. Had his mother finally curbed her addiction?

Once he got himself out of the heavy winter clothes and released Struhanka Acher moved further into the house.

"Is that...?" He whispered once he got into the living room. The boy quickly padded over to a little antique coffetable standing next to the telly. It was usually covered in books and leftover coffee mugs but now all of that was swept away and in its place stood a small, plastic Christmas tree. With little glittering ornaments and a metal star that seemed just a tad too heavy the whole thing didn't exceed 50 centimeters. Still, it was perhaps the most colorful and shiny thing that Ached had ever seen in their living room.

Noticing a cord pulled to the back Acher felt around with his hand and found the little switch. With a flick the Christmas lights came to life. Green, red and yellow, bouncing off of the ornaments and landing in colorful strips across the sleek table.

"The neighbour had a spare." Isabella said. "It's...kinda beat up and I couldn't find any of our ornaments that fit it beside that star..."

Acher turned around to look at his mother. She was out of her winter clothes as well, hands pushed into the pockets of her skirt she watched as Struhanka weazeled her way between her ankles, rubbing against her pants.

"I like it." Acher said, standing up.

She looked up at him, her pale blue eyes reflecting each and every colorful light like a mirror. The woman nodded stiffly. She opened her mouth but before she could utter a thing a loud meow interrupted her.

Struhanka was pawing at his mothers feet, kneading her sharp claws into her pants, ears upright.

"She wants you to feed her." Acher said.

Isabella's face went white before she looked down at the cat clawing at her clothes. "What? Me? That's your cat-creature...thing..." She waved her hand around.

The big rolled his eyes. "Yeah but she wants you to do it."

The woman sighed but seemingly gave up. They both went to the kitchen where the smaller Tallhill found a spare can of wet cat food in the cabinet underneath the sink. He handed it to the woman.

The boy then looked into the refrigerator. "Have you bought anything?" He scowled, seeing that there was only a carton of milk and some plastic boxes with what looked like leftovers. "Clearly not..."

He turned to see his mother crouched down, pushing a bowl of cat foot with the tips of her fingers as if she was taking care of a dragon's supper. Her face was both disgusted and fascinated once Struhanka began chowing down her meal.

"You're just like Snape when it comes to Struhanka." Acher found himself saying. Upon his mother's questioning gaze he elaborated. "He's from Hogwarts, a friend of mine."

"You've got friends?" She asked then quickly added. "Not that that's surprising..."

The following silence made the atmosphere turn awkward real quick. Instead of letting it simmer Acher looked to the fridge. "We'll need to go shopping." He said, taking out a couple tote bags and stuffing them into his pockets.

"What for?"

"Christmas dinner." He passed by her, jogging back to the foyer. "Come on!"

"I'm going?" She sounded positively baffled as she followed him back to the door.

"I can't drag it back all myself." Acher shrugged, putting on his winter boots. "Plus, you've got the money."

"Oi!"

[...]

As the day grew dark, and it did so at record speed in the dead of winter, colorful street decoration and lit up shop displays came to life, bathing the gentle blues and whites in searing oranges.

The shops were full to bursting with people making their last minute purchases and it was a miracle they managed to snag anything at all. Following his mental guide of what they ate at Hogwarts Acher snagged some potatoes, parsnips and carrots, brussel sprouts and some more spices and cream.

When they came to the meat section Acher immediately spotted the last large turkey pushed innocouly to the side of the chilled display.

And an older woman just making her way towards it.

The boy tugged on his mum's jacket. "Mum!" He whisper-yelled. "There's a turkey left!"

She squinted at the display. "Yeah, that old lady seems to have her eyes set on it though..."

"Yeah, I'll go distract her." Acher nodded.

"What!?"

"I'll have her turned around, and then, you go and take it!"

"Huh-?"

Acher quickly jogged over and touched the old woman shoulder. "Hello madam!"

The wizened woman turned to him and smiled. "Oh hello there young man. Is there anything you need?"

Acher put his hands behind his back, swaying on the balls of his feet. "Do you know where I can get some dried fruit?"

"Dried fruit?" She echoed, puzzled.

"Yes! I'm making a Christmas cake this year, but I haven't been able to find any raisins." That was a complete lie, Acher would rather eat his own shoe than to bite into a cake comprised 70% of mushy fruit. It did seem to be the right thing to say though as the lady's face lit up instantly.

"Oh, you sweet little lad!" She praised, pinching his cheek.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw his mother awkwardly inch across the aisle.

"My dad makes the best Christmas cake ever, and I'm going to beat him this year." He continued to explain, "So I need real good ones."

"Yes yes," the old woman chortled, "Only the best."

His mother had the build and muscle coordination of a stick bug, yet even then she managed to snag the turkey relatively quickly. She put the heavy thing in the basket and nearly toppled when the thing yanked the entire thing down, almost knocking it out of her hands. Then, she quickly scurried off, disappearing into the nearest isle.

"-you will see them next to do pistachios, in those large, wooden crates-" the old woman kept explaining, wagging her finger.

"Aaah~" Acher nodded. "I know where those are! Thank you very much, Marry Christmas!" He waved and bounced off.

"Young Man, you're going the wrong way!" She yelled back, but Acher was focused now on finding his mother and celebrating their victory. Maybe with an actual cake too? Wouldn't hurt to stop at the bakery on their way back.

[...]

"You cut them so weird." Acher leaned over, looking at his mother cutting the carrots.

It was dark but the lights were on in the house, pots boiled on the stove, in the oven, their well won prize of a massive turkey was roasting away, gaining a lovely golden sheen.

The blonde woman scoffed. "What's wrong with them?"

"You cut it like...at an angle." He wriggled his finger over the cut up vegetables.

His mother scowled at him.

"Like...like weird..."

"Of for gods- they are carrots, they could be any bloody shape! They'll boil just the same!" She whacked the knife down chopping them at every possible angle.

"True that." Acher threw his hands defensively and promptly slithered as far away from his mother's vicious murder spree.

Isabella was a competent cook, she was not quick with the knife like a line cook but her hands were steady and her cuts were clean. It was clear she had experience in the kitchen. She didn't need any sort of instructions for making vegetable stock or what to prepare for the gravy.

"Mauuu!" Struhanka lamented loudly, rubbing up against Acher's legs and stomping all over his feet. No doubt she had her eye on that turkey.

"You'll get some Struhanka." Acher said, or rather repeated for the 10th time as he cut the brussel sprouts. "You'll get yours from the broth."

The feline pushed her entire face into his calf, meowing pitifully. "No, you can't have the roasted one, we don't know if it will make you sick or not."

Another meow, tiny and defeated.

"Oh, you silly little thing." He scooped her up. The cat latched onto his shoulder and started to rub her cold nose against his temple, snorting and making weird creature noises into his ear. "Let's do something else Struhanka." He skipped out of the kitchen.

"Bored with the cooking already?" His mother called out.

"You can do it!" Acher cheered, half encouragingly and half mockingly, patting Struhankas backside.

His mother clicked her tongue before he heard some shuffling and the sound of a switch going off. Instantly the tiny radio they had installed next to the thermostat started to play. Some kind of pirate channel probably, as a loud rock music started to echo from the small room alongside the bubbling of the pots.

Acher hugged Struhanka close, dancing around and humming along to the music. He was still in his pajama pants, thick woolen socks around his feet along with the soft slippers. Up to his neck he was clad in a deep crimson sweater, with little pompoms along the chest and a snowman stitched to the front. He loved it. It was so warm and comforting. Struhanka thought so too, though admittedly she was more focused on the pompoms, she wasted no time pawing at them and even testing some more unfortunate ones with her teeth.

"Let's set up the rest of the decorations Struhanka." He whispered to the cat bringing her real close and peering into her large eyes. She meowed loudly and licked his nose.

They took out the newly bought decorations. Technically they were all tree decor, but nowhere did it state you can't use it elsewhere. Acher hung a bunch of smooth golden baubles on pretty much wherever he could. On clothing hangers, on the metal arms of those contraptions holding potted plants to the walls, from the tipped edges of paintings.

Struhanka didn't seem very invested in his little project, she stayed on the ground knocking around one of them like a ball of yarn.

When it came to the long, red Christmas chain she pounced on it right as he pulled it out of the box, clawing at the end and sinking her teeth into it.

"Don't do that Struhanka, that's a lot of plastic, way too much for you." Tallhill tugged the chain around. "You'll get sick from it," Struhanka yowled and gagged around the plastic clippings. "See? Not good." He sighed, cradling her face and pulling out the synthetic strips from her mouth.

She jumped away and hissed at the chain in offence.

"Now you hate it huh." The blonde tutted, walking over to the window. He got onto a stool and threw the end of the chain around the thick, curtain rod before wrapping it around it. It was the only sensible place to put it.

All the while Struhanka sat next to the stool, glaring daggers at the plastic chain her ears back and fur standing on end.

Then it was time to set up the table. Acher managed to buy a batch of Christmas themed napkins so he used those. They had a bunch of old, ornate utensils, cups, bowls and plates so he just scowered in one of their cupboards and found the ones he needed. When setting up the large table Acher for some reason set up four spots instead of two. He frowned and shook his head, putting the additional cutlery back onto the shelf. Force of habit. Their family was so small yet it was still weird for him to put down just two spots.

He looked over the table and found himself wishing they had some little wreathe at the center, something to pull the composition together.

In the end he figured it out by placing a large, metal candle holder they kept in a wardrobe all year round. It was old and ornate, with three arms topped in wicked sharp prickets and a wide base with almost equally wide wax pans. The only problem was that they didn't actually have any candles, none that were at least appropriately sized. Still, the presence of the holder itself was enough to fill the awkward gap.

He clapped his hands. "Perfect."

"Finished with the decorating?" His mother called before walking out of the kitchen. Her face was a bit pallid and sweaty so maybe she wasn't as used to cooking for a long time. The woman silently looked over at the decoration with her eyebrows high.

Acher bounced over to her. "What do you think?" He swayed on the balls of his feet.

"It's ah..." She squinted at the baubles hanging off of the potted monstera. "It's very creative." The woman cleared her throat. "I'll get you a tree next time so you can...you know, exercise that creativity."

Acher beamed at the implication of "next time" and skipped over into the kitchen.

They finished up the cooking after another hour and finally assembled everything on the table. There was no preamble to anything, both of them simply sat down, in their respective seats, opposite to each other at the shorter ends of the table.

His mother looked at the barren candle holder. "Is somebody being stabbed tonight?"

"Nope!" Acher said, kicking his feet. "I just needed something to hold the composition together."

She looked at him over the three, thick spikes jutting from the holder.

He just smiled.

Without any further words they began to eat. The brussel sprouts were a bit burnt but Acher still stuffed as many as he could into his mouth.

Carefully, Isabella cut into the turkey, giving him the drum and a larger part of the thigh. For a while they ate in silence before his mother sighed and looked up.

"So..." She began, "How is...ah, how is school? In a witches castle?"

"More like a wizard's castle." He said with his mouth full. "The headmaster is a man."

"I thought it was that weird, dark lady?"

"McGonagall?" He asked. "She's the Deputy Headmistress."

"She certainly acted like she owns the place." His mum muttered, rolling one of the bones between her teeth. She had eaten it so quickly Acher could barely keep up he hurriedly stuffed more potatoes into his mouth and took another large bite of the meat. His mother started picking at the rest of the bird still in the baking dish.

"So...magic is real?"

"As far as I'm concerned?" Acher chirped. "Unless I've been hallucinating all the ghosts, moving portraits and spells."

"Moving portraits."

With his mouth full all he managed was a "mhm" and a nod.

"What about dragons?"

He nodded again, managing to open his mouth just enough to stuff more brussel between his teeth.

"Gnomes? Pixies? Unicorns?"

It was getting tiring to do all the nodding. He swallowed quickly. "Didn't you see most of that stuff when we went to Diagon Alley?"

"I thought it was just- like- representations?" When he gave her an unimpressed look she scowled. "For gods sake, I don't think pegasus are real because some brat has one printed on a backpack."

Tilting his head the boy huffed. "Yes, all those things are real! The castle is huge too, the stairs move back and forth like elevators, there are massive spiders in the forest and merpeople in the nearby lake." He flailed his hands around as if the motion would somehow convey all those fantastical sights. "The hat that assigns you your house talks and ask you questions, sings songs too."

"Houses? That sounds bloody posh, what is your house?" His mother asked, intrigue in her blue eyes.

"Slytherin." Acher answered quickly. "It's very prestigious. Our animal is a snake and we live in a dungeon deep underground, it's super cold and wet there."

"Prestigious indeed." The woman snorted but soon fell silent.

She looked down at her plate.

"This is...I don't even know." She signed heavily, racking her hands through her hair only to get annoyed when the curls inevitably knotted over her long fingers. The woman pulled them out with a frustrated huff. "Magic is real, unicorns are, my child is a mage and instead of going to a regular secondary school in Salisbury and learning how to dissect a frog he'll be pulling ones out of a hat."

"I think those are rabbits." Acher pointed out.

She threw up her hands. "Maybe it's different in magic land!" Dropping them onto the table she gave him a hard look. "The most insane thing, is that this basically changes the entire context of our world.How do you know who is a wizard and who is not? All the miracles of the past, the legends, they could all be products of that magic."

He looked at her blankly for a couple moments, simply mulling over her words before reluctantly nodding his head. "You're right. Religion becomes more and more dubious when you think about it. Maybe Jesus was actually a wizard or something?" Acher leaned back, rocking on his chair. "That would mean I was baptized in the name of some random guy." Acher muttered with a frown, dicing a brussel sprout between his molars.

"Baptism?" His mother asked. When he looked at her dubiously she elaborated. "Acher, we are Jewish."

"Jewish?" He blinked and looked down at his crotch. "But I'm not..."

His mother rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Okay, we are not religiously Jewish. Haven't been for some time, really." She stated. "My grandmother, your great-great-grandmother, and her family were religiously Jewish. Her brother's name was Acher Frieder."

"That's..."

"Your name." She nodded. "I named you after him."

Acher leaned forward eagerly. "What kind of a person was he?"

The woman smirked. "A real piece of work that one. I watched him twist the head off of my pet chicken when I was six." When he stared at her blankly she just shrugged. "It was only my pet for two days when I stayed over at his farm, named the little lady Pudding and everything. The poor bird ended up in the soup by the end of that week. The whole two months after the debacle I kept having nightmares of little Pudding running around headless."

"You're not really selling the guy." Acher frowned.

To his surprise she let out a peel of belly laughter, leaning back in her chair.

"Perhaps not." She said, having calmed down. "He liked me the most though, out of all my cousins and siblings. He liked to play soccer with us, at least until my brother and sister came in and I needed to coddle them. One scraped knee and the entire thing would be called off."

She laughed quietly but then slowly her face soured, staring at the fork she balanced on the knuckle of her pointer finger. Her eyes misty with memory.

Acher waited intently for his mother to continue. Anything. The smallest scrap of information. But she didn't give him anything more and seeing that she was getting more wrapped up in some kind of negative memory he stood quickly.

"I'll show you some of my school stuff!" Acher said, hurrying to his room.

"What?" His mother drawled. "Don't tell me I need to sign one of your failed tests."

He soon came back with a stack of books and loose parchments, unceremoniously putting them onto the table.

"Shit- don't just place that here." Isabella hissed, putting away the plates so the paper wouldn't flutter straight into the food. "You need a binder, half of those look like they've been eaten and spat back out."

Acher took one of the crumbled up papers, a rather unfortunate looking herbology homework that lost a chunk of its bottom right corner. "It's not that bad..." He frowned, unfurling it as best as he could.

His mother picked up one of the papers, squinting at it. "What did you even write this thing with? It's all smudged."

"We use quills."

"Quills?" Isabella gaped. "What the fuck are you writing, 18th century limericks? I'm older than you by decades and even I used fountain pens. You should be using a ballpoint at your age."

He shrugged. "Wizards just like that old school stuff."

"There's a difference between the old school and the 17th century."

"Depends on who you ask."

"Yeah well I'm not asking Queen Anne am I?" She scoffed.
"Buy yourself a binder. I'll give you a couple pounds. Or is that not allowed in that witch's castle of yours?"

"Should be allowed, considering that all the poisonous plants and giant spiders are."

"Giant spiders? Like in Lord of the Rings?" His mother asked, massaging the bridge of her nose. She looked to be fighting a killer headache or some sort of tremor.

"A bit smaller I guess. Like a Labrador?"

"Ugh." She stood up, wavering slightly in her step, her expression pale. "Wait a minute. I'll go get some water."

Acher didn't manage to point out the half full glass still on the table as his mother was already rushing to her room. He huffed, stacking all the papers into a pile. Upon looking sideways Acher could help but chuckle. Struhanka had extended her liquid body as far she could while rising on her tip toes on the chair. With her pink tongue she lapped up the remnants of gravy off of the side of Achers plate.

"Greedy creature." He murmured, petting the fiend across the bridge of her nose with the pad of his finger. She purred like an engine, not sopping her fiendish actions. Shameless, that one. He allowed her to indulge, if only for a while.

His mother soon returned, looking miles better than just a few minutes ago, her face flushed. She sat heavily in her chair, sending his pile of of books an eager glance. "Well?" She asked, waving her hand. "By all means, explain it to me, unless you've been sleeping during all your lessons?"

Acher smiled wide, jumping on the balls of his feet as he pulled out the first tome on transfiguration.

[...]

The structure that Mara Pines' boutique was in was a large housing complex, her apartment being situated right on top of the candy colored store. To get in you went through a large gate that led further into the inside courtyard, unless you turned halfway to a narrow stair case, in which case you were directed inside the structure proper. It was clearly an old building, having seen renovation only outside in order to be pleasing to onlookers that would view it going down the street. In its bowels the baby blue walls peeled at the edges accompanied by a white staircase worn down by decades upon decades shoes, wet umbrellas and heavy trunks. Everything peeled and stained yet in its age it gained a serene kind of beauty which Acher appreciated very much.

He spent some time simply watching the tall window, halfway up his trip to the top of the winding staircase. An Alder tree grew in the courtyard, ashen bark covered in frost and weighed down by layers of snow. It stood motionless as there had been no wind for the last couple of days. Like this its branches seemed to be melting into the equally frozen window, casting spindly shadows.

Acher had never been to Mrs Pines' apartment, only her shop. But the woman did relay to him the exact number and location of her door on numerous occasions if anything were to happen to him. She said it so much that he often wondered how she did not just give him a spare key.

The fact that the woman did not have children was rather confusing. Surely it would be much more beneficial for her to be able to dote on her own baby rather than some stranger's child. He thought of it now, a tiny toddler with the woman's exact brows hair and kind eyes. How spoiled a child that would grow up in her home would be. Acher smiled lightly, something about that image pleasing him greatly.

Finally he arrived at the end of the short chilly hallway. Apartment number one. Rapping his knuckles against the door Acher stepped back and waited.

Some time passed without even a sound on the other end. Shuffling from one leg to another the blonde looked around, unsure. The boy knocked again, louder. Thankfully this time he heard footsteps.

The door opened and a figure of a woman Acher had never seen before rooted him in place. She was tall, with dark skin and even darker hair that curled around the span of her tall forehead like a black halo. Her face was of a mature sort of beauty, she must've been around 45, a faded blue bathrobe wrapped around her body in a way that made it starkly obvious that the garment was made for somebody much smaller therefore bearing some of her rather ample assets. A cigarette sat loosely between her lips, unlit.

"Uh." Acher stammered. "I'm sorry I must've..."

"You here for Mara?" She asked, her Scottish accent somehow even thicker with the tobacco in her mouth.

"Mara Pines?" Acher gawked at the stranger.

"Mara!" The woman yelled back into the apartment. "There's a kid here to see you!"

There was a loud sound, like an avalanche of various soap containers crashing to the ground among furious shuffling and thumping before another door opened and a person sprinted toward them.

"Oh my goodness!" Mara wheezed. She was also in a bath robe, with her hair all frazzled and cheeks flushed several shades of red. "H-Hi Acher, It's so nice to see you-!" The woman sputtered "What are you doing...um, here?"

Acher stared blankly at his aunt's state of general undress, eyes zeroing in on her bare neck where a collage of rosy bruises lay, as if a swarm of butterflies decided to gang up on her all at once, trying to extract some kind of imaginary nectar.

"It was Christmas yesterday." Tallhill stated after a prolonged silence.

"I-It was!" Mara nodded frantically, sending a quick scowl to the other woman leaning against the doorframe when she snickered into her palm, barely containing her laughter.

"Since you were...very busy," Mara's 'roommate' nearly burst at that, clamping her hand over her mouth. "I left you some cake me and my mum ate."

Mara Pines was flushed more red than a ripe tomato. She took the box of cake from Acher. "Ooh~ that's so sweet of you."

"Well!" Acher exclaimed. "I will be going now, since you are still busy and all that."

"Acher!" Mara gasped. Was it even possible for her to get more red? She somehow still managed to do so.

"Thank you for taking care of my aunt." Acher nodded to the other woman. "Miss...?"

"Havisham." The lady grinned, draping an arm over Mara's shoulder. "She's well taken care of indeed."

Acher nodded sagely which only prompted more embarrassed squawking from his aunt.

"Great! Then I'll be going now." Without any further words the blond turned around and stalked down the hallway, ignoring Miss Pines' parrot like blabbering and her lovers cackling laughter.

As he made his way back down the stairs Acher took another melancholic look at the Alder tree.

"I guess that answers the kid question..." He muttered.

Chapter Text

Acher looked at Severus blankly while scratching the side of his nose with the tip of his pinky. He then turned to Lily, the girl swaying on the balls of her feet with a smug expression next to Snape.

"He looks great." Acher said.

"No i do not!" Exclaimed Snape, sending Lily into a fit of laughter.

Arriving back at the train platform Acher was stunned to see the would-be potions professor's hair twisted into several pigtails and affectionately tied with glittery bows.

"Doesn't he look adorable?" The girl wrapped her hands around Severus's shoulders, shaking him from side to side.

Snape growled. "I lost a bet..."

"It's your fault for thinking you could ice skate better than me!" Lily pouted.

"The two of you went ice skating?" Tallhill asked, climbing up the little stairs and into the train. Struhanka mreowed affectionately around his shoulders, where she had made herself comfortable about half an hour into his strain ride from Salisbury to London. There she lay still, like a giant, white scarf with particularly long whiskers.

Giggling, Evans passed him in the train corridor, prancing up ahead with her hands behind her back. "What else are you supposed to do when it's this cold?"

"Literally anything else." Grumbled Snape.

Lily soon found a compartment for them, though it didn't seem to be actually unoccupied.

"Oh! Hi Remus!" Lily exclaimed after sliding open the doors of the cubicle. Acher stuck his head in and indeed found the lanky, ashen-haired boy sitting in the compartment. Alongside him sat a much smaller, chubby teen, who looked up at the two of them nervously.

"Lily!" Lupin said, eyebrows high in surprise.

"So good to see you! Can we come in? It's just us three!" The red head asked and without waiting for a reply made herself comfortable on the couch across them anyway.

Lupin didn't seem to mind, he just smiled warmly.

Acher turned to Snape and found the tell tale frown already etched onto his face. Deciding to cut the brooding short he tugged the Slytherin into the compartment and forced him to sit down next to Lily before he himself plopped down.

Lupins eyebrows climbed even higher up his forehead when he noticed Snape.

"Um-" he started.

"Don't." Snape bit out, the curt comment being enough to deter the Gryffindor from commenting anything about his current state of apparel. He then turned to Lily. "When can I take these out?"

"What!?" She exclaimed, offended. "You can't do so! I've just put them in!"

"It's been two hours!"

"That's way too short! A week at least!"

"You're out of your mind!"

Struhanka, awoken from her feeble sleep by the squawking of Acher's companions, stretched a little and attracted by the movement began to paw and tug at one of the colorful bows in Snape's hair.

"He does look quite nice, doesn't he?" Acher muttered to the cat, to which she began to pull at one of them with her teeth.

"They'll kill me for this in Slytherin." Snape said and that seemed to do it. Lily's mouth shut closed and she pouted and promptly deflated.

"Oh whatever..." She muttered, sulking down into her seat.

Acher pursed his lips and giving the matter a thought he spoke: "Maybe you should replace the bows with some other form of punishment?"

The red head bounced up immediately. "Yes! Snape! You will have your hair washed!"

"This again!?" The boy squawked, pulling the ribbons out of his hair. "Lily, I already told you, I DO wash my hair."

"Yes, and you use hand soap to do it!"

"That's normal!"

"That's the furthest thing from normal! It's called hand soap, not hair soap."

Acher sighed, taking one of the bows in Severus's hands he took his cat onto his lap and dangled it in front of her, watching as she grabbed at it with her claws.

Looking up he found Remus and the other boy sitting there, their gazes bouncing awkwardly between Acher's' two friends. Realizing Acher was looking at him Remus smiled and gave a little wave which Tallhill returned, only to be promptly bitten on the hand by Struhanka who thought it was another one of their games.

Lupin giggled quietly before speaking in a hushed voice. "This is Peter Pettigrew." He motioned to the boy next to him who promptly flushed and looked away.

Acher's' gaze pinned the other boy down like a bug to a board. He was small and chubby, with a pallid complexion and faint freckles. Mousy hair that had grown too long to lay over his forehead was instead pushed back behind the child's round ears, highlighting his bushy eyebrows and big cheeks.

"He lives with us in our dorm." Lupin explained further. Though before he could get even another word in Snape exclaimed loudly:

"For the last time, you can't see me bathe!"

Lily slumped in her seat even further, whining like a child."Why not? We bathed together all the time when we were kids!"

"It's just not the same!"

"I'll only wash your hair then!"

"No!"

"Fine!" She threw her hands up. "If I can't wash it then Acher will and you'll just show me the result."

Acher just looked at the two of them blankly like a fly on a wall that was suddenly included in a cat fight.

"I can just wash them on my own." Snape grit out, face a mortified red.

Lily crossed her arms and jutted her chin. "Nope! I don't trust you with that one bit! You'll just try to spell it clean or do something equally stupid." The look she gave him implied that that was definitely something he had tried before. "Acher will wash your hair, since you're not comfortable with me doing it. And that is your punishment!"

"Ughhh..." Snape clutched his head, curling in on himself.

"And when the clock strikes seven in the morning," Evans droned, poking Severus on the shoulder over and over again. "You'll appear in the dining halls my Lord! And I'll feast my eyes on your beautiful, de-oiled visage!"

"Stooooop!" Snape was so red he could pass as an honorary Gryffindor.

"Do we have a deal, Lord Tallhill?" Lily asked, craning so far off her seat to look at him Acher was afraid she'll topple off.

He looked at her blankly before extending his hand out. "But of course, Your Majesty."

They shook hands, Lily's face beaming.

"Not you too!" Snape exclaimed, glaring daggers at Acher.

Then, as soon as their hands separated the door to the compartment opened.

"Making deals, Evans?" James Potter stood in the doorway. His hair stuck out in every direction like the head of a dandelion, dark strands curling over his cheeks in a way that complemented his strong, more square jaw and high nose bridge. He was already in his uniform like the rest of them, the tie a little askew in a clear act of tween rebellion.

"What's it to you?" Lily replied, leaning back in her seat and arching an eyebrow.

"Nothing!" James beamed before craning his neck back to look down the hall. "Oy, Sirius!" He got into the compartment and plopped down next to Remus, giving him the tightest side-hug Acher had ever seen.

"Hey! You can't just sit here without getting permission!" Lily whined, putting her head on Snape's shoulder and subsequently covering him with the wave of her orange hair. Severus sputtered like a man drowned.

"You didn't do that either..." Pettigrew pointed out quietly.

"James you sod! Next time you leave me to do luggage by myself I'll chuck your stuff out the window!" Sirius Black appeared in the doorway. He was pale, aristocratic and polished down from the tips of his shoes to the top of his head. Yet there was an unmistakable wildness to him, a sparkle in the eye, a tuft of hair slipping out of the smooth ripple that framed his face.

To this James only smiled wider. "But you were so eager to show me how you can lift my suitcase one handed!"

"Piss off!" Black hissed before his eyes zeroed in on Remus and then ping ponged right back to James. "Scoot over, I want to sit next to Remus."

"Oh really?" Potter droned, somehow melting even further into his seat, one arm around Remus's shoulders. "But me and him just got comfortable. I think you'll have to sit across."

Sirius spun around and seemingly just realized there were actually other people in the compartment. He froze upon seeing Acher and Snape who were both looking at him already.

"What?" James giggled. "Afraid of getting bit by a couple snakes, Sirius?"

"Like hell I am!" Black sputtered and seemingly motivated by the inherent need to look tough on every occasion wedged himself right between Acher and the compartment wall.

It wasn't exactly the most comfortable fit. Acher was a good amount bigger than the others and therefore their bench was more strained on space. It would've actually been easier for Sirius to sit down next to Peter.

The train began to move and Remus and James instantly got into a conversation about a muggle murder-mystery book series that Lupin had recently lent to the other. It wasn't anything Acher was familiar with, though Potter was super enthusiastic about the whole thing like he had read a book like that for the first time in his life. Though, maybe he had. Seeing as he was a pureblood from a rich magical family so his life was probably very sheltered.

Acher briefly wondered whether the boy had ever seen movie or been on a roller coaster or an elevator. Whether he would've liked doing something like that. If he was this enthusiastic about a book he'd probably love it. Though the sensation of flying on a broom hundreds of meters in the air probably blew even airplanes out the water.

The sensation of Struhanka moving brought him out of his thoughts. He looked down only to find Sirius leaning ever so slightly over the cat, wagging his fingers in her face so that she'd try to clumsily chomp on them.

"She's lovely, isn't she?" Tallhill said.

Acher expected some kind of snappy comeback. After all, he and Sirius did not have a good track record, with him sending his brother to the hospital and all that.

What he got instead was Black giving Struhanka a thoughtful look.

"She is..." He let the cat bite him. Nothing serious as it was clear play fighting. "I've always wanted a cat..." Struhanka released his finger and started licking it instead. "But my father's allergic and even if he wasn't there's no way we'd have any pets in the house."

Struhanka rubbed her face over his hand, pushing herself as far as she could into his awaiting palm.

"She's purring!" Sirius exclaimed, eyes bright and the smile on his face wider and more genuine than anything Acher had seen up to that point. Struhanka, the greedy thing she was, sneaked onto Black's lap and began making biscuits on his thigh. "She likes me!" The Gryffindor beamed, not daring to touch the cat as she sat on him as if afraid the slightest touch would send her running away.

"Oh, she's making biscuits. I'm sorry." Acher apologized.

"What- ow! Ouch!" Sirius jumped. "Her claws are digging into my thigh!"

"Yeah...but she chose you so you're stuck..." Acher frowned.

"Take her off me!"

"There's nothing I can do." Tallhill raised his hands solemnly.

"Are you okay, Sirius?" Remus asked, looking worriedly at Black's red face.

"She's making holes in my uniform!"

Snape snickered, leaning over Acher to look at the cat as she made Black's pants into fish nets. "Can't handle a kitty walking over you?"

"Severus, you could barely handle her nuzzling you..." Acher looked at him blankly.

Struhanka stopped her kneading and went for Sirius' face instead, rubbing her little muzzle all over his chin and nose, nearly poking out an eye with one of her whiskers.

"Black, are you sure you don't have a jar of catnip somewhere in your pocket?" Lily snickered.

"I'm afraid this is all my natural charm." He retorted to which instantly both Lily and Snape rolled their eyes.

Snape leaned back in his seat, arms crossed. "She's just friendly with everyone."

"Have you pet her?" Asked Evans to which Severus nodded. "Aww, I haven't, that's not fair!"

"I have a dog you could pet Evans!" James said eagerly. "His name is Nebula! He's a black Labrador Retriever, super friendly."

Lily's eyes widened just at the mention of a dog. "That's wicked!"

"Really? James, you have to bring it to the station next year!" Remus looked at Potter excitedly, leaning into his friend.

James instantly flushed and looked away. "Well...it's sort of my grandparent's dog, actually. It lives with them in their villa in Ireland."

Both Lupin and Lily looked at Potter with blank, unimpressed stares.

"So you don't have a dog?" Evans said. "Didn't know you were a liar, Potter."

"Yeah, you totally got us excited for nothing..." Remus crossed his arms.

"W-We could go there this summer though!" James quickly added. "My grandparents love to have guests, they wouldn't be against it! Then you could meet Nebula!"

Lily perked back up. "That...sounds really nice! I'd love to go to Ireland."

Acher stole a glance at Snape and predictably the Slytherin was not having a great time. Severus was point blank scowling at Potter, a dark cloud hanging over his head. James seemingly noticed that though and quickly leaned forward with a smile surprisingly barren of any animosity.

"You can come too, Snape." He said, tilting his head in a way that made his smile look entirely too sweet.

"I'm not going to some middle of nowhere to pet a dog." Scoffed Snape.

"But you like potions, no?" James asked.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Potter made a face, one that communicated quite clearly that he was more than glad to be answering that question. "Saliza Potter is my grandmother, you know? Better known as Saliza Char." To Acher those words were absolutely meaningless, yet Snape's eyes widened instantly. "I'm sure she would love to share some of her knowledge with you, especially since she has her laboratory there." James swayed a bit, hands around the knee of his crossed legs, polished boot dangling.

You'd think that James was a Slytherin with the shark glint present in his eye. Though maybe it was simply a pureblood thing and wasn't as limited to the house as Acher previously thought.

Snape pressed his lips together, sitting silently for a couple seconds before hissing out. "I'll think about it..."

James made another face, one that suggested that he already won that war.

"Ugh...I don't feel so good..." Said Black suddenly.

All attention returned to the young Black heir, only to see the boy's face red and pink all over, his eyes swollen shut and nose runny. He looked like a stuffed animal version of a newborn baby. Struhanka was rubbing herself all over robes, leaving trails of white hair behind.

She was, of course, instantly confiscated from Sirius and spent the rest of their trip planted firmly in Lilly's lap where she could not move from, no matter how far Black extended his arms across their seats and pleaded to let him pet her again.

The evening turned to night quickly behind the foggy window, darkness falling with a swiftness characteristic of deep winter. It started to snow as well, thick snowflakes whipping against the glass. When they arrived most students had to take out additional hats and scarves to keep themselves warm as when they stepped out into the freezing air they found their school robes lacking. Soon after leaving the train they were ushered across the school grounds in large groups. Students laughed and chatted loudly, full of holiday cheer and eager to catch up with each other. Laughter echoed through the sparse tangle of trees as they made their way next to the lake on the south side.

Acher looked up yet no stars were there to greet him as the sky was overcast, instead, snow swirled around in the blackness as if the stars had dimmed and now began falling down like ash. Tallhill stuck out his tongue, catching a couple.

"What's so interesting up there?" Sirius asked.

Acher startled and looked down, not having realized the boy was walking next to him as he was previously at the front, where the rest of his group was, Lily chatting animatedly with Remus, with Severus at her side and James hanging off of Lupin like a Christmas decoration.

Sirius face looked much better than it did previously, with Struhanka kept firmly in Remus's arms where she could do no more damage and where she still seemed happy to be.

Acher looked back up. "It's pretty." He said simply.

Sirius chuckled. "Yeah, but I can seldom see anything if the snow is falling into my eyes."

They walked in silence for a bit before Acher said quietly: "You're not mad at me."

"What?" Black asked, looking away from the sky and towards him instead.

"For hitting your brother."

"I am," Black said immediately, if a bit harshly. But then his temper cooled and he looked down at the thin layer of snow he was trudging through. "And I'm not going to say he deserved it..." He paused then and sighed. "I don't like what Slytherin has been doing to him. He needed to be brought down a peg and it seems you did knock a little bit more sense into him."

"You worry for him." Acher stated and Sirius did not deny.

"He has always been sensitive." Black whispered, his voice gentle, speaking in such a tender way about something that made Acher realize he would never be able to comprehend it. Not like Sirius did. "Which is why it was so disturbing when he suddenly became all cold." He sucked in a long, heavy breath. "That's not him...not Reggie."

Acher thought for a bit before speaking, his voice low."Slytherin is a tough place to be in, I'm assuming it's even worse when you have expectations placed on you."

Black's jaw clenched. "I may have...made that worse..."

"Hm?"

"I didn't go to Slytherin, like I was supposed to." He said and it sounded more like a confession than anything. "So now my brother is stuck trying to prove himself to be something he isn't. Pick up my slack."

Tallhill found himself at a loss for words, caught awkwardly in a situation much larger and more alien than him. "You should speak to him about this."

"I- yeah..." Sirius' face was hard to see in the dark but the expression he was making showed just how harrowing the mere thought of doing that was to him. He ran his fingers through his hair, some strands having slicked and frozen over with the snow. His ears were an angry red and he sniffed, throwing another warming charm onto himself.

Acher took off his own hat and pushed it onto Sirius' head. The boy squawked, lifting up the brim that had fallen over his eyes as he gaped at Tallhill.

"I'm sure he would appreciate it." Is all the blond said.

"What are you guys talking about back there?" James called to the two of them, having craned his neck back. He didn't even need to call, they were like one meter behind... "Oh, Sirius is wearing Tallhill's hat!"

"What!?" Lily exclaimed, and now the entire group was looking back at the two of them like they were witnessing some kind of marriage affair. "Aw, he really is!"

"Looking so cozy, Sirius. Like a bug in a rug!" James jeered.

"Shut up!" Bit back Sirius, swatting the other overtop of his head.

Potter extended his hand back. "Hey! Let me wear it!"

"Piss off! You've got enough protection with that bird's nest of yours!"

Acher looked at all of it with mild amusement. He didn't know something as brazen as a hat could conjure this much interest. Then, his hand was suddenly grabbed by none other than Snape and he was unceremoniously tugged forward until he was walking in tandem with him and Lily.

Tallhill looked down at Snape, giving the boy a questioning look. He stopped himself from saying anything though, as Snape's face, halfway covered with a scarf, was very red and his eyes were trained on the path. He looked to be having enough trouble with the winter chill so Acher spared him any questions. Instead, the boy focused on walking up the castle stairs as they had finally arrived at Hogwarts.

The welcoming feast was rowdier than the opening year one as there were no first years to take care of. Just children and teens who knew each other, talking, eating and in many cases doing both at the same time. Acher and Snape thankfully avoided any conversation with the other Slytherins and managed to eat and slip into their dorm undisturbed. No fooling around at all.

That was until about one in the morning.

"I'll dice you up and cook you if we get caught." Snape hissed as they traversed the short, dark hallway and entered the boys bathroom.

"It was Lily's idea." Acher shrugged, setting down his pack of toiletries and turning on the faucets in the big, empty bath at the farthest room of the bathroom. There, the light was even dimmer and there were no windows, just low, orange lights that blended into the marbled, black and green tiles.

"I'll boil her as well. You all will be going into the same pot." Severus grumbled, standing there in his pajamas, hands pushed awkwardly into his pockets and eyeing the shampoos Acher took out as if they would gain legs, run up to him and swallow him whole.

"Yeah? And what kind of potion would that be?"
Acher asked, measuring the temperature of the rapidly filling bath with his hand.

"One that turns the one drinking it into a moron."

Acher smiled softly, which only seemed to make Snape more irritated. "Alright," Acher said, clapping his hands, then he took off his own pajamas and jumped right in. The water splashed loudly, beads flying everywhere. It was wonderfully warm.

"I thought I was supposed to get cleaned." Snape glared, the bottom of his pants now soaked.

Acher lay submerged up to the ears in the bath, only his face above the water. "Yeah," He said, pulling out his hands and making a grabby motion. "C'mere."

"Okay, just... turn around." The boy grumbled and Tallhill did as he asked by diving down into the pool to look at the tiles below.

When Snape was in the bath he had him turn around so Acher could thoroughly comb out his hair. There were small knots at the base of his neck that he had to pick out, and the small hairs around his forehead were also slightly matted. Tallhill lathered up the hair with rosemary shampoo and began to massage it in until it bubbled, working with each section of the hair individually.

"Rosemary..." Snape said suddenly as Acher worked the shampoo into the last section of his hair.

"Yeah, my aunt makes this particular brand."

"The one who wrote to you at Christmas?"

Acher hummed. They waited a bit for the shampoo to set in (a step which Snape grumbled endlessly about being redundant), before washing it out.

"Now for the conditioner."

"I thought that stuff was for women?" Snape squinted through the cascade of wet, black hair.
When all Acher did was stare at him Severus blushed and looked down. "Is what my dad said...I don't know..."

"Conditioner makes your hair easier to brush, out, it moisturizes it and protects it." The blond said, snapping the lid closed after getting a good amount on his hand.

"Well I don't need all that. Doesn't it just have to be clean?" Snape grumbled as Acher began to work it into his dark tresses.

"Shampoo is for cleaning, and the conditioner is for maintenance."

"Soap seemed to do both of those things well enough..." Snape muttered. "Plus it's cheap, unlike all that other fancy stuff. What am I even doing here, I'll look ridiculous..."

Acher combed the conditioner in. He wasn't going to berate Snape for his hygiene habits. It was a thing that a person had to be taught as they grew up and if your school was not willing and your parents were neglectful you had no frame of reference for what to do and not to. Plus, young boys tended to have the outlook that hygiene simply wasn't that important, which was a lethal way of thinking when they moved into their teenage years and started to sweat and grow body hair.

Better teach them young. Acher thought, gathering more conditioner at the ends of Snape's hair. It was actually quite thick and there weren't many split ends but Tallhill preferred to be cautious so he applied some more of the blueberry scented liquid.

"You have very pretty hair." Acher said. "I'll give you shampoo to use."

"What?" Snape whipped his head back. "You can't just give that to me!"

Acher gripped the boy's skull and twisted his face forward again so he could keep working. "I can. I've got plenty of this stuff lying around. Every scent you want."

"That's so much money..." Snape whispered.

"I get it for free in, honestly, ridiculous quantities." Acher shrugged before rolling the back of Snape's hair into a loose knot. "Alright, now wait here and I'll do my own hair."

He washed it out and pressed in his own conditioner before applying another cream and scrunching it into his hair. Snape watched the entire process on the other end of the bath, moody and soaked, with water up to his chin and stewing in it like a toad.

"Having fun?" Acher asked, face barely visible beneath the cascade of golden ringlets.

Snape grumbled something and sank further into the bath.

Soon they washed out Snape's hair as well, pruny and red they scrambled out of the water and into the chill air wrapping themselves up in towels. Snape's hair was a glistening , long, obsidian ripple around his head. It smoothed down his pale shoulders like a black curtain and clung gently to his face. Acher wrung out excess water out of it with expert fingers before pulling out his wand and beginning to dry it from root to tip.

They sat at the edge of the bath and Snape, for all his previous embarrassment, seemed more than content to simply sit in just his towel, warm air blowing through his locks.

When Acher finished he had Severus turn back around. Snape's hair reflected the green-orange light of the bathroom along its slick surface, becoming more so a black mirror on which the glow could reflect instead of sink into like before. Now that it was dry small wisps escaped at the hairline and the ends, framing Severus's pale visage. Acher reached out and carded his fingers through the bangs to tussle them a bit, feeling the strands along his digits.

"Do I look like a moron?" Snape asked quietly, brows furrowed.

Tallhill looked at him, truly looked at him, with his uncomfortable expression yet wide and hopeful eyes, clutching his towel around himself like it would protect him from some unseen enemy.

"You look like a crow." Acher said.

Snape blinked before his face reddened and he asked: "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Their feathers are black and they gleam in the sun." Acher tapped the other boy on the forehead. "Perhaps we should go outside tomorrow, to see if they will accept you into their flock." Cocking his head to the side the blond blinked. "I quite like crows, they are very smart but also very pompous, quite like you-"

Snape didn't really seem to like that comparison as he pushed Acher back into the bath.

The real reveal came the next day though, when Acher and Snape met Lily while setting up their potions equipment for the day.

"Sev!" She exclaimed, running over after dumping her bag down. "You look so good!" Evans gushed, looking at him from every possible angle.

"Really...?" Snape muttered, awkwardly tugging at the ends of his hair.

"May I touch it?" She asked, eyes wide and gleaming. Upon receiving a nod she started touching a section of his hair with careful fingers. "Acher, you're an artist." The girl gushed. "His hair is so smooth!"

"It's not that much of a difference..." Snape muttered.

"Smoother than a baby's bum!"

Snape flushed.

Lily slapped Acher on the back a bunch of times like an old uncle. "I am in awe at what you've done here, Lord Tallhill! Tis' commendable work, indeed!"

Acher dipped into a flamboyant bow. "But of course, Your Majesty. I always fulfill the crown's request."

"This beast was quite a burden to vanquish, no?"

"Black and gnarly, it grumbled all the way through. But I managed." Acher said. "I even got dragged underwater at some point."

"How terrible!" She exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

Lily burst into laughter practically tumbling into Acher.

"Will you two stop it!" Snape yelled.

Soon the rest of Gryffindor arrived and even James could not keep the shock off of his face when he saw Snape. Sirius, for all his pureblood charm, was the first to try to touch the hair without permission and, honestly, it was a miracle the poor sod didn't get his eyes scratched out. Only Remus out of the Marauders was allowed the grace of touching one, small lock on Snape's head. (after being told to pay up a fee of 5 sickles that is)

[...]

Acher's mother bought him a notebook for Christmas. It was an unassuming thing, with a blank cover of a rough, paper texture and equally dull, tan coloring. Inside it lacked any pattern, just crisp parchment. What made it stand out was its sheer girth though, 200 pages, way more than what you would find in an average school notebook. She also bought him some pens after their last conversation, ballpoint black, giving a thin line.

The writing was smooth and made each line Acher made quite a delight so he found himself eagerly putting down everything he had learned over the last few years.

"Water is cold...inherently, like metal..." Acher drew, biting down on the nail of his pinky. "But metal can also belong to the fire category, as it can be heated and molded. But so can most things...Metal needs to be its own separate thing...or can I tag it onto earth?"

The diagram was, in all honesty, becoming a ripe mess. Though perhaps there was no use in despairing over that as all notes Acher took seemingly veered in that same direction sooner or later. The fire tree, a large diagram of connected notes, names and ideas spanned over four pages and deformed at the end into a wall of text. What started as simple instructions on the way of flame generating soon evolved into a discussion of all other connected concepts, such as light generation, color and the different types that can be achieved (also whether that involved increasing the temperature or pinching the flow of magic at a particular point), how tall can you make, what's the possible control one can exert over a flame, what is flammable and what isn't, etc.

A lot of the research present was things he found in other books at the library. Those were quite dusty and small tomes since as it turns out not many people study elemental material this in-depth. Many classifications seemed to also be wrong. A lot of scholars didn't include things like stinging hexes into the magma category despite the fact that those were comparable in intensity to a candle flame and worked on the same basis. At least according to what Acher had tested out. Which is why the hex was present in his notes (and why he may or may not have added an annotation to the library book as well).

When it came time to note down the things he had learned on water the diagram was a bit clearer than the previous one, though much more complex. Water had a lot of different states, not all of which Acher was familiar with in terms of magic. In fact, most scholars divided water and ice into separate categories, and some separated steam as well. (one Belarusian witch was even adamant about giving water above boiling temperature its own classification)

There were a lot of vague lines involved in the classification process, most of which were established based on the writer's own personal bias and experience. Though that seemed to be the norm with things so ingrained in nature, humanity was really the only being on earth so partial to strict categorization of different elements. Basically everything else in the universe couldn't care less.

Should Acher care then?

The boy paused and looked above his notebook at the half frozen ground before him. He was sitting on a step of the jagged, stone path leading to the side of the castle, overlooking Hagrid's hut and the forest. Spring was just barely staring, softening the frozen earth and allowing it to peak through the white snow.

There was a contrast between the dirt and the frost, yes, but the two often blended together. Placing his palm on the ground Tallhill could feel the crystals of frost beneath him as his magic ran languidly around them, careful not to disturb any. That snow didn't just exist on the surface, it conjoined with the water in the earth, it clung to roots of weeds and grass, becoming a part of the world itself. And when the frost would melt where would it go? Up into the sky and down into the river, then sucked up by plants or animals, becoming something completely different yet still integrated into a bigger whole.

Things having their own strict time and place was a human concept. In reality things just exist. Unbound, ever-changing and multifaceted.

Acher pulled his hand back and noted down his thoughts before conjoining the massive water tree to the couple notes on frost he had.

Perhaps he should stop looking at things in such a black and white way as well. All those textbook definitions were getting to him.

He summoned a single flame above his index finger and then tried to rapidly cool his magic in the way he summoned water. The flame screeched and was instantly snuffed out. Acher huffed, resting his head in his palm. Maybe going from fire straight to water was too radical of a change...

Something fluttered above him suddenly, a shadow passed, small and innocuous. Acher looked up in confusion as it twirled down from the sky like a dead leaf before careening sharply to the side and into the snow covered bushes next to him.

Acher watched those bushes silently for a couple seconds, unsure of what to do before pocketing his things as he stood up and shuffled over to the shrubbery. Picking away at the branches the boy felt something small and soft with his fingers. He cradled it and picked it up slowly.

"Maly Rytier..." Acher whispered. The bird was definitely him. He could recognize the exact shape and spacing of his brandings even if he had to pick from a thousand other sparrows.

"Rytier?" The boy asked. His body lay still in Acher's palm, soft feathers light and cold against his skin. The bird's eyes were closed. Acher brought him close, cradling him against his chest like he had done a thousand times before. He still didn't move.

"Oi! Little snake! What are ye doing 'ere?" A voice startled him.

Hagrid was making his way up the stone path, his large form made even more towering by the thick, fur coat draped over his shoulders. There were cut up logs of wood under his arm that looked more like branches in his massive hold.
He walked right up to Acher, smiling wide.

"What 'ave you got there?" He asked gruffly. "Ah! A little bird!"

"His name is Maly Rytier." Acher said.

The man laughed. "Creative name! I've got no clue what it means!" Then he stopped and his gaze became more analytical. "Ah, he doesn't look so good, does he?" He leaned down.

"He's not moving..." Acher whispered, showing the bird to Hagrid.

The giant lightly touched the animal, his thick fingers just barely disturbing the feathers on the birds head. His frowned deepened. "Ah, laddie, I'm afraid this one has already passed..."

"What...?" Acher looked to the bird again. "No...Maly Rytier....he had always been there. Ever since I was young..." His eyes jumped back up to Hagrid, wide and disbelieving. "He was fine just few months ago, I promise!"

Hagrid sighed and placed his large hand on Acher's head. "Acher, everythin' dies. That's the nature of it."

Acher... Acher knew that. Of course everything dies. It is one of the most obvious truths of this world. Yet he found himself so...disturbed. Not only saddened, but rattled. Chills ran up his spine as he stared at Rytiers body, his palms suddenly feeling itchy.

Hagrid, perhaps sensing that something was wrong, gently scooped up the bird from Acher's hands. It looked so fragile in his large palms, the sight made Acher's throat dry.

"Come on, lad." Hagrid said, eyes kind. "Let's find him some place to rest, hm?"

Acher followed the giant down the hill and watched with detachment as the man dug a shallow hole underneath a barren willow. When Rytier's body was covered by the solil Hagrid stepped back and placed a tentative hand around the boys shoulders. Cold wind filtered through the trees, making the branches creak ever so slightly and the light dimmed, shielded by the late winter clouds.

Staring at the small burial mound Acher got a horrible cold feeling, as if instead, he was the one buried underneath the pile of icy earth. He shivered, despite the overwhelming warmth of Hagrid's body so close to his. Something was wrong, as if some kind of screw had been knocked loose. He suddenly found the back of his mind...itchy. He scratched his skull yet it provided no relief against the feeling.

The sound of heavy footsteps made Acher look away from the burial. A shape emerged out of the trees to his left. Tall and gangly, akin to a horse yet...wrong. Its skin glistened in the light, leathery and dark grey, sunken, skeletal face adorned with small stubby horns and a bird's beak.

Acher watched it silently, transfixed as the creature bowed its head low and sniffed at the ground. Then it raises it again and its milky yellow eye looked at the burial site before slowly rising to meet Tallhill's eyes.

Acher felt sick.

The creature knew him.

"Ah..." Hagrid said. "Don't be afraid, lad. That's a Thestral. They often come 'round at this time of year, fond of the cold they are." The giant sighed. "The herd should be somewhere close then." His hand tightened on his shoulder, trying to be reassuring. "They are attracted to death, probably why this one is so curious."

Attracted to death? Rytier's death?

Of course, who else's?

The creature didn't look away from him. Seemingly disinterested in the grave under the tree.

His own...?

His own death. When did that happen? It felt like a lifetime ago. Or was it yesterday?

Now that he thought about it. How did he die?

Staring into the eye of the Thestral, Acher realized that he could not remember.