Chapter Text
Fig, a new student has appeared in the roster as a fifth year. Since it is clear they have never done magic before today, I’m putting you in charge of teaching them the basics. Go see Professor Weasley for more details and the address. Headmaster Black.
Eleazar Fig frowns at the letter, before motioning the harried owl permission to return to his foul tempered owner. Naturally, with only a month left before the school term, now he does something about it. Deputy Headmistress Weasley no doubt had to remind him, and Black immediately dumped the task onto Fig. As if the death of his wife and the case around it suddenly closing wasn’t enough on his plate.
But orders are orders, so Fig leaves his classroom and heads for Mathilda’s office. He finds her flipping through the roster book. As he approaches, Mathilda looks up and gives a strained smile.
“Ah Fig, it’s good to see you.” She says, standing. “I understand that after…well, if you don’t want to, I’ll ask another staff member to teach our new fifth year.”
Fig returns the tired grin. “No, no, I think I can manage to be a tutor for a month. Now then, who is our student and where can I find them?”
“Ah, well, Siofra Gentlehaven is the name, and currently she’s just entered Newcastle.”
“Entered?” Fig asks, curiosity rapidly growing.
Mathilda chuckles to herself, as it’s been so long since she’s seen her colleague smile. She hopes that tutoring a new student will put a spring back in his step. But for now, “Yes, entered, Fig. Ever since her name’s appeared in the roster, her home address has changed. Who knows why she’s on the move, but be prepared for anything.”
Fig nods, commits the address to memory, and then apparates to an alleyway somewhere in Newcastle. Adjusting his scarf, a wedding gift from Miriam that he hardly takes off, Fig hopes that people simply pass him off as eccentric and leave him alone. Walking along the cobblestone road, he observes everyone around him, wondering which one could be the mysterious student. In all his years of teaching, Gentlehaven is a new surname to him. Perhaps she’s muggle born, though the name’s not very muggle like if the other muggle born students have taught him.
‘Oh, if only I had something more to go by, then I-’
“Oh!” Both Fig and a slightly shorter figure cry when they suddenly run into each other. Fig gently cups their shoulders, preventing them from falling on their face.
“Are you alright?” He asks, looking over to check. The long brown cloak certainly stands out amongst the modern coats, but he finds the golden vines and hearts trim lovely. Oddly, the hood is completely pulled up, preventing him from seeing their face.
“Yes, sir, I’m fine.” They reply, curtsying. “I’m terribly sorry for running into you. …Good day.”
As the stranger continues on their way, walking almost in a bit of a daze, Fig pulls out a small charmed piece of paper Mathilda gave him to help find the student. To his surprise, the small black arrow points directly to the disappearing back of the cloaked stranger.
“Oh, wait, just a moment, Sio-” A family of four walks between them and when they’re gone, so is the stranger.
Fig sighs, tugging his scarf. This time, he’d better pay more attention.
By the time he catches up to Siofra, he finds her outside of town, resting underneath a tree at the edge of a forest. A small bird sits in her hand, and she gently pets its head, whistling a tune with it.
Determined to not scare the child away-for who knows why she’s out wandering the country all alone-Fig tries to calmly walk up to her. When he’s about ten feet away, the bird notices him and flies out of the girl’s hands, tweeting frantically. However, the girl simply stands when she sees him, brushing leaves off the front of her cloak.
“Hello again, sir. How do you do?” She says with another curtsy, her soft voice lilting like she could start singing any moment.
And once again, Fig is slightly taken aback by how polite she is. “Er, yes, hello. By any chance, are you Siofra Gentlehaven?”
Fig expected for her to politely confirm, or maybe deny it to confirm a suspicion that she may be in danger. Instead, the girl gasps and hurriedly asks,
“Do you know who I am?”
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As the gray haired man falters, Siofra frowns to herself as she thinks about it. Surely, even if she can’t recall a name, she should be able to vaguely recognize their face, right? But when she ran into him earlier, she felt no connection of any sort.
Perhaps he doesn’t know anything at all. Except…he knows her name, which makes the ordeal so confusing.
“I’m afraid, I don’t.” The man admits gently. “You see, I’m Professor Fig, from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Uh, here.”
He pulls out an envelope and hands it over to Siofra, who carefully opens it and reads, “We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as a fifth-year student.
Term begins on the first of September. Preliminary supplies have been collected for you and will accompany you on your journey to the castle.” Siofra pauses at the mention of a castle, the wisp of a memory fading as soon as it appeared.
“As you may be aware, the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery prohibits the use of magic of those under the age of seventeen outside of school. However, due to your unique circumstances, the Ministry has graciously agreed to allow Professor Eleazar Fig to help you hone your spell-casting before escorting you from London to the castle for the start-of-term feast and Sorting ceremony. Yours sincerely, Professor Weasley, Deputy Headmistress.”
“My apologies for not arriving earlier to provide more time to tutor you, I’m afraid I wasn’t informed until today.” Fig says. “If you don’t mind my asking, what did you mean when you asked-”
“If you knew me?” Siofra finishes, tucking the letter back into its envelope.
Fig nods. “Yes, although I understand if you don’t want to tell me.”
“It’s alright, Professor. I would tell you, if I could.” Siofra folds her hands together. “I’m afraid I can’t remember anything beyond the last two months.”
Even though she hasn’t told another soul about her predicament before, Siofra knew to expect Fig’s face to grow with concern.
“Really? Nothing at all?”
“Well, aside from my name…and that this-” Siofra reaches under her cloak and pulls out a golden pendant attached to a matching chain around her neck. “This is something important to me.”
Siofra stands still as Fig steps a bit closer to inspect the six symbols circling a pink heart on the circular pendant, tracing the violet five pointed star at the bottom. She’s sure he’s wondering why the symbols appear to be glowing if one looks closely enough.
“Fascinating.” He breathes as he lets go.
Siofra sighs. “Yes, but if only I knew what it all exactly means. I’ve been all over this country but haven’t come across anything that even barely jogs a memory.”
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Fig hums as Siofra fingers the symbols of the peculiar necklace. He and Mathilda had a few theories about her before he left, but amnesia was not one of them. Now that he thinks about it, the poor child does sound immensely tired for a 15 year old. By the sound of it, Siofra must’ve been walking nearly every waking moment if she’s covered the entire country in two months.
“Well then, if you don’t mind, I’d be happy to have you stay with me while I tutor you.” Fig offers. Not only would it make it easier to teach her by being under the same roof, a growing girl does need a space to flourish. And wandering the countryside isn’t the best, especially with the growing goblin and poacher problem.
“Are you sure I won’t be imposing?” Siofra asks, fiddling with her necklace.
“Not at all.” He quickly assures. “We can start lessons tomorrow, and tonight, we’ll get you some dinner and a bath.”
Siofra perks up at the mention of a bath, and quickly nods in agreement. “Wonderful, if you hold on, I can apparate us there. While you clean up, I’ll inform Professor Weasley of the arrangement.
“Apparate, sir?”
“Yes, to teleport to be precise. Now, hold tight.”
Fig chuckles as Siofra grasps his arm and stands close. With a flick of his wand, he transports them to his gate, prepared to catch the girl when she stumbles-unused to apparating. Once she has her footing, she gasps when she sees the cottage Fig calls home.
“Oh, it’s darling!” Fig grins sadly, reminded of how Miriam loved this place too.
Siofra turns to find Fig staring into the distance, something she’s found herself doing plenty these days. “...Sir? Are you alright?”
“Hm? Oh yes, I’m fine.” He jovially lies, “Now then, why don’t you hang up your cloak and I can show you where the bathroom is.”
Every instance of today has been a surprise, including now when Siofra takes a step back, pulling her hood further over her face.
“Oh, um…”
“Something the matter?” Fig asks. Briefly he wonders if her amnesia was caused by a physical injury, one she might not be comfortable showing.
“Well, you see, it’s just-” Siofra titters, fiddling with the edge of her hood. “Most people haven’t taken too kindly to me when they see my face. My eyes, specifically.”
Fig places a comforting hand on Siofra’s shoulder. “You’re safe here, Siofra. You don’t have to hide anymore.”
Siofra hesitates, and Fig can’t really blame her. He’s had a few rough encounters with Muggles regarding his clothes, but clothes can easily be changed. Eye color, not so much. But eventually, the girl pulls down her hood, shaking a few leaves out of wavy brown hair. With a sigh, she opens her eyes and bright rose pink nervously meets dark eyes full of warmth.
“Godric’s heart! How beautiful.” Fig starts, then shoots a comforting smile when he notices Siofra subtly tense at his shock.
“Thank you, sir.”
Fig waves a hand as Siofra pulls her cloak off over her head, letting her long brown hair pool at her pink flats. “Please, Professor Fig or just Fig. No need for that sir business.”
“Oh, yes, sir-er Professor.” Siofra murmurs while hanging her cloak.
With a shrug, Fig leads Siofra upstairs to the bathroom, stopping by his bedroom to find one of Miriam’s old nightgowns he hasn’t gotten to donate yet. As Siofra enjoys a hot bath, Fig starts a letter to Mathilda explaining the whole situation-and to have her send a second hand over as he can bring Siofra to Ollivander’s closer to the start-of-term since everything else for her has already been collected.
The creak in the stairs tells him that Siofra is done, and he turns around to see her on the last step, still drying the ends of her hair with a small hand towel. Taking a seat next to him at the table, she smiles at his owl, Odin.
“Hello there. What’s your name?”
Odin hoots, and to Fig’s surprise, Siofra smiles and nods, “Odin, what a wonderful name! It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
While scratching Odin’s chin, Siofra looks over to find Fig staring in confusion. “Professor?”
“Siofra…” Fig murmurs, setting down his quill. “Can you…understand him?”
“You…can’t?” Siofra asks.
Fig shakes his head, his curiosity rising by the minute. He’s heard of wizards and witches claiming to be able to understand animals or make a way to do so. But so far the only ones that are true are Parseltongues, descendants of Salazar Syltherin. But it seems that Siofra really can understand animals-and doesn’t know why.
“Fascinating. Maybe you can help me with the squirrels in my attic.” Fig grins, making Siofra giggle. “Now then, while I make dinner, Odin will go to Professor Weasley to retrieve a wand you can borrow until you get your own before classes.”
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“...A wand?” As Siofra gets that feeling she gets when a memory is just out of reach, pink sparkles surround her hand. Suddenly, the sparkles combine and transform into a long golden wand with a crown on top.
Siofra and Fig stare at the wand, until Fig finds his voice and breathes, “Godric’s Heart…I’ve never seen a wand like that.”
Siofra runs a hand over the wand. It fits perfectly in her palm, as if it was made for her. A sweet pink ball of light sits in the crown. Holding the wand, Siofra feels warmth, and a sense of peace. Also, she feels like she should know why she’s able to summon it from nowhere and what exactly it is-but of course she doesn’t.
Rolling it around, Siofra remembers the only other person she told about her memory loss-a teen boy who thought her plight was great, going on and on about how he wished he could forget all of the embarrassing things that happened in his life. However, he didn’t seem to grasp that she can’t recall anything, embarrassing or otherwise. Personally, she can tell anyone that memory loss isn’t fun at all.
“I’d ask how you managed to do that, but well…” Fig chuckles nervously, before coughing. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a look at it.”
Siofra shakes out of a wisp of a memory. “Hm? Oh, sure, here you are.”
Siofra gently hands the wand over, and Fig shivers at the cool metal. He’s seen a few unique wands in history books and in person, but never one made of metal. In fact, he’s not even sure there’s a core though he’s no expert on wands. Someone like Ollivander would be able to tell them more, but…he might ask questions that neither of them have the answer to right now.
“So, what are we going to do now, Professor?”
Honestly, Fig feels like a mermaid out of water. Lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t even notice Siofra talking to Odin again, who’s taken an immediate liking to the girl-mostly because she can understand what he’s saying. Maybe he can convince her to give him treats when Fig isn’t looking, as long as she’s staying. Odin really hopes that she’s staying, Fig could use a distraction.
“...Professor?” Siofra gently pokes Fig’s shoulder. “May I have my wand back please?”
Fig numbly hands it over, wishing Miriam was here. His wife was a Ravenclaw and she would not only be working to figure out this mystery-and maybe connecting it to her research in some way-but she would no doubt be asking the questions running through his brain right now.
When Fig eventually shakes out of his thoughts, Siofra is missing-and Odin. He’s concerned for about five seconds until he walks into the kitchen to find Siofra making something in a big pot, humming with Odin’s hooting. As she stirs, she sways which makes the ankle length skirt of her dress flare slightly.
She turns around to find Fig hovering at the door and smiles, “How are you, Professor?”
“I-I’m quite alright.” Fig steps closer to the stove, and takes a sniff of the delicious stew. “But you didn’t have to make dinner…where did you find all of this?”
“Odin showed me! And I wanted to make dinner, to show my appreciation for you letting me stay with you for a while. Besides, Odin said some of these things were going to go bad so it’d be better to use them soon.”
Fig winces. He hasn’t really eaten so well since Miriam’s death, and he probably never would’ve realized how starving he is if he didn’t bring Siofra home.
“Well then, let’s not let the meal go to waste then.” Fig grins, rubbing his hands together.
Fig grabs a couple of bowls and spoons while Siofra washes her hands and then carefully carries the pot to the table. After ladling a good amount into each bowl, Fig takes a bite of the meat and vegetables and melts. He was decent at cooking, and Miriam was slightly better, but for someone with no memory, Siofra cooked like a professional. Maybe her family had a restaurant or something where she learned such skills.
Both are silent as they enjoy the meal, and it’s not until the pot is nearly empty that Siofra remembers her question.
“Professor?” Fig hums in response, wiping his mouth. “Will my ability to summon a wand change anything? Should I still use a borrowed wand?”
“I’m…not sure. Perhaps it’d be best to use both wands, as we don’t know how well a metal wand would work with the spells you’ll learn. Also perhaps we should wait to tell someone else of this until we know more.”
Siofra tilts her head, and then nods at Fig’s logic. Since she can’t remember anything, she doesn’t know if she’s in any sort of danger from something or someone. Given Fig’s reaction, a wand she can summon would bring more attention than she needs.
“I understand. But shouldn’t we at least inform the staff? Like Professor Weasley?” Siofra points out because while she understands the need for secrecy, she also doesn’t like lying to most people. Especially if she doesn’t know if they’re trustworthy or not yet.
Fig shakes his head. “Professor Weasley is an astute and powerful witch, and she may be obliged to inform the Ministry. I think we should wait.”
Siofra scrunches up her nose, but doesn’t say anything. Mostly because she doesn’t have a better idea at the moment.
“Alright, but you do know that it’s not going to stay between the two of us for long.” She points out. If there’s anything she’s learned, it’s to trust her instincts.
And her instincts tell her that there’s something much larger for her and Fig over the horizon. But she’ll have to wait and see.