Chapter Text
There was something strange going on at Hogwarts.
It was a beautiful, late spring day. Flowers bloomed all over the grounds, weaving colour around the brown stone castle, and the sky was the perfect shade of blue. The sun was beginning to grow more intense in the anticipation of summer, so students began trading their robes and blazers in for just waistcoats or jackets, as the heat began to settle.
It had been a little over a month since Violet Finch had returned from St. Mungo’s. Students had whispered about her new white hair, and the suspicious circumstances around Professor Spindle’s death. Everyone knew Rookwood was involved, but they didn’t quite know how. The Daily Prophet was useless as well. It was just filled with things about the last Headmaster, Professor Black.
As there was insufficient information to keep fuelling the rumour mill, the students quickly moved on. They had heard Imelda Reyes was hosting Quidditch try-outs early this year, in hopes of getting ahead of the future competition in next year’s Quidditch season.
It was rumoured that Lucan Brattleby and Zenobia Gonk had become close, and had been seen kissing among the shelves in the library – much to Madam Scribner’s annoyance.
Yet, this was not the strange thing – the strange thing, was that Hogwarts was…peaceful, for once. Mundane. Normal.
Even Peeves the Poltergeist seemed to be taking a holiday from mischief. He had traded in taunting first years, knocking over suits of armour, and making rude noises for leisurely strolling the corridors and picking up bits of litter. It was very…unnerving. Some students thought that maybe the other ghosts had finally let him rejoin in the Deathday Parties. Others thought he was perhaps in the middle of some sort of posthumous mid after-life crisis.
But naturally, where there was peace and quiet, there would also be those intent on disturbing it.
Garreth Weasley had been very happy lately. He and his girlfriend, Anne Sallow, had been going out for fourth months now, his potions seemed to be going well, and it’d been a while since he’d had a detention. To top it all off, Sebastian Sallow had stopped groaning and rolling his eyes whenever he was nearby. Things were finally starting to look up for Garreth. Until he had potions with Professor Sharp.
“Some of you seem to have forgotten already the potions you learned for your O.W.L.s.” Professor Sharp said, addressing his class of sixth years. “The worst thing a wizard or witch can be is complacent. Do not assume that just because the school have already tested you on certain things,” he paused, looking out at his class “That they will not come up again in the N.E.W.T exams.”
The class groaned; well, everyone except Violet Finch and Amit Thakkar. Professor Sharp couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something strange about those two. Where other students were eager to avoid homework, assignments, and revision, they were all but happy to oblige. Perhaps it was just the Ravenclaw in them. They were a strange house.
“Get out your cauldrons. Today we will be brewing the Draught of Peace. Please try and avoid looking in your text books unless necessary – real life will not provide you with instructions.” Professor Sharp went to retrieve the necessary ingredients from the store cupboard.
“Pfft,” Garreth grinned “A Draught of Peace? That’s easy. I could brew that in my sleep.”
Ominis and Sebastian, who were sharing a station with Garreth, looked up at him.
“In that case maybe you can help me brew mine,” Ominis said “Since you’re such a potions prodigy.”
Garreth chuckled “Flattery won’t work on me today, mate. This is the day I’m going to knock the socks off Professor Sharp!”
“I hope you mean metaphorically,” Sebastian said, as kindly as he was able to. “Remember that time in second year you made him lose all his hair?”
“Remember that time in third year you broke a jar of Pixie dust and Professor Sharp refused to let you into the classroom for a week?” Ominis joined in, laughing.
Sebastian smiled “Or that time you tried bringing in your own ingredients and tried using fwooper farts in the Pepperup potion?”
“I remember that!” Ominis exclaimed “You gave it to everyone who had a cold, and then the hospital wing was swamped with people with huge feet.”
“Or how about – ” Sebastian began, but Garreth interrupted. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up guys. That was the old Garreth. The inexperienced Garreth. This Garreth is on a winning streak with potions. Look!”
Excitedly, Garreth flipped to the back of his notebook. On the back page, he had scrawled the words: Days since last (Potions related) accident. Beneath it were scores of tally marks.
“Wow, nearly one hundred days?” Sebastian said.
“Yep!” Garreth said proudly “I am a potions aficionado. A connoisseur, if you will.”
“A what?” Sebastian asked.
“A connoisseur,” Ominis said “Professor Brown told us about those in Muggle Studies, remember? They’re people who like wine.”
“I thought those were just alcoholics?”
“Guys!” Garreth exclaimed, trying to reclaim their attention “If you don’t mind, I was about to reveal my master plan!”
“Ugh,” Sebastian moaned “And what is your master plan?”
Garreth grinned – he had the sort of smile a persuasive, yet oily, businessman would possess. “I’m glad you asked, Sallow! Today I’m going to brew the Draught of Peace in thirty minutes.”
Sebastian blinked, unimpressed. “Is that it?”
“Doesn’t it take ninety minutes to make, though?” Ominis asked, looking concerned.
“Yes. That is what will make it impressive. And if I brew this potion in the next thirty minutes, I’m free to work on my own…extra-curricular potions.”
“Are you allowed to do that?” Ominis asked, still looking concerned.
“Yes,” Garreth said confidently “Sharp and I have come to an agreement. As long as I don’t bother him and complete the work in a timely and accident-free manner, I can do what I want.”
Professor Sharp returned with the ingredients, and Garreth began making the Draught of Peace. He didn’t even need the instructions, much to the dismay of Sebastian, who had been hoping to copy from him.
While his cauldron was bubbling away, he took out some parchment, and began refining the recipe for his latest concoction: he had been working for some time of a special formula that would make ice-lollies unmeltable in the sun. If he could perfect it by summer, he could make a fortune selling ice-lollies! Then he would be able to buy something nice for Anne.
Maybe something that complimented her eyes.
Garreth wished Anne was in his classes, now. He would love to show off to her how good he’d gotten at potions – and flying, and herbology, and astronomy, and all his lessons. Sure, he wasn’t at Amit or Violet’s level, but he really had matured. Part of that was due to her.
Sadly though, she was in class with the fifth years – if she could pass her O.W.L.s this year, then she could move up to sixth year next year. It meant she was a year behind, despite being the same age as him.
From the corner of his eye, Garreth saw Sebastian, leaning on his desk, admiring Violet from afar. Maybe it was a good thing Anne wasn’t in his class, otherwise he’d be a round-eyed little moon calf like Sallow, staring at his girlfriend the entire time.
Suddenly, Garreth heard a bang. Ominis, who sat on his left, had fallen on the floor.
Garreth stood up from his stool and peered over the edge. “Ominis, mate? You alright?”
Ominis was sprawled on the floor, his eyes closed. He let out a relaxed, easy breath.
“What’s wrong?” Sebastian asked, walking over to him.
“He’s asleep!” Garreth said, looking at him.
“What?” Sebastian frowned “But…why?” concerned for his friend, Sebastian knelt down and tried to shake Ominis awake – but it was no good.
Suddenly, Garreth saw Imelda also crash to the floor. She let out a long, drawn out snore. Garreth looked to the cauldrons at his station. One of them was over bubbling, and letting off a thick, blue steam.
Professor Sharp looked up from his own stack of marking, and quickly hobbled over to the class. “What is going on?”
“It’s the potion!” Garreth exclaimed, covering his nose. “It’s knocking people out!”
Professor Sharp raised his wand. “Evanesco!” he pointed it at the cauldrons on Garreth’s station, and all three vanished into thin air. Unfortunately, four more students were knocked out: Adelaide Oakes, Leander Prewett, Nerida Roberts – and Sebastian himself.
“Sebastian!” Violet exclaimed, running over to him. Professor Sharp held out an arm, stopping her from reaching him.
“Stay back,” he said “We all need to evacuate the room. We don’t know how potent the fumes are.”
Professor Sharp began to usher the students out of the classroom into the empty corridor. “Amit, please go and fetch Madam Blainey,” he said calmly. Amit nodded, and ran off towards the Infirmary. Quietly, simmering with anger, Professor Sharp turned towards Garreth.
“Mr Weasley,” he said evenly “Take yourself to the Headmistresses office at once.”
“What?” Garreth exclaimed “But why?
“You’re Draught of Peace was clearly responsible for this. You were close by to those affected.”
Garreth’s eyes widened. “But – but sir. I…my potion was fine, I swear!”
Professor Sharp shot Garreth a frosty look. “Given your history for experimenting, forgive me for not suspending my disbelief.”
“But Professor!” Garreth continued “I - ”
“Enough!” Professor Sharp shouted “Professor Weasley’s office. NOW!”
The rest of Sharp’s potions class stared quietly at Garreth, watching as his cheeks flamed scarlet from shame. Poppy shot him a sympathetic look, while Violet tried to smile at him reassuringly. It didn’t work though.
With a heavy heart, Garreth slumped off towards the Headmaster’s office. As he neared the stone gargoyle that concealed the Headmistress’ office, he racked his brains trying to recall what had gone wrong.
Garreth might’ve been a little quick in trying to brew the Draught of Peace, but he had been careful. For him, brewing a potion that simple had been mere child’s play. He hadn’t even needed to use his textbook.
Sighing, Garreth shook his head. He couldn’t pinpoint what had gone wrong, and by the time he was sat in front of Professor Weasley, Headmistress of Hogwarts – his own aunt – he was quite ready for the Earth to open up and swallow him whole.
When it’d been announced a few weeks earlier that his Aunt had been made Headmistress of Hogwarts, Garreth had been over the moon for her. No one had worked harder than his Aunt Matilda, and she deserved it. He had even secretly hoped that maybe she would finally start to go a little easy on him.
This was not at all the case. In fact, since becoming Headmistress of Hogwarts, she had become harder on Garreth than ever; it was something that Violet, had been able to sympathise with him about. Her own guardian, Professor Hecat, had frequently given her a hard time about things. Violet reckoned it was something to do with trying to not show favouritism.
As he stood before his Aunt, Garreth tried to look her in the eye. She would know, at least, that he was telling the truth.
Professor Weasley sat behind the large oak desk in the Head’s office. Her lips were pursed into a tight line. It was the look she always head on her face whenever she was dealing with Garreth.
“What did you do this time?” Professor Weasley asked, unable to keep the exasperation out of her voice.
Garreth scoffed “Nothing!”
Professor Weasley stared at him, silently.
“I mean it!” Garreth protested “I’m an innocent bystander in all this! Something went wrong in potions, with the Draught of Peace, and caused some people to fall asleep and – ”
Professor Weasley held her hand up. “Enough,” she sighed, taking her glasses off her face, and rubbing her eyes. “What am I going to do with you, Garreth? You’re in your sixth year of school! If you haven’t matured yet then I really don’t know what to say to you anymore.”
“Aunt Matilda!” Garreth cried, fumbling for the tally chart he’d shown Sebastian “I promise it wasn’t me, look! I’ve kept track of how long it’s been since I last messed up a potion.”
Professor Weasley glanced at the tally chart, then looked back up at Garreth. She sighed once more, then stood up. “It seems an investigation is in order.”
Garreth’s heart soared with hope. “You mean – you believe me?”
“I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt until I have gathered all the facts. But given your reputation, and my new role as Headmistress, I may be required to punish you anyway.”
Garreth’s face fell “So even if I am innocent…even if it wasn’t my fault…I get punished anyway?”
“We’ll have to see,” Professor Weasley said, smoothing down her blazer “I have to be fair and just to all students. Stay here for the time being, and do not get into any more trouble.”
Garreth waited until his Aunt had left her office before he gave a childish pout. Fair and just to all students. What utter dragon dung that was! There seemed to be nothing fair and just about being punished when you were completely innocent. He’d been in trouble loads of times before, and was usually the first to admit it when he’d done something wrong – not that it mattered, for all the good it did him.
And he had matured. There was a time last year when he’d asked Violet to pinch some Billywig Stings for him from Honeydukes – and for some crazy reason, that Garreth never understood, Violet had agreed. Now, he would never ask his friend to steal for him. Not without leaving money behind, anyway.
The more Garreth brooded over this subject, the fouler his mood got. No one at all seemed to notice he’d changed and had, in fact, matured. They just all seemed to think he was Professor Weasley’s nephew, who messed up his experiments.
“If you keep scowling,” said a croaky, stern voice “You’re face will freeze like that.”
Garreth looked in the direction of the voice. Perched on a soft velvet cushion, in a glass case, was the Sorting Hat.
“Shut up,” Garreth hissed “Who rattled your cage?”
The Sorting Hat was made from creased leather that made it look old and wrinkled. It had two indents for eyes, and spoke from a tear at the brim of the hat. Ignoring Garreth’s comment, the hat continued to speak. “Do you know how many times you’ve been sent to the Head’s office during your time at Hogwarts?”
Garreth ignored the hat. He folded his arms and looked away from it; but the Sorting Hat did not feel it needed Garreth’s permission to continue. He was a hat that had been alive for centuries. He’d seen the seeds of legacies, of generations, sprout, reach their peak, and die.
“One hundred and thirty six.” The Sorting Hat continued. “Not quite as bad at this one student I knew years ago. She was sent to the Head’s office over two hundred times, and – ”
“Shut up!” Garreth shouted “Just shut up! No one cares! You’re just a musty old hat!”
The Sorting Hat moulded it’s face, so it looked rather indignant at being shouted at, and being called musty. “All right,” the hat muttered defensively “No need to get leary.”
“I’m not being leary!” Garreth shouted again. “You ought to be replaced. Look at you! You’re falling apart at the seams. It’s lucky we only ever have to put you on out head once!”
By this time, his was directing the full force of his anger at the hat – and it felt good. Better than good. It was delicious. There was something sickening, yet addictive, about lashing out at people who were smaller, less powerful than you. It was like picking at a scab; you shouldn’t do it, but it was also very satisfying.
The Sorting Hat’s face twisted into a snarl “I bet you wouldn’t say that to my face, you coward!”
Little did Garreth know, he had fallen for the Sorting Hat’s bait, hook, line, and sinker. Since the Sorting Hat had sorted thousands of students over the centuries into the four different Hogwarts houses, he knew exactly how to wind them up.
For Slytherins, you had to hurt their pride. With Ravenclaw’s, you had to lure them into a complex debate, and for Gryffindor’s you had to simply imply they were yellow-bellied chickens. The Sorting Hat, however, did not know how to wind up a Hufflepuff. In all its years, it had never quite dared to do such a thing.
So, as the Sorting Hat predicted, Garreth marched over to the glass case, flung it up and pointed his finger in the Sorting Hat’s face. “I said that – ow!”
The Sorting Hat bit Garreth’s finger, wit its frayed leather mouth. Garreth wailed in pain “Let go!”. He fought against the steel grip of the Sorting Hat, desperately trying to free his finger. “You son of a –”
But Garreth did not get to finish his swear.
As he flailed his hand around, the glass case began to rock back and forth, until it was teetering precariously at the edge. Garreth held his breath for a moment. The Sorting Hat, realising its predicament, finally let go of his hand.
All Garreth could do, as he cradled his sore finger in his hand, was watch breathlessly as the glass case crashed to the ground.
The panes shattered into diamond shards. “Er,” Garreth said, his voice barely audible above the sound of his heart racing loudly in his ears “Sorting Hat? You okay?”
There was no reply.
“Sorting Hat?” Garreth, using his feet, moved aside the broken case and shards of glass. “Please say something.”
The Sorting Hat did not retort with a sharp quip. It simply laid there, pathetically, a lump of old creased leather.
Retrieving his wand from his robes, Garreth prodded the Sorting Hat experimentally. “Come on, say something you useless hat.” Garreth chuckled hoping to goad it. Still nothing.
Taking a big, deep breath, Garreth decided at last to risk touching the Sorting Hat. He picked it up with his thumb and forefinger. As he lifted it from the ground, the tear that made the Sorting Hat’s mouth gaped open.
To Garreth’s horror, he realised the hat had almost been severed in two. It was hanging on together by only a few stitches.
Garreth felt the colour drain from his face. “Oh fuck.”