In the Empty Classroom
Quirrell carefully erased the lingering traces of his spellwork, flicking his wand with a practiced motion. The remnants of magic dissipated at once, leaving no visible evidence behind in the dimly lit classroom.
A few minutes later.
Once they were certain that Quirrell had walked a safe distance away, two figures slowly materialized. The same shimmering effect rippled through the air as they reappeared, threads of color weaving around them like enchanted mist.
“He’s a cautious one,” Aurora murmured, her gaze following the retreating figure of Quirrell down the corridor.
“But his master certainly isn’t,” Ian remarked, voice tinged with dry amusement. He hadn’t expected Voldemort to send Quirrell to deal with the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor so soon.
Even if the current professor wasn’t Grindelwald, just some inept wizard barely qualified to hold the post, it was no simple feat to dispose of someone quietly at Hogwarts. Even a student like Ian knew that the castle itself was far from a silent observer.
The enchanted portraits, the ever-watchful suits of armor, and even the very stones of Hogwarts carried memories of what transpired within its walls.
“You seem to know quite a bit about this man’s background. If I’m not mistaken, he only returned to Hogwarts today,” Aurora observed, turning to the Ravenclaw beside her.
“That’s the sharp intuition of a Niffler, my friend. Only someone with my level of perception is fit to be Hogwarts’ greatest detective.” Ian gave Aurora a self-satisfied pat on the shoulder.
“???”
Aurora simply stared at him, clearly baffled by his self-proclaimed title.
“You might want to remind your grandfather to watch his step,” Ian added, lowering his voice. “Wouldn’t want him to trip over something unexpected.”
He hoped, of course, that Grindelwald would dispose of Quirrell before the man could become a real threat. It was a small precaution, but one that might save them a great deal of trouble later.
Aurora, however, shook her head. “If my grandfather were so easily taken down, you wouldn’t be seeing him here at all. The only person in the world who might be able to defeat him is Dumbledore.”
A statement made with absolute confidence.
Ian hummed thoughtfully, considering her words.
“…Are you planning to use Veritaserum on him?” His mind drifted to the ingredients Aurora had pocketed earlier from Snape’s storeroom.
“Yes.”
Aurora nodded. “There’s a secret he refuses to tell me. A secret I need to know. It’s been weighing on me for too long, keeping me from any real peace.”
She didn’t elaborate, but Ian could guess, it was likely something to do with her parents, or something just as personal. He decided against pressing her for details.
“If you already know how difficult he is to deceive, how do you plan on making him drink Veritaserum without realizing it?” Ian asked. He found it hard to believe that someone like Grindelwald wouldn’t notice a tampered potion.
This question gave Aurora pause. It was clear she hadn’t thought that far ahead. She struck Ian as the kind of person who tackled problems one step at a time, rather than planning meticulously in advance.
For a young witch with prophetic abilities, this was likely a side effect of her gift. After all, she had the luxury of relying on her foresight to guide her when necessary. This habit, however, made her prone to overlooking the need for careful preparation.
That approach might work with ordinary people, but against someone whose own foresight vastly exceeded hers… Aurora had no immediate answer.
“Do You Have Any Suggestions?” Seeking help from her only friend, Aurora hesitated for a moment before confessing her past attempts. “I always thought Dumbledore was my grandfather’s greatest weakness…”
In pursuit of that theory, she had even dabbled in human Transfiguration, attempting to deceive Grindelwald by taking on Dumbledore’s appearance. However, her skills had been lacking, and she had been caught midway through the transformation.
Not that it had mattered.
Grindelwald had seen through her the moment she started, he had simply let her continue, amused by the spectacle. Once she realized he was only toying with her, she abandoned the idea entirely and turned to a more straightforward method: Veritaserum.
“How old are you again? And you’re already experimenting with human Transfiguration?” Ian was incredulous at Aurora’s sheer audacity. It wasn’t just reckless, it was borderline absurd. He had a magical advantage of his own, but the German girl standing before him certainly didn’t.
A Hogwarts Metamorphmagus in the making?
That would’ve been something.
“I could teach you, you know? Though, I’m not particularly skilled at it myself…” Aurora assumed Ian’s amazement was curiosity, maybe even interest in learning the spell.
But Ian immediately shook his head, his response as rapid as a Fanged Frisbee gone rogue.
“At least let me hit six feet first. I understand how this magic works, learning it too early can mess with your growth. I think you’d be better off not delving into it too soon, either.”
Faced with Ian’s reasoning, Aurora didn’t argue.
“I’ve already stopped practicing,” she admitted.
There was a faint trace of regret in her voice, though it wasn’t for the magic itself. It was for the wasted effort, the months of study that had ultimately failed to bring her the answers she had sought.
Ian fell silent, mulling over the problem. Then, an idea struck him.
“The safest option is to have Dumbledore ask for you,” he suggested. “Didn’t you say you’re officially recognized as his apprentice?”
“From what I know of Dumbledore, as long as what you’re asking isn’t something dangerous, convincing him to help shouldn’t be too difficult.”
Then, lowering his voice, Ian added, “Though I might need to find you the right outfit.” He was already considering asking the house-elves to recreate the dress Ariana Dumbledore had worn the day she passed away.
Aurora’s brows furrowed. “Would that really work?”
“If it does, I think Dumbledore could help you get our professor to drink the Veritaserum,” Ian mused, blinking at her. But his suggestion didn’t seem to inspire much confidence.
“Well, unless you’ve got a better plan,” he continued, “your grandfather isn’t exactly an easy target. We can’t just… I don’t know, spike the Hogwarts plumbing with Veritaserum or something.”
He was, of course, only joking. He hadn’t expected the idea to be taken seriously.
But Aurora suddenly halted, her face lighting up in realization.
“That’s a brilliant idea!”
Ian stopped short, alarmed.
She leaned in, already calculating something in her head.
“Wait,” Ian said slowly, watching her with growing horror. “You’re not actually thinking about doing that, are you?”
Aurora was completely unfazed. She was already estimating how much Veritaserum would be needed to flood the castle’s water supply.
“??????”
Ian was utterly dumbfounded.
“You can’t seriously be considering this! Snape’s storeroom doesn’t even have that much!” He instinctively clutched his pockets, wary that she might decide to “borrow” the potion ingredients he’d procured through his own means.
Aurora, however, had already reached her conclusion.
“True… It wouldn’t be enough.”
She sighed, sounding genuinely disappointed.
“I Think We Can Change Our Approach.”
Ian leaned against the stone banister, mulling over the situation. “Even if you don’t believe Dumbledore will help you, that doesn’t mean you can’t take matters into your own hands. You just need to fully embrace the confidence that comes with being a Seer.”
Aurora raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
“Create a prophecy, one that can be foreseen, one that seems inevitable. But hide your true intent beneath it. If Grindelwald thinks he’s already predicted your moves, he won’t see the real trick coming. I’d say that gives you a fair chance of success.”
Ian swore he was only doing this to prevent a potential disaster for the other students at Hogwarts.
It was almost ironic, Grindelwald had once shared insights about the nature of prophecies with Ian, and now Ian was using that very knowledge to help Aurora deceive him.
“Misleading my grandfather with a prophecy?” Aurora’s interest was piqued.
As they walked, Ian animatedly laid out various scenarios, offering potential strategies. Aurora listened closely, occasionally nodding and adding her own ideas.
By the time they reached their destination, Aurora had gained a new perspective on her plan, and Ian had developed a deeper understanding of a Seer’s potential vulnerabilities.
Everyone, it seemed, had something to be pleased about.
“We’ve arrived,” Aurora announced.
Ian blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. He looked around in mild confusion, somehow, he had been led all the way to the entrance of the Ravenclaw common room, which sat atop one of Hogwarts’ many towers. He had been so caught up in the discussion that he hadn’t questioned why they were heading upstairs.
“Wait… you were walking me back to my dorm?” He asked, slightly bewildered.
Aurora merely smiled. “Thank you for your advice.”
Then, to his surprise, she gave him a quick hug before turning on her heel and leaving.
Ian stood there, feeling strangely off-balance.
Wasn’t it usually the other way around? Weren’t boys the ones who walked girls back to their dorms?
Before he could make sense of it, a smooth, knowing voice echoed from the door.
“So… you were out on a date, then?”
Ian froze.
His gaze snapped to the bronze eagle knocker on the common room door, his blood running cold.
Oh no.
Sure enough, the enchanted door continued, “Let’s see… prove the Goldbach Conjecture.”
Ian groaned. He knew that tone all too well.
The door wasn’t letting him in anytime soon.
Realizing that debating mathematics with a sentient knocker was an utterly lost cause, Ian made a snap decision, he turned on his heel and bolted, sprinting towards the Room of Requirement. He knew better than to overestimate his mathematical abilities.
Hesitate for even a second, and he’d be stuck outside until sunrise.
…
Meanwhile, on the other side of the castle, Aurora walked down a quiet, dimly lit corridor, stopping before the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor’s office. The glow of candlelight flickered from within.
She raised her hand to knock, but the door swung open before she could touch it.
“Grandfather,” She said, hesitating briefly. “Did you know I was coming?”
Without waiting for an answer, she stepped inside.
Gilderoy Grindelwald sat behind his desk, quill scratching against parchment as he wrote furiously. He didn’t look up.
“I think you should seriously consider Ian’s suggestion,” He said smoothly. “It has a far higher chance of success than any of your own… whimsical ideas.”
Aurora’s eyes narrowed.
“You were spying on us?”
Grindelwald chuckled lightly, his Lockhart-like features stretched into a smirk.
“Spying? That would imply I’m breaking the rules. No, no, my dear, I simply… observe.”
Aurora didn’t look convinced.
Grindelwald gestured idly to a small, enchanted mirror sitting beside him on the desk. In its polished surface, the flickering image of Quirinus Quirrell could be seen moving about somewhere within the castle.
“Dumbledore asked me to keep an eye on that little mouse,” Grindelwald continued, his expression one of mild amusement. “And, in doing so, I happened to stumble upon the little secret you uncovered about him.”
His quill never stopped moving, even as he spoke. His other hand idly tapped the mirror’s surface, shifting the view to another part of the castle.
“This place truly is remarkable,” He murmured, almost to himself.
Aurora ignored his musings and focused on the real issue.
“Grandfather… you already know he’s planning to make a move against you, don’t you?”
She instinctively took a seat across from him, her eyes flickering back to the mirror.
Much like Ian, Aurora loved to learn. After all, even the most gifted witches and wizards needed knowledge to make the most of their talents.
Grindelwald let out a deep, almost theatrical sigh. “Yes, well, that is entirely Dumbledore’s fault, isn’t it? He’s robbed me of a rather interesting surprise.” His tone was regretful, though it was hard to tell how much of it was genuine.
Aurora studied him carefully. “What do you plan to do?”
Grindelwald finally set down his quill, lacing his fingers together as he regarded her.
“That,” he said, lips curving into a slow smile, “is a question for our dear headmaster to answer. I believe he intends to use this little mouse to lure his favorite pupil back to Hogwarts.”
Aurora’s eyes widened slightly.
Now that was an interesting piece of news.
Gilderoy Grindelwald finally set down his quill. “You didn’t come here just to ask about the fate of our dear Muggle Studies professor, did you?”
The parchment before him remained untouched at the point where two figures had crossed paths. It wasn’t that he had grown tired of writing, rather, there were certain stories he would have preferred not to see unfold.
Aurora, seated across from him, hesitated before speaking. “I almost hit Ian with a curse today.” Her small face was troubled, brows knitted in regret. “He acted as though it didn’t matter, but… it unsettled me.”
Grindelwald watched her carefully. “Not being able to foresee that moment has left you uneasy, hasn’t it?”
The young witch hesitated before giving a small nod.
“I remember you telling me that as long as an event affects our lives, I should always be able to see it coming.” Her voice carried a rare flicker of doubt in her own abilities.
A quiet chuckle escaped Grindelwald’s lips. “You underestimate both your gift and the power your friend already wields.”
He leaned back slightly, his sharp eyes glinting with amusement. “I have always told you, your prophetic abilities surpass mine. Your talent does not falter or fail; it merely refuses to reveal that which cannot happen to you.”
Aurora blinked, caught entirely off guard. “…Ah?”
She hadn’t expected that answer.
Before she could fully absorb the implications, Grindelwald reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a book.
“I cannot teach you how to master your potential, but I do know why you came to see me tonight.” He tapped the book against his palm before handing it to her. “You’re looking for a way to prevent such things from happening again.”
There was something almost bemused in his expression as he added, “It seems that particular trait runs in our family.”
Aurora accepted the book, her curiosity piqued. She lowered her gaze,
The Blood Pact
The book’s cover shimmered under the dim candlelight, the title spelled out in writhing, blood-red letters.
Back in the Room of Requirement, Ian wasted no time in setting up his cauldron.
Quirrell was making a swift descent toward self-destruction, but Ian had already gathered a considerable collection of ingredients. Even if he didn’t go through with brewing the Infinite Fire Potion, there were plenty of other options worth pursuing.
“Polyjuice Potion is always useful,” he mused, recalling his earlier conversation with Aurora about human transfiguration.
It was never a bad idea to be prepared.
Any skilled potioneer knew that adaptability was the key to survival, true masters carried dozens of different potions at all times.
“I’m no master… but fifty bottles should do the trick.”
With practiced efficiency, Ian set up multiple cauldrons at once, selecting a handful of brews that required longer refinement periods to prepare alongside the Polyjuice Potion.
Before long, the Room of Requirement was thick with the mingling scents of rare herbs and simmering elixirs. Thanks to Ian’s personally crafted air filter, however, the smell that drifted beyond the room was that of the Draught of Living Death.
Even if Snape happened to catch a whiff, he’d likely assume Ian was merely brewing a batch of sleeping potions.
His dear uncle might have been a potions master, but he certainly wasn’t as inventive as Ian, nor would he ever suspect that his nephew had developed a device specifically to mislead him.
“Clever me!”
Smirking to himself, Ian pulled out another of his personal projects. The early stages of potion-making often involved long waits between steps, and he had no intention of wasting that time.
With a flick of his wand, he unrolled a battered old manuscript,
The Book of Parselmouths
“gū lūgū lūgū lū~”
“sīīīsīī~”
Hissing syllables filled the air as Ian practiced the serpentine language, the eerie echoes blending with the bubbling of various cauldrons.
The entire scene had taken on an almost surreal quality, dark potions simmering ominously, a skeletal tome filled with cryptic Parseltongue scripts, and, in the corner, a cleaning Dementor dutifully scrubbing the stone floor.
If anyone were to stumble upon this sight, they would sooner believe they had entered the lair of a dark wizard than a Hogwarts student’s private study session.
But Ian merely grinned, entirely at home in the madness.
Time passed slowly.
After completing the intricate early stages of his potions, Ian decided to relocate for some well-earned rest. The mingling fumes of bubbling brews, even with his air filter, were still less than pleasant. And really, what was life without a bit of comfort and ritual?
The Next Morning
While most of Hogwarts still lay deep in slumber, Ian was already up, well-rested from a night spent atop a sprawling twenty-meter mattress in the Room of Requirement, one so unnecessarily grand that he had to walk fifty meters down a rich red carpet just to reach the door.
Stepping out into the corridor, ready to seize the day, he turned a corner, and promptly walked into something as solid as a mountain.
“Thud!”
Ian was sent sprawling onto the floor.
“Hagrid?”
Looking up, he found himself staring at the towering form of Rubeus Hagrid, Hogwarts’ half-giant groundskeeper. The man was awkwardly balancing an enormous mirror on his shoulder, peering down at Ian with a puzzled expression.
Ian, having squeezed a bit of mouthwash into his mouth just before leaving, was currently blowing small, translucent bubbles, an odd sight, and apparently, enough to startle Hagrid.
“Merlin’s beard! Is there anyone about? This little wizard’s foamin’ at the mouth!” Hagrid bellowed in alarm, eyes darting around for help. Unfortunately for him, the eighth floor was utterly deserted at this hour.
Ian hurriedly waved a hand. “It’s fine, Hagrid! Just brushing my teeth.”
To his mild embarrassment, the words came out punctuated by yet more floating bubbles, shimmering like morning dew in the dim corridor. He had, perhaps, used a touch too much mouthwash.
Hagrid blinked. Then, after a beat of silence, he let out a booming laugh. “Blimey, nearly gave me a fright, you did!”
Still, despite Ian having taken the brunt of the collision, it was Hagrid who looked guilty. Not that he had budged an inch, of course, being half-giant meant even a full-speed sprint from Ian would feel like little more than a nudge.
But he seemed genuinely concerned, shifting slightly as if he wanted to help Ian up, though the massive mirror on his shoulder prevented him from bending properly.
“It’s fine, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Ian assured him, dusting off his robes.
That was when his eyes finally landed on the mirror Hagrid was carrying. The ornate carvings, the intricate patterns, there was something eerily familiar about it.
Ian’s breath caught.
“The Mirror of Erised!”
He couldn’t stop the words from escaping, his excitement barely contained. He had been expecting to encounter it at Hogwarts, but not until next year!
Hagrid looked taken aback. “You know this mirror?”
Ian’s gaze was locked onto the ancient artifact, his mind racing.
“Of course! I’ve read about it in books.” And if he wasn’t mistaken, this was precisely the object Professor Morgan had asked him to track down.
“Well, aren’t you a clever one,” Hagrid chuckled, ruffling Ian’s hair with a hand the size of a dinner plate. “Dumbledore had me fetch it for ‘im, wants it in his office. I reckon he needs a proper look at himself; Headmaster’s office has never had a good full-length mirror.”
Ian blinked. “…What?”
That didn’t make sense. Surely, even if Hagrid didn’t know the Mirror of Erised’s true nature, he would at least understand its basic function?
“You… haven’t looked into it?” Ian asked cautiously.
“Course not! Professor Dumbledore told me not to, and when Dumbledore tells ya somethin’, best listen. If he says don’t look, then I reckon there’s a reason.” Hagrid’s expression was one of absolute trust.
Ian hesitated, then asked, “Can I look at it?”
He knew that if used correctly, the mirror could do more than just show desire, it could speak. And even if it didn’t, it would still reveal his greatest longing.
And who wouldn’t be curious about that?
Would he see himself standing as one of the greatest wizards of the age? Or would the mirror show him something entirely unexpected?
Hagrid, however, shifted uncomfortably. “Ah… best ask Dumbledore ’bout that. Wouldn’t feel right lettin’ you without permission.”
Ian sighed, but he wasn’t truly disappointed. He had already been planning to seek out Dumbledore anyway, Professor Morgan had trusted him to locate and retrieve this mirror, and he fully intended to do just that.
“Well, I won’t keep you, Hagrid,” he said, stepping aside.
“Atta boy,” Hagrid beamed. “Gotta get this to the headmaster first, then off to the Forbidden Forest, Dumbledore wants me to find some rare bits n’ bobs for ‘im.”
As he turned to leave, he paused and threw a glance over his shoulder. “Oh! And stop by me hut when you get the chance, I’ll see if I can find some o’ them potion bits you’re always needin’.”
Ian smiled at that. Hagrid had clearly taken note of his ever-growing collection of potion ingredients.
“Will do!”
Hagrid gave him a final friendly pat on the head before lumbering away, mirror and all.
Ian, however, remained standing in place, eyes narrowing slightly as he watched the half-giant’s retreating figure.
What exactly is Dumbledore planning…?
His gaze flickered toward the small leather pouch fastened to Hagrid’s belt. It wasn’t large, but it seemed heavy.
Then,
“Clink.”
A set of keys inside the pouch knocked together, the crisp sound ringing faintly through the corridor.
(End of Chapter)